Richard's Animorphs Forum
Animorphs Section => Animorphs Role Playing => Topic started by: Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin) on November 09, 2012, 08:40:30 PM
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The Galactic War: Rogue Element
Chapter 1: The Price of Greatness
It is the height of the Andalite-Yeerk war and combat engulfs the galaxy. Ship cores nova and soldiers die on both sides. The Andalites have launched a successful attack against the courageous Yeerk Rebellion, all but obliterating them from existence. Meanwhile, the Empire has launched its own successful attack on the Andalite Alpha-Line, forcing the Andalites to withdraw deeper into their own space.
In one small corner deep within the secure confines of Andalite space, a dark secret hides…a small moon called Primus, orbiting the second planet of the Corvus system. It seems innocuous, almost peaceful. The Andalites’ original effort to terraform a planet has at once succeeded and failed on Primus. The small moon now has a partially-breathable atmosphere where there was none before. Large colonies of oxogenic, extremophile bacteria survive by feeding upon the chemical energy within the soil of Primus, but re-breathers are necessary for extended exposure. The small planet might be able to support plant-life in a hundred years, but for now it’s little more than rock, iron-rich dirt, and water condensed from the atmosphere of the giant, blue-green gas planet that is Corvus II.
To one who knows little about the moon, it might pass as little more than a curiosity, but concealed under a camouflage field sits a small complex. A high-strength polymer dome protects a lush, green oasis of verdant life. Half of that expanse is covered by a lush yard of grass and well-groomed trees, the other half is covered by an innocuous looking building. Its purpose isn’t obvious, though it looks like little more than an office building.
Inside reside nearly one-hundred Andalites…scientists, officers, security staff, engineers, and researchers. Their goal, to develop new technologies and garner new knowledge through experimentation on Yeerk weapons, technology, and the Yeerks themselves. The facility is large enough to potentially house upwards of two-hundred live Yeerks, as well as preserved Yeerk corpses. The facility can also hold up to fifty prior hosts, though only on a temporary basis.
On level zero, the recently-arrived hosts to the supposed “rebels” are kept in 2m x 4m cells where peaceful simulated sights and sounds of plainsland and forest on earth loop through the holo-emitters on the walls and ceiling. They had all been questioned, nicely for the most part, and more than once, but never were they allowed to communicate with each other. All seemed voluntary, (one didn’t even have a controller), but all were committed to the rebel lie. Perhaps brain-washing or memory-modification…whatever the reason, nearly every Andalite at the facility wrinkled his breathing slits at the thought of someone giving up all freedom in life. At least the liaison the Andalites had brought in had soothed the poor creatures somewhat.
On the so-called non-existent level, level negative one, the Yeerks are kept in much less…pleasant…accommodations. Kept in very small 2 decimeter x 2 decimeter pool units, just enough liquid is cycled through the units to keep the Yeerks inside from desiccating. They’re only communication, two small nodes that could be interfaced with palps connected to a sole internal memory unit, in case the Yeerk within decides to become talkative. There is no connection between the cell units and the main computer, nor is there any connection between the cells. The units are stacked in an arrangement that reminds one of a front-loading filing cabinet, and each cell-unit is cataloged with the Yeerk inside. The entire block is bathed in a sickly, weak glow…just enough Kandrona to keep the Yeerks within on the brink of starvation.
All of the so-called rebels have been interrogated of course, and not nearly so nicely as their hosts. The individual cell-units, when connected to the “interrogation device,” are capable of administering many things to the Yeerk inside…from a weak bath of caustic chemicals to low-voltage electrical shock. The cell can even vary the temperatures inside the cell to baking hot or frigid cold. Anything really that could cause pain or discomfort without death. It is…not a nice place to be a Yeerk. In a slightly confusing turn of events, most of the Yeerks had slid out voluntarily instead of being…removed from their hosts. One could almost think they wished to spare their hosts the discomfort of the process, but then the Yeerks might’ve merely been wishing to avoid the pain themselves.
Meanwhile, a group of vigilantes and “traitors,” Andalites all, hurtle their way through the blank whiteness of Z-space aboard the Apix Mirage. Each thinks his or her own thoughts about the drastic turn their lives have taken, and about the upcoming combat against their own kind as they regroup for one final briefing…the beginning of the unsung war...the beginning of the Rogue Element.
“There comes a time in everyone’s life when greatness is demanded. The great are merely those willing to rise to the occasion, no matter the cost.”
~Prince Raigar-Markovan-Erethul
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Claxter had volunteered to join Ossanlin on the mission to save the rebels, and bring justice to the wrong committed against them. He was given the opportunity to refuse, but felt he owed Ossanlin, and was better off with him. Also going to help the rebels may mean he got to see and help Efaen. If she was alive, that is. If she had died, he'd personally put Corliss and Terenia on the business end of a shredder for convincing her to go for selfish reasons. He knew they never really wanted her to go, except as Terenia's host.
It was no time to be angry, though. He was ready for debriefing before their rescue mission. It would be strange, breaking into an Andalite facility to rescue Yeerks. He'd have to try not to kill anyone. Hopefully he wouldn't falter when Ossanlin needed him. He had been in real battles before and proven victorious, and would try his best here. He just needed to focus on his orders, and not worry about nervousness, or what he might find in the facility.
The new Hork-Bajir morph had been an interesting experience. The mind itsself was peaceful, but had a lot of power. He knew this, of course, but hadn't felt it personally. The tail was good, but he needed to remember not to rely on it too much. He was to be a controller, not a morphed Andalite.
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Enorryma-Almoress-Ingrell was full of restless energy prior to the mission; her fingers kept drifting toward the Shredder on her belt, and her stalk-eyes must have swept the space behind her nine times in the last five minutes, despite the fact that the only thing behind her was the featureless wall of the hull. More than once, somebody had moved past her through the doorway, bumping against her in the crammed space, and she'd snapped <Pay attention, you oaf!>, but with none of her usual enthusiastic disdain: the center of her attention was all on Ossanlin, waiting for him to say the word which would send the entire crew spiraling into action.
The prospect of the mayhem thrilled her, but she would never admit to it if asked. Norry genuinely could not imagine any activity more vital and life-affirming than rushing head-first into a fray of Shredder-fire with allies and her Prince at her flanks... except possibly doing the same thing from the ****pit of a fighter, in tight formations designed to trick, trap, and eliminate even the cleverest of Yeerk enemy pilots.
Morphing, however, was not quite so high on Norry's list of ideal ways to spend a mission.
Bipedal herbivore, equipped to climb, to leap, and to cut; no strong instincts to speak of. Binocular vision with a wide periphery of monocular vision. Excellent hearing, poor night vision, moderate olfactory responses, high pain tolerance, opposable thumbs, strong upper and lower body... Norry recited a mental litany of the features of the Hork-Bajir morph. None of it was exactly news to her, but if she was going to give up her native body in favour of something less natural, then she wanted to be sure she understood the ins and outs of the shape she would be taking.
No, who wa she kidding? She hated morphing, hasn't had to do it in years, and now she had to talk herself into it, remind herself that in many ways, this morph was vastly more suitable to the mission than her own body, and it had traits which made it operatively similar enough to an Andalite body that she would not lose herself in the process.
I should have practiced it off-duty. Of course this was obvious now, but when she was off-duty, the idea of giving up meditative time in favour of shedding her already powerful, perfectly adequate body for this scaled, menacing, unintelligent, pathetically docile shape was laughably wasteful.
No, never go into a mission without being mentally prepared for it. Her expression hardened as she pushed back an old and painful memory, the loss of the first of several wingmen to their own unpreparedness, ****y attitudes, and lack of focus. She followed Ossanlin for many reasons, but perhaps the most meaningful of these was that he was always ready for the mission before he led the crew into it. His confidence was not reckless arrogance. His focus was absolute. It did not matter that he was younger than Enorryma; his mental preparedness and attention to detail made him worth ten wingmen of greater age and lesser focus. That kind of Prince deserved total commitment from his TO, and that's what he got from Norry.
It just happened that at this particular moment, Norry's total commitment took the form of incessant silent hovering three paces away, all eyes on him, sweeping the room and returning to him repeatedly. She waited with the coiled restless tension and sharp temper of a stim-addicted fighter pilot who was forced to retire before she could burn out her brain or her hearts in the ****pit or on the wrong end of a Dracon Cannon. Nobody else on the bridge needed to be tense- Norry took care of that in spades, on behalf of anybody else who couldn't muster spare energy for anticipation of the coming mission.
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Esarvit paced the common area of the Mirage, grateful for artificial gravity. Oh, it had been all well and good to toss and turn in the limitless expanse of space, back when his body was up (and down. and sideways.) for the challenge, but those days were long gone. Now, he felt, if he had a mouth, he'd be liable to regurgitate his food should anything go wrong with the orientation boosters.
Mouths were unattractive entities, if he said so himself. Particularly the insatiable Taxxon holes, dead stars in miniature, sucking the worlds into themselves. But the thought of being a Hork-Bajir felt little more appealing.
He had acquired the morph long before, back when several fellow arisths and himself had been unexpectedly pulled into combat near the Ongachic system. Another, much faster, tail-fighter had knocked out the young female troop while he was still trying to parry her blades. And, under the glare of their Prince, they'd both acquired her DNA just in case it came in handy for further espionage.
They'd let her go, still unconscious. The Electorate, Esarvit was convinced, did not need unnecessary blood on its tails.
He slowly made his way around the outside wall of the room, hoping the morph was still young and hale. He was going to have a hard enough time galumphing around on two legs, as it was...
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Claxter entered the room where Enorryma and Ossanlin were. He was trying to go over how to fight as a Hork-Bajir. The body had no fighting instincts, but he was trying to remember how he fought the warrior in the field of the asteroid. He had been in some ways similar to a Hork-Bajir, but much more powerful.
<Excuse me, TO Enorryma? Would you mind sparring with me once before we arrive? I would like to make sure I have this morph's capabilities down.> Enorryma looked bored, standing there staring at Ossanlin. Perhaps she'd be willing to help him in a more spacious room.
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Ossanlin sighs as he finishes his Hork-Bajir morph. He'd probably used his much more recently than the others, but it was still unsettling. The loss of his stalk-eyes was the most-disturbing portion of almost any morph. Ossanlin sorts through his thoughts as he glances around the Mirage's common room with the hork-bajir's slightly lesser sense of sight. He steps up to the holo-emitter table and calls up an enlarged display. Claxter was already in morph, but none of the others besides himself seem to have proceeded. <<Not before the final briefing, Claxter.>> Though he says nothing publicly, allowing Enorryma to respond as she would. After all, Claxter had not specified that the sparring happen now, and there was still some time before the Mirage would land at the Corvus facility.
He glances back at Norry, his shadow now that they'd left the Electorate more than ever. <<You may not agree with me, Norry, but I still believe it wise to run through this scenario once while in morph.>> He uses the more-familiar shortened version of her name almost entirely now, after all, they share quite a bit.
He moves his eyes to Esarvit, restlessly pacing the room. <Esarvit, could you morph and come to the table please?> Two other Warriors, Ehvrin and Aurrelia were already standing near the table. Aurrelia had already begun her own graceful morphing process, but Ossanlin has to nod at Ehvrin before he begins his morph. He glances up at the flight-deck. <Leskel, Z-Space can watch itself for a few minutes, come down here.> The middle-aged helmsman responds with a sigh as he turns and starts trotting down the small ramp. He doesn't morph, but then he won't be needing to. Not a hork-bajir anyway.
He waits patiently for all of his Warriors to gather at the display before speaking again as he brings up the appropriate files for the Corvus facility.
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<<Of course, Sir.>> Enorryma's mental voice was terse when she addressed Ossanlin, but she was not about to create a problem for him so close to mission time. While it was completely acceptable for him to use a familiar form of her name, it did not do for Norry to treat Ossanlin as anything less than a commanding officer: he was younger than her, but Norry was not going to put a cramp in morale and decorum by calling attention to that point, instead emphasizing his rank first and foremost. The least she could do for him right now was get in morph, as requested, but she still had to psyche herself up to doing it.
She began to morph the Hork-Bajir, a slow and graceless process which her reluctance only further aggravated. Her one consolation at this point was that at least this body was strong and had steady hands sized well for her sidearm and for an ASAR.
As she morphed, she addressed Claxter, more than a little bit grateful to know that somebody else was unready enough with the morph to want a quick pre-mission mock fight. <I believe I, too, would benefit from a brief sparring match to verify my combat aptitude in morph. Are you willing to wait until we are briefed? It would be a waste of fighting adrenaline and endorphins to spar at this point, but shortly before the mission itself it will help our energy and focus in the mission itself.>
Norry waited near Ossanlin at the display, for the briefing.
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<Thank you Ma'am. I believe the Prince will be ready for debriefing momentarily. Afterwards I would appreciate some test sparring.> Claxter barely noticed that Norry was female, with the way she held herself, though addressing her as female did bring it to the back of his mind. He wondered if Efaen would be like her later in life. They were both serious, and unafraid of battle. That is, if Efaen lived that long.
He had considered sparring with her when she was in her normal form, but she also needed practice in her morph. He supposed it would be fine, though. Hopefully they wouldn't embarrass themselves and each other with poor attempts at fighting.
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<Yes, sir,> says Esarvit, and the changes begin.
His tail blade is first to go, but then, it wasn't much of a blade to begin with. In his younger days he had wondered if he could sharpen it when transitioning between morphs, but there seems to be more than DNA preserved in the morphing process--age, for one.
Don't get distracted, he tells himself, the time for science is later.
His stalk-eyes shrink down and powerful blades begin growing out of his newly-green limbs. So much for worrying about the tail; these are powerful natural weapons of their own, if only he had the instinct to use them.
He feels for the Hork-Bajir mind underneath--a primitive species, to be sure, but there's something alive in the brain. Something simple. Hork-Bajir are focused on one moment at time; there is no pointless nostalgia for the inaccessible past, but then again, not much room for hope.
Esarvit walks to the front of the table, meeting Ossanlin there.
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Ossanlin nods, his demeanor changing to one of business, and a business of command at that.
<Good. Now, once again we will be assaulting during the moon's umbral night. Solar reflex is unpredictable during this time, and the darkness is deepest.> He glances at Esarvit. <You'll be using reverse sensor output to project interference over the Maintenance Entrance here.> Ossanlin commands the maintenance landing pads and entrance to expand.
<There will be one stationary guard and one mobile patrolling guard. We'll land with the active camouflage engaged while the patrolling guard is on his return trip. The patrol route takes five standard minutes to complete. After landing, Enorryma will exit and take the shot on the stationary guard using one of the modified ASARs.> He nods to Norry before moving his eyes to Leskel. <After the guard is down and stunned, we will all exit the Mirage. Leskel will immediately acquire and morph the guard, Aurrelia will affix the suppressant collar to him. Ennoryma and Claxter will keep watch while Ehvrin, Esarvit, and I open the maintenance-level hatch here.> The dot marking the maintenance hatch begins to blink. <Leskel will take up the stationary guard position and keep an eye on our exit route. These maintenance hatches are vertical, only morphs can fit through them...they're meant only for emergencies.>
<The rest of us will climb down three levels to reach the maintenance tunnels. The tunnels should be deserted, security doesn't patrol them. The only ones who enter the maintenance levels are engineers, and then only for upkeep. Enorryma and I will take up position at this maintenance hatch leading down into the singularity chamber while Claxter and Ehvrin move here to attach the first floor-breacher underneath the Yeerk cell-block. Esarvit and Aurellia will move to the southern maintenance hatch here, and climb up into the maintenance room on level negative one where they will attach the second floor-breacher here underneath the central computer chamber on level zero.>
Ossanlin pauses to regard each of his Warriors in turn, waiting to see if each clearly understood their roles up to that point.
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<Understood, sir.> Claxter said. Ossanlin mentioned they would reach the Yeerk Cell block first. It seemed to him like it would be better to rescue the hosts first, since they could help with the second part of the rescue attempt, though maybe they were rescuing the Yeerks first just because the better path to take took them closer to the Yeerks first. He didn't bother asking why, since he was sure ossanlin was on top of everything that could and needed to be done.
His job was just to memorize the plan, and do his best to carry it out.
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Norry inclined her head toward Ossanlin and did the nearest approximation in this morph of an at-ready posture. Privately she wondered if it was completely necessary to rescue the Yeerks... if they couldn't simply free the hosts and be done with it... but she was not about to voice this thought to anybody else. No doubt there was a perfectly military-rational reason for bringing the Yeerks along, even if she didn't know what it was just yet. She trusted Ossanlin.
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<Yes, sir,> says Esravit, his eyes focusing on his commander's own. He tries to swivel his stalk eyes to catch a glimpse of Aurrelia, but of course, there are no stalk eyes in sight. Oh well.
Five standard minutes. Who was it that set up this standard? Or are planetary orbits, even across solar system, so correctly aligned as to create a-- He stops himself again.
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The sun is shining in Christopher O'Hearn's cell.
If he weren't so angry, it would almost be funny. He hadn't seen the sun, not even a holographic impression of the sun, in a long, long time. To see it now, after so much pain, after so much loss and chaos, was the ultimate insult.
He had reminded himself of the falseness of the images often the past few days, usually by throwing a fist at the wall, reassured by the sharp thud of his knuckles against what appeared to be thin air.
Now, though, Chris was not punching. He was not yelling or swearing or threatening, all of which he had done frequently, much to his Andalite guards' dismay. The liaison they sent in to calm him was a joke -- another insult added to injury, and she never returned after her first failed attempt to communicate with him.
No, now he was sitting, back against one wall, knees pulled up to his chest, head buried in his hands. His fingers were curled against his scalp, buried deep in his thick, strawberry blonde hair. I need a haircut. The seemingly random and innocuous thought sends a stab of pain through him, and he feels emotion welling up in his throat again.
Tess... Where was she? His partner, the mother of his unborn children. Every time he tries to imagine her circumstances he has to push the thought away. There were too many what ifs. What if the chaos had pushed her into labor? What if she was injured? What if she hadn't made it at all?
"Don't you ****ing dare," Chris whispers to himself. He doesn't want to even begin thinking about that. The last he had seen of Tess, Keslin had been telling her to go, run, get to safety while he found Reven and helped with the evacuation. He never found Reven. He never saw Tess again.
He swallows, hugging his knees closer to his chest. If Keslin were here, he'd know what to do. That thought had been circulating his thoughts more and more lately. Keslin had always been the leader, the negotiator, the business-person. But his Yeerk friend had been forced to leave him, and before Chris could protest Keslin had been shuttled away to God-****ing-knows-where. The thought of what the Andalites might do to him sends a shiver up Chris' spine.
The worst part of it, by far, is that the Andalites actually thought they were saving him. Imbeciles, Chris thinks, feeling another bout of rage coming on.
With nowhere to direct his anger he glares at the ground, letting it simmer slowly. Irritable, impatient, and desperate for news he waits, having no other options.
Keslin's own thoughts are, unsurprisingly, not far from Chris', although he has an additional concern. The severe shortage of Kandrona has left his worries scattered, and they flicker in and out of his thoughts in a desperate, almost manic sort of way. He hasn't been this weak, this starved, in years. Still, despite the overwhelming hunger, his fears continue to circle back around to Chris and Tess -- especially Tess. And to Reven, who he was unable to locate on base. And to his people, the nomadic rebel pirates who he had led for almost a decade. And to--
No, don't, he chastises himself. That was a direction his thoughts could not wander. No matter how hungry he was, no matter how much pain he was in.
How many had survived? How many had been shoved, like him, into an insultingly small box where they had been starved, tortured, and treated like less than animals by the Andalites? And, almost more important to him than his fellow Yeerks, was the question of what happened to the humans they inhabited.
Part of him, a small part, recognizes the inevitability of their situation. How many times had they had a near brush with death, with torture, with their enemies? How many times had they barely escaped? But Keslin had never thought the end of their security would come from the Andalites rather than the Empire.
Trapped within the confines of his painfully small, painfully inadequate tub, Keslin shivers in pain, hoping that when they come for him, as he knows they will, they will at least give him a quick death.
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"Please, not the birds again."
Tara LaFauci doesn't look up at the pleasant mountain landscape with its chirping cacophony of ecologically misplaced tropical birds. The image has been beaming along one side of her tiny cell for the last three hours, part of a cycle that at first irritated her and has long since started to make her weary for it to end. Her head is buried in her arms, her knees stuffed up against her chest, well-worn blue jeans splotched by angry tears.
Her voice is little more than a croak. She's worn it out into a raw mess in the last few days, and Myitt hadn't done much better with it, barking orders as they attempted to get as many people to safety as possible in as little precious time as they'd had.
But those last few days, the uncertainty of not knowing what had happened to her friends, her family, every person she knew and loved in this war, that was far worse torture than this Andalite attempt at conciliation that took the form of a mountain stream and a toucan.
Myitt, she cries silently, sniffling aloud and hating herself for crying. She pounds an angry fist into her bare arm. God, Illim...Daniel... She blinks and looks up at the clear wall of her cell, swallowing back tears and anger, wiping her nose loudly and unapologetically with the back of her hand. The last time she'd seen her human-and-Yeerk husband duo they all had been in the midst of the rush to evacuate.
Pandemonium couldn't begin to describe what that horror had been like, and the base had survived emergency evacuations before. No one ever dreamed the decisive blow would come from the Andalites, and that sent another pang of anger and grief through Tara's chest. Especially after their supposed liaison had come to speak with her, here in this cell. Oh, how lucky the Andalite girl had been that Tara didn't have the Dracon that her fingers had been twitching for. Lucky that the protective force barrier had kept her own hands from the Andalite's scrawny neck.
Another nauseating rush. Illim Seven-One-Eight. Daniel Feldstein. A hasty kiss and a wordless nod, a desperate moment in which there had been nothing more important in the world than clinging to each other, refusing to leave--and they'd gone their separate ways, the four of them.
Now they may well be dead, and that brave, fiery-headed but level-headed ginger sonuva**** Reven, and Corliss who had once plucked them from the brink of death, and Makayla--she was just a ****ing toddler...no, she thinks bitterly. They're alive. They ****ing have to be. Can't think that way. You just can't, dammit. If she started down that path the crushing feeling in her chest would overwhelm her, and she wasn't sure if the end result would make her throw up, or break her toe bones while she kicked the everliving **** out of this cell.
A small, slightly crazed smile flits across her face as she considers the second prospect, swallowing the first one down hard. At least they let me keep my boots, she says to herself, resolute.
She sighs raggedly, taking a little comfort in that thought, waiting and listening to the dissonant sounds of Earth.
Myitt One-Nine-Five, unknowingly sitting one liquid cell above Keslin, tries desperately to turn around in the cramped space.
It isn't a very flattering or successful maneuver.
Her fluid myocytes ache from lack of use. It was maddening, being unable to stretch and swim.
But like her human friend Tara, there is a deeper fury running through her pain-addled mind.
Trapped as they'd been, by Andalites of all people--where had Ossanlin been, then? Where was he, now?--she had only left Tara voluntarily to spare the girl's already damaged ears any more pain.
She'd been questioned, tortured, left with nothing but impotent rage and ever-present grief. All that she had lived for these long years, all of it taken away. Her brothers, her partners, her friends. The very movement that they had been fighting for--that her friends had been dying for. All gone, and for what?
For what?
A stupid misunderstanding? An Imperial ploy? Where, where was the fatal piece they had missed? The one part of the equation that she could have solved that would have saved them? Could have saved more of them?
It's no use thinking about it now, she thinks to herself, refusing to use the pool-based communicator as she had nearly the entire duration of her capture. Her palps droop as she slumps, depressed, in the little bath of pitifully cool liquid. Even the slow pain of near starvation was a welcome reprieve from her thoughts, which were much more painful.
She waits, either for the pain of starvation to peak into madness and death, or for someone--anyone--to come and make contact. Even if that, too, meant death.
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Ossanlin nods before continuing.
<Once the first floor-breacher is attached, Claxter and Ehvrin will take up a post at the bottom of the eastern ramp-well. Esarvit and Aurellia will begin cutting up into the central computer chamber, meanwhile, Enorryma and I will begin opening the hatch to the singularity chamber.> He glances at Norry before bringing up a detail of the singularity chamber.
<There will be two engineers and one security officer here, here, and here. I'll take the shot at the security officer while you take the bottom-floor engineer as he will be the furthest away, Norry. Then both of us will take the second engineer.> He moves his gaze back to Esarvit. <At this point, Esarvit and Aurellia will already be inside the central computer chamber. Esarvit will have accessed the direct terminal to download the Yeerk prisoner data and upload his spectral virus. The central computer chamber should also be empty, though there is a small possibility of a tech being present. If the tech is present, you'll have to take him out as soon as possible. Once the virus is uploaded, Esarvit will give Enorryma and I the go-ahead to disconnect the manual breakers. Of course we can't stop a singularity from producing energy, but we can cut the rest of the facility off from it. Once the main power feeds have been cut, Esarvit and Aurellia will manually disengage the battery breaker attached to the computer system. Esarvit's virus will selectively lock-down the facility. Levels one and two will be completely cut off from levels zero and negative one. Central command, the cell-block commands, and the labs will all be locked down. The loss of primary power will propagate the original lockdown, and the computer freeze will keep the others from restoring control through secondary means. Any sort of distress will seal the Yeerk cell-block with a bulkhead as thick as the walls around it.>
He glances around the entire table, bringing up a detail of the eastern ramp-well up to level zero, showing a dotted red line spiraling up to an access to weapons and tech storage. <Once the lockdown has been completely applied, Claxter and Ehvrin will move into the eastern ramp-well and follow this route to weapons and tech storage on level zero. The lockers should be completely unsecured thanks to the virus. Anyone you encounter will have to be taken down, there's no getting around that. At least the modified ASARs will only stun. Once you get into the storage lockers, confiscate any "Yeerk" technology taken on or after the date that the rebellion fell, as much as you can carry without encumbering yourselves. The satchels should allow you to carry a good deal.> He nods at Claxter and Ehvrin before moving his eyes to Esarvit and Aurellia. <At the same time, Esarvit and Aurellia will descend back through the floor into the maintenance room, and will re-adjust the cut-out appropriately.> He changes the view to show the south-east quadrant of level negative one. <You two will exit into the southern hallway of level negative one and continue to this entrance of the Yeerk supply room. You will both need to procure as many portable kandrona generators as you can carry, as well as the nutrient mixture.> The display shows small suspension crates containing kandrona generators, and sealed sacks of nutrient supplement.
<While all of this is happening, Enorryma and I will ascend the western ramp-well to level zero. We will obtain as much host-supplement as we can carry, and then will free the imprisoned hosts. We will escort them back down to the maintenance levels and will activate the energy seals around each ramp-well. At the same time, we will remotely activate the floor-breacher that Claxter and Ehvrin attached underneath the Yeerk cells here.> The display moves back to a full map of the maintenance level with the position of the first floor-breacher blinking. <All six of us will rendezvous back at that location. The floor should be cut through completely by the time we all arrive at the rendezvous, hosts included. Claxter and Ehvrin will transfer the confiscated weapons and effects back to the hosts at this time. Esarvit will transfer the Yeerk prisoner data, and I'll communicate the proper prisoner numbers to each of your ARCs.> He changes the view to show a detail of the Yeerk cell-block. <Enorryma will ascend first, then myself. Then Claxter and Esarvit. Aurellia and Ehvrin will stay below to guard the hosts. We won't have to worry about anyone in the cell-block, their own overbearing defense system will keep them out as effectively as anyone else. We'll extricate the appropriate Yeerk cells from the block. We'll extricate only those cells which are specified. We will then descend back to the maintenance levels. We won't have time to allow immediate re-infestation. We will proceed back along this route to our entry point, exit, and disembark the facility for the Tyrennian. Is the plan clear? If anyone requires clarification, speak now, this will be the final briefing before we actually put our plans into action.> He looks around the table, making eye-contact with each of his Warriors in turn.
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<That's a lot to remember at one time, but I will do my parts, sir.> He wasn't positive he'd be able to remember all that fir the duration of the mission, but he'd try repeating it to himself whenever he could. There was certainly a lot riding on this mission, though he wasn't sure what would be done with the rebels if the mission succeeded. Could they restart? Would it make much difference? He supposed that would be their decisions to make. For that matter, what were Ossanlin and company going to do? They were listed as dead, so their military careers were pretty much over. Were they going to join the new rebellion?
These were pointless thoughts. If he was going to think of anything, he needed to think of the mission. Not what if scenarios if the mission succeeded.
-
<Understood. What's the size of this facility? Will we be within thought-speak range to confirm movements with you?>
The virus was not Esarvit's most elegant piece of work, but it had been fun to throw together, immersing himself in the rudimentary basics of access spectroscopy. Once his initial simulations had worked, the next step had been to make sure it would work on those computers. And that, too, had been straightforward.
It would be one thing if I'd had to experiment, make sure I could hack into some Yeerk computer. Of course, their technology is merely repurposed Andalite systems--it would have been a trifle. But no, I have to turn against my own comrades in blades...
An easier task then he'd expected for this war, and a more difficult one.
-
A thought occurred to Norry, and she nearly dismissed it offhand before realizing that if Ossanlin had plans for the Yeerks they would be rescuing, this might present a difficulty for his plan.
<Sir, the standard protocol for containment of imprisoned Yeerks is at a state of perpetual near-starvation. Do we have facilities for Kandrona feeding? If not, we cannot expect them to survive long. If we take the Kandrona prison array from the ship when we raid it, then we also guarantee death for those Yeerks still on board, while encumbering ourselves severely in transporting it. What measures are we taking to keep them alive long enough-> she paused, about to say -to be useful, but thought better of it, <- to return to their hosts?>
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Ossanlin regards Esarvit first. <The facility is not overly large, but some of the containment units, especially the walls around the Yeerk cells and the singularity chamber could cause some interference. Even so, our ARCs have all been synchronized as a combat unit, so we will have continuous contact through them regardless of thought-speech range.>
Ossanlin nods to Enorryma next. <There is a basin set up in the med-bay. The Mirage itself is capable of generating sterile water. They will need to feed within nine standard hours of being removed from the facility, any longer would risk starvation. Since we cannot project the curvature of Z-Space more than a few minutes ahead of time...perhaps a bit further with you at the helm, but not by nearly enough...the Yeerks will have to feed aboard the Mirage. Once the nutrient mixture and water is properly mixed and heated, I plan on running several portable kandrona generators inside the basin to create a kandrona-rich feeding pool for the Rebels...one to be used immediately after obtaining safe distance from Primus and the Corvus facility. I do not plan on attempting to hijack the permanent array from the facility as that would border upon impossibility, even when compared with the rest of this mission. The rest of the Yeerks there will be Imperials, and while I do not advocate the methods used there, rescuing Imperial loyalists is none of our concern.>
He nods. <Once we have enough time and resources, we can build kandrona generators. We only need to take enough portables for perhaps ten feeding cycles, and we might get by with less. That need is precisely why Esarvit and Aurellia must pass through Yeerk storage after uploading the virus. A similar need is why we ourselves must visit the host-supplement storage area.>
-
Joanne paced the strange green grass angrily, like a tiger trapped in a cage. The bright holographic, cheerful Sun was driving her so crazy that she seriously debated trying to shut the entire system down. It was a mockery of everything they had been through. Except it was just her in this box. Her alone. Keshin was gone, and she had no idea where he was. They took him from me. They took him. Joanne clenched her fists, and then sat on the ground attempting to cool off. A wave crested over the beach displayed on the screens.
....no, no, no. What was it Kess had said? Don't cause any trouble for the Andalite guards and don't do anything stupid? Something like that. He was right, of course. Although, it was already too late. She'd attempted escape a while back with nothing but her fists, but without her weapons she didn't stand a chance against the stupid blue freaks. The weirdest thing was how little they cared. As far as they were concerned, it was a cry for help. She'd known people like that, and meeting an entire race of them was a nightmare. Cry for help indeed. **** them.
She rubbed her hands against her temples, trying to think amid the garish glare of the holograms. It wasn't really something she was used to doing. They'd gotten a call along the Imperial transmission channels about a rebellion fight in some random system they knew nothing about. Judging from the reports the spoils sounded pretty good. No matter who won, an able turelek could profit from the battle. It was a strange lead, but they needed the money. They expected to find Imperials and rebels, only Yeerks. Instead they found the one group Kess refused to make deals with: Andalites.
Joanne wasn't really sure why the Yeerks hated the Andalites so much, but after meeting more of them she was starting to get the idea. It wasn't so bad in here, though. All she had to do was wait. Keshin always found a way out of these situations, and if he couldn't the Peace Movement would. Joanne certainly had no ideas that wouldn't kill her, but he had to. Had to. She just needed to be ready to make some noise when they came for her. ...right?
___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ___________________ _____________
Keshin laughed in bitterness inside his mind as he hung inside his cage. ....they were done, of course. There was no way out. He could see no options through his nearly empty Kandrona cells. Joanne could not find him on her own, and none of the Peace Movement rebels would be rescued. Even if by some chance someone did bail them out, they would leave him and his partner here to die. They were both living on borrowed time. It's over. I'm sorry.
He couldn't move. It felt like he could barely breathe. The oppression of walls and constrictions was again closing around him, worse than before. He had his palps to the console, waiting. He was...lonely. He was born among millions of his own kind and even out in space he had his amiable host. What would he even say to them? "Sorry you dapsen blue monsters, I just happened to wander into your crackdown?" Yeah, that would go over really well.
Still...he couldn't give up hope that someone would talk to him. He couldn't consider the possibility that he would be trapped without another voice forever.
-
Ossanlin glances around the table once more. <If there are no further questions or concerns, this briefing is adjourned. Z-Space puts our time of arrival in approximately fifty-seven standard minutes. Use the next forty-seven minutes as you see fit, whether it be sparring, resting, or running though your portions of the plan. At ToA ten standard minutes, those of us who have not already will demorph, and then we will all remorph simultaneously. We'll perform a final equipment check, and then it will commence.> Ossanlin gestures with his hand, indicating that his Warriors are free to do as they would for the next three-quarters of an hour. Ossanlin remains in morph, and brings up the full blueprints again, analyzing everything once again. There were so many things that could go wrong...so many ways that this entire endeavor could fail, but Prince Raigar's words bolster his spirits. When greatness was demanded, you either failed, or you rose to the occasion. Cost was irrelevant, duty a necessity.
-
If someone were to ask her which is worst--the dizziness, the headaches, the repeated incidents of heartburn, or the constant need to use a bathroom--Tess would not know where to begin. These all pale in comparison to the contractions, though, which had begun in the last two weeks and become alarmingly frequent ever since the unthinkable had happened at the rebel base. It was as if someone had secretly inserted a vice around her bloated abdomen while she slept and started squeezing her mercilessly whenever it pleased them. Each contraction made her groan aloud, but the worst of them, the ones that went on for minutes, found her crouched on the floor, clutching her nine-month-pregnant stomach and squeezing her dark eyes shut.
So it is not lightly that Tess dismisses these significant corporal concerns in light of her emotional and situational ones.
Oh god, she moans internally, a nearly constant mantra ever since she has been holed away in this superficially pleasant prison. Oh god, Keslin... Chris...
She does not know where her lovers are, or if they are even alive. She knows nothing at all about any of her friends or loved ones--her adopted family through her partners of ten years or the rebels they had led during that decade.
Each time the thought that they could be dead intrudes her mind, she is overcome with another wave of grief, hugging her knees as she sits in the corner, tears stinging her eyes. The position is, in fact, nearly indistinguishable from the one the contractions send her into.
This is the position she is in now, spine curled away from the wall, shoulders trembling under her t-shirt, unwashed hot pink hair hanging limply around her neck. The fabric covering her abdomen and thighs feature splotches of water from her silent crying, and she closes her eyes against the holographic display. She doesn't know what to wish for anymore. Nothing but a time machine will do.
-
<What do you suppose would be the best place for sparring?> Claxter asked Norry. <Since we'll be fighting Andalites, do you think one of us should be in our natural form while the other stays in morph? Or do you think it won't make a major difference?> He didn't think they'd need to spar for forty seven minutes, so the last part of that time would probably be spent going back over the plan. Either in his head, or reading the display again.
-
<Perhaps we could alternate which of us is in morph: first I demorph, and we spar, and then I remorph and you demorph, and we spar again. This way, we both get practice in the Hork-Bajir form, against an Andalite. Each session should not exceed ten standard minutes, to avoid premature fatigue onset. I believe there will be room in the common area, as nearly everybody is at the bridge currently.>
Norry was attempting to be courteous: in this configuration, she would be demorphing and remorphing one time more than Claxter, immediately before the mission... and she knew she needed the practice entering and leaving the morph, as much as anything because she realized she was psychologically preventing herself from accepting that it was necessary.
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<I'll see you in the common area then.> Claxter said. He went to the room, and started stretching, and trying out some punches and kicks, trying to find his point of balance. The host didn't have strong fighting instincts, but it did at least know how to move around without being clumsy. In the most ideal situation, they wouldn't have to fight at all. Just fire a stunning blast, and the opponent would go down. There was always a chance that something would happen, and they'd have to fight. He hoped they wouldn't get injured enough that they'd have to demorph in front of the Andalites and blow their cover. He supposed that would be one of the worst case scenarios, aside from one of the rebels getting injured.
Would he be able to stand between a rebel and the Andalites, knowing he could morph away injuries? Ossanlin would probably expect him to. He continued his stretches until Enorryma was ready.
-
Enorryma demorphed, a process she found altogether too slow, frustrating in its gracelessness, but which was still entirely relieving: she could reclaim her tail, her eyes, and the familiar muscular bulk and gracile hands of her own body.
She moved quickly to the common area and stood facing Claxter.
<I am ready when you are.> She was eager to work away some of her tension, and nothing would do that as readily as sparring.
-
Ossanlin runs through the mission once more before moving to one corner of the room where the gear and packs sit. He begins checking through each one, making sure the appropriate packs contain floor-breachers and transport packs. He goes over the ASARs also setting in the corner, checking each lens array to make sure they would each fire a reddish stun beam instead of a lethal azure beam.
Nodding to himself, Ossanlin turns around to watch the sparring between Claxter and Enorryma. If all went well, such hand-to-hand combat wouldn't be necessary, but preparedness for all eventualities was something one expected in officers. Inevitably there would be some Andalites left in the halls when the computer lockdown went into effect...it might also be possible that some of the facility Andalites would find ways around the lockdown. Preparedness for all eventualities...
-
Claxter assumed a battle position, leading with his right side. He kept his body limber, ready to strike from any angle. He tried to judge the range of Norry's tail, and stay outside of it until ready to strike, and when he did he make a jab as quickly as he could towards her chest. It was certainly slower than a tail strike, but if the Andalite blade got locked with the wrist blade, the Hork-Bajir could grab the tail. Quantity was the Hork-Bajir's strength instead of quality, as far as blades went.
-
Norry hopped backward, the arm blade missing her chest closely enough to feel the wind of its passing ruffle her fur. She pivoted, throwing her weight to her forward hooves and rotating her body clockwise, putting her tail in range so that she could make a glancing strike toward the base of Claxter's neck... but it also meant leaving the broad side of her body wide open throughout the motion. She spoke as she moved, making evaluations aloud of the morph's qualities in single combat.
<I can certainly see the value of the Hork-Bajir's maneuverability. No doubt you can leap clear over my head if needed, and I could not say the same. Turning quickly is also more complicated on four legs than two.>
-
<You seem to not think incredibly highly of our technology. While our own bodies have many things going for it, I must say I wouldn't have been able to rescue an Andalite from Yeerk infestation if not for the morphing ability.> He said. as he was talking, he noticed Norry's opening, and decided to hunker down and rush her as she left her side open. The momentum of his strike had caused him to hunch down a bit, so he was just going with it, and turning it into a charge. Her blade glanced off his horns, and left a scratch down the side of his head. The neck was an obvious target, and he had been expecting her to strike there anyway.
-
Esarvit picks up his ARC and begins prodding at it, making sure he can manipulate all the buttons with his Hork-Bajir fingers. Of course, mostly he'll be using thoughtspeak to control it, but it's good to be sure.
Satisfied, he demorphs for the time being, tilting back as his front legs regrow and then shifting as his center of gravity bounds outward, relieved to be back on four hooves even for a short while.
-
Enorryma waited for Claxter to rush toward her, and then she bent all four legs and folded her body as low to the ground as she could while still keeping her feet planted firmly under her, sweeping her tail upward over her back to make a raking swipe toward Claxter's lower abdomen.
It was a very risky maneuver, but one she'd wanted to try before and never really had the chance to test in a controlled environment. One of his blades or talons still managed to catch her shallowly in the meaty part of her flank, well away from anything vital, and the stinging pain helped her focus, made her feel more intensely alive and attentive.
Adrenaline addict? Me? Perish the thought.
<On the contrary, I think our technology is what levels the playing field, but sometimes we are limited just to what our bodies can do. In this combat between two bladed herbivores, the Hork-Bajir has a clear advantage of rapid mobility in three dimensions, not just two, and the ability to strike in more than one way at once. The Andalite advantage is speed per single strike, and sensory acuity, if technological weapons are excluded.>
-
Ossanlin watches the sparring in interest. Neither was holding back, apparently. He doesn't allow his slight alarm to show when blood is drawn. Had it not been possible to simply morph the damage away, he would've forbidden it outright. There wasn't much to worry about, but Ossanlin always feels a repressed pang anytime one of his Warriors takes damage.
He walks around the sparring pair in a wide circle, observing the techniques used by each. Ossanlin raises an eyebrow as Enorryma drops close to the ground...few Andalites would even consider such a move. But Claxter seems to be taking things in stride, showing (honestly) more skills than Ossanlin thought him in possession of. Of course he'd not had much chance to view the Warrior in hand to hand combat before.
-
He hadn't expected her to duck. Now he was in danger of just going over her, and her tail was coming up to gut him. He couldn't just jump out of the way, since he was leaning forward, and his momentum would send him practically tripping over her. Probably the best thing he could do to stop the attack was to catch the base of her tail. She could still flinch away better if he went for her head, though obviously if he didn't have morphing power, a slit gut would be worse than a hacked tail.
So he tried to hit her near the base of her tail to try to mitigate damage. When he felt her blade touch his abdomen, he knew she wouldn't really gut him, so it was hard to say how much his plan would help if it was a real fight. As for keeping himself from bowling over her, he tried his best to lift his legs over. He was in a bit of an awkward position to try kicking her, but his feet did come over towards her upper half, so if he happened to whack her in the head, it wasn't on purpose.
-
Claxter's bid for her tail was successful enough to leave a long, stinging laceration where Norry knew a real fight would have de-tailed her.
She leaned her torso so that when his talons passed by, they caught her shoulder instead of her head. As soon as Claxter had flown clear of her, she threw all her legs' considerable muscle and built up potential energy into leaping straight up, putting herself not quite two meters clear of the ground. She came down fast and immediately turned the landing into the first spring of a charge toward Claxter, her injured tail a bit slower but still whipping toward him and cracking loudly in the air at different places near his body, FWAPP FWAPP FWAPP, without actually striking him. She watched for how his morph would respond to the volley of noise coming from different directions.
<Claxter, tell me, since the Hork-Bajir's strongest sense after diurnal distance vision is hearing, do you find this distracting? Is there an instinctive urge to turn away from facing me, to look for the source of the sound? I want to know just how much the unidirectional vision is going to create problems for me.>
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Claxter landed gracefully enough, but wasn't able to twist his body much to where he was facing Norry when he landed. He tried backing away as she rushed forward, and the fast moves of her tail blade were hard to keep up with. <That's definitely confusing.> He said as he backed away, raised his arms defensively, and tried to track where her tail was. When his tail made contact with the wall, he was worried he'd be cornered, but decided to use the wall to his advantage by bracing against it and using it to jump above her. He briefly supported his weight on his tail while pushing off the wall with his feet to attack from above. He'd have to try to catch her upper and lower half with his feet, but also try not to bring down his full force. Morphing or not, being body slammed by a several hundred pound force would hurt if he didn't make sure much of his weight landed on the floor.
<Aboreal warriors should attack from above!>
-
Norry turned the flat of her tail toward his chest and attempted to shove him away so he wouldn't land on her, but there was no way she'd completely avoid his feet and getting her tail grabbed during his landing.
<Andalites have no aerial predators in our evolutionary history; this is definitely an interesting dilemma!>
-
Ossanlin watches the sparring with a good amount of interest before Leskel sends him a private thought-speech. <<Prince Ossanlin, could you come here please?>>
Ossanlin takes his eyes off the sparring match and walks up to the flight-deck. Leskel tracks Ossanlin's approach with a stalk eye. He nods toward a holo-display that he has enlarged over the console. Ossanlin sees what Leskel is talking about immediately. He nods without looking away from the display and directs a private thought to Leskel. <<What do you think, ToA fifteen standard minutes?>> He immediately begins to demorph.
<<Fourteen point seven three nine standard minutes at the point of observation, Prince.>> Leskel averts his eyes while Ossanlin demorphs.
Once back in his original form, Ossanlin scans the common room with three eyes, the fourth watching Leskel. <<Very well, make the necessary adjustments.>> He opens his thought to broad-range to encompass the interior of the Mirage. <Warriors, there has been an unexpected zero space deviation. Our time of arrival is now approximately thirteen standard minutes. Please finish your exercises within the next three minutes and make yourselves ready.>
The floor of the Mirage seems to shift as the ship flows along the new curve in z-space before things return to normal.
-
Enorryma's tail pushed against Claxter as he landed mostly on one leg and his tail, and trying to grasp her body with one foot while one hand went for her tail and a wrist blade went for her neck. An involved finishing move, but one he thought would look impressive if he could nail it.
Then Ossanlin told them to wrap things up. <Yes my Prince.> He said. It was never good news to be told you had less time than you thought beforehand. Would he be able to go over the plan one more time, or would he just have to try to recall everything from memory? He was afraid to ask, for fear of seeming less competent.
-
Enorryma heard the order from Ossanlin, <Understood, Sir,> and immediately disengaged herself from the grapple with Claxter, offering him her hand.
<Thank you for a most instructive practice session, Claxter. May we someday have the opportunity to try this again, when there is more time.> Offering to spar again carried more weight than it seemed to imply: it meant both that he had impressed her and won her respect, even camaraderie, and that she fully expected both of them to still be alive and fighting-fit after this mission.
Norry brought herself to her feet and commenced morphing the Hork-Bajir again, and this time it was easier, if not more natural. She'd experienced its skill first-hand, from the defending side, and she believed now that she would be able to trust this strange body to keep her and her Prince alive.
-
<Thank you. I'd be happy to.> He said as he helped her up. It was nice to have made a new friend, though she was his superior, so there would still need to be a level of professional respect. He demorphed to reset his timer, and would wait a couple of minutes to remorph again. He made his way back to the bridge, and glanced over the map as he tried to remember every detail of his role and the other's as well to an extent as that may be helpful too. After that, he remorphed Hork-Bajir again.
-
Enorryma followed Claxter back to the bridge and reported quickly to Ossanlin, then stood nearby, now much more mentally relaxed and ready for the mission, to await further orders.
-
Unexpected--figures, Esarvit cuts himself off, concentrating on resuming the Hork-Bajir form. Having just morphed it, it's easier to remember the feel of his blades, and he doesn't stiffen up when his tail changes form.
He grips the ARC tightly as he follows Ossanlin towards the bridge. Unlike some Andalites, he does not have a very good instinctual reckoning for time elapsed, and he'll have to rely on his computer to keep track of their progress.
And his comrades, of course. But then again, it's hard to be sure who's really on his side.
-
Ossanlin nods and begins his own re-morph into the Hork-Bajir form. Once finished, Ossanlin walks over to the packs stored in the far corner of the room. Ehvrin and Aurellia also demorph and remorph, following Ossanlin.
<Alright.> Ossanlin arms his ARC emitter-array, queuing up its HUD functionality. Immediately a translucent hologram projects in front of his right eye, showing him an analysis of his surroundings. He regards his warriors with his main eyes, each overlaid with a slight-green hue in his right eye to indicate "friendlies." All anyone would be able to see from the other side is a slight, translucent blue glow slightly discoloring the white portion of his right-side eye. The display also shows each Warrior's unit I.D. followed by their first name, except for Enorryma, whose name Ossanlin had programmed as "Vanarx"...a private demonstration of respect for a fellow Tail Fighter pilot. Enorryma was still something of a legend amongst young fighter-pilots...she had already been one while he was in the Academy, and he's willing to bet she could still whip him in the ****pit.
He glances down at his wrist-mount, which had only had to expand slightly with the morph due to Ossanlin's well-developed upper body while in his natural form. He uses his right hand to press a few buttons on the control-panel, causing each of his Warrior's ARCs to request HUD functionality from their users. Aurellia and Ehvrin activate their HUD functionality at the request.
Ossanlin turns back to the packs and begins to hand them out. <Claxter, make sure your pack contains the number one floor-breacher assembly. Ehvrin, you make sure yours contains two compression-packs and the east-well restriction field generator. Esarvit, make sure your pack contains the number two floor-breacher. Make sure that you also have the spectral virus and central computer interface unit. Without those, we'll all be nothlitized, destroyed, or both.>
He continues to hand out packs with instructions. <Aurellia, make sure your pack contains two compression-packs as well. And Enorryma, verify that yours carries the final two compression packs and the west-well restriction field generator.> Ossanlin checks his own pack to verify that it contains the stable Yeerk-cell carrier he'd manufactured. It could hold up to fifteen cells, Ossanlin silently hopes that each of those slots is necessary.
<Once you verify that you have your appointed pieces of equipment, each of you check your ASAR to make sure that the alternate lens assembly has been properly installed. Remember, nothing but a single holster containing your standard handheld Dracon, your "cube-computer" pouch, and your medkit on your belts. Once you've verified these factors, call "operation-ready."> He nods, running his eyes over each of his Warriors awaiting their declarations of readiness. He had already checked and rechecked his own ASAR's lens assembly, but he does finger the unfamiliar grip of the Dracon at his waist. Such nasty devices...crude and uncivilized, but it's the tech that the Rebels use, and so many things hinge upon this deception...as the saying went, 'With deception, the Crayak is in the details.'
-
Claxter checked the floor breacher assembly first, which was where it should be. He checked the other stuff, including his ASAR, which was fully functional. He then checked everything once more, just to make absolutely sure. <Operation ready.> He said. Everything he needed was there. The plan was set, and he was as ready as he could possibly be. Part of him was pumped, and part of him was nervous, but he'd try not to overthink things. just focus on his role, and things should go well.
-
Enorryma checked her gear, starting with the standard non-combat equipment, then moving to her ASAR and examining it carefully as Ossanlin had prescribed. She finally made a survey of her own personal sidearm, guaranteeing to herself that she had done everything necessary to make it appear like an ordinary Dracon weapon, despite its adjusted functionality. She had altered the lens assembly to emit red beams, and she'd modified the grip to look standard-issue while still giving her concealed access to the weapon's settings.
For once, she hoped she would not require her sidearm, since the settings would be somewhat more difficult to manipulate as an Hork-Bajir.
Norry was ready, knowing privately that her medkit contained two of her crush-consume stim tablets along with all its other standard equipment.
<Operation-ready, Sir.>
-
Esarvit goes through the checking, squinting a little to make sure his is the number two breacher. Although, if Claxter's is correct, mine has to be...right?
He checks again, all is as it should be. The virus, well, he hopes the virus is correct. It's a tiny chip he's saved this copy to, and there's no telling that someone hasn't swapped the files. Of course, nobody else should have been allowed access--but all the same, its power is invisible to the naked eye. It could be anything, just as the female Hork-Bajir body is really Esarvit-Alosian-Ingirat.
<Operation-ready, sir,> he intones.
-
Ossanlin nods as Ehvrin, Aurellia, and Leskel all announce combat readiness.
Outside the Mirage's viewports, blank whiteness appears to accelerate into the regular white-specked blackness of true space. Looming in front of the Mirage is the giant greenish-blue striations of the gas giant known as Corvus II. Outside, as soon as the Mirage is visible in true-space, it ripples to invisibility as the camouflage engages. The ship flows into a high planetary orbit.
<Sir, we'll be entering the atmosphere of Primus in approximately 35 seconds.> Leskel, standing at the helm, pilots the approach. <We should be on the ground in 1.7 minutes.>
Ossanlin glances around at his Warriors again. <Remember, NO open thought-speech, I cannot stress this enough. The whole idea is to convince the operators of this facility that they have been raided by Yeerks. One open thought will ruin the entire disguise. Private thoughts within battle-group, ARC transmission between alternate groups. Do not use thought-speech on any of the hosts...they could ruin the disguise almost as effectively as an open thought, even though they don't mean to. If they need convincing, I'll handle that bridge when we come to it.>
The viewers glow a bit as the Mirage begins sliding into the atmosphere of Primus. <Remember, the atmosphere isn't easily-breathable. We'll survive better as Hork-Bajir due to the lower need for breathable atmosphere, but we can't last more than a standard hour exposed to the atmosphere. Leskel will use the stationary guard's rebreather. Once we pass through the airlock on the service level, we'll be fine.>
The slight orange glow disappears and the Mirage slides through the black sky of Primus's umbral night. Nothing is visible on the pitch-black ground until, quite-suddenly, a small, well-lit dome comes into view where before there had appeared to be nothing. One corner has a second, smaller dome with landing pads, but near the back corner, two landing-pads and a hangar structure stand outside environmental protection, with a small, domed hallway leading toward it from the main dome.
<Sir, I'm tracking the mobile guard just passing, he'll be passing into his return trip in approximately thirty seconds.> Leskel manipulates the Mirage's controls to hover silently and invisibly, moving toward one of the landing pads and descending softly, making absolutely no noises. <Activating solar reflex interference.>
Ossanlin nods. <It's time. Enorryma, take up position at the bottom of the ramp. The stationary guard should be standing just outside of the main hangar door, directly in the middle.> He nods. <Your shot needs to hit, Vanarx. If the guard has a chance to give warning, the entire endeavor fails. I know you won't miss.>
The landing struts touch down on the vacant landing pad silently, the ship still completely concealed. The displays show the stationary guard exactly where he's supposed to be. The mobile guard is approaching the front of the hangar on his route. <The mobile guard will cross in front of the hangar, then start back down the tunnel. I'll give the signal once it's safe. Everyone, stay safe. We'll be fighting our one-time comrades out there, but you need to remember who they work for. The Electorate is a group of genocidal fools. They kill those who are attempting to achieve the same ends as we...and their innocent hosts as well. They strip our defenses and lose valuable ground to the Empire. Those males and females out there stand in the way. We're only stunning them...giving them nothing worse than a headache in the long run. They'll not be extending us the same courtesy, they'll shoot to kill. Give no quarter, and all of you,above all...return safely.> Ossanlin takes his own position at the top of the ramp, leaving the way clear for Enorryma to take hers.
-
Norry advanced to the foot of the ramp and shouldered her ASAR, dialing it into its most precise possible long-distance stun setting. She breathed deeply as she took careful, calculated aim on the stationary guard, filling her lungs with a last breath of pure ship's air.
This was the easy part. The real action came after this.
This was the crucial part, the first of ten thousand possible fatal mistakes which would end the mission.
She.
Must.
Not.
Miss.
Enorryma expelled her breath slowly, evenly, and squeezed the trigger of the ASAR as soon as the mobile guard was out of visual range.
The red beam lanced across the expanse between Norry and the stationary guard.
She watched and waited a tense second for the guard to drop.
-
No open thought speech. That shouldn't be too hard, since he'd used private thought speech before. Not for a whole mission, but he knew stealth was the hihest priority here. He took some deep breaths of the ship's air. It would be th best air until they got inside.
The tactical officer lined up her shot. She'd stun him, then they'd move in. first step for him was to keep watch while the others did their part. If some Andalite decided to take a walk or something, he'd have to be quick and make sure his shot didn't miss either.She fired her shot, and the mission was underway.
-
Ossanlin watches the beam of purplish-red energy lance out from Enorryma's weapon. He watches as it flies true, and watches as the stationary guard crumples to the ground. <Excellent shot, Norry.> He nods and leaps down the ramp, ASAR shouldered. He sends a group private thought to all of his Warriors. <<Private thought-speech and ARC communication only from here on out. Make sure your ARC HUD is armed.>> He begins to jog toward the building several meters away, his ARC HUD giving his right eye perfect night-vision. <<Some may morph Hork-Bajir...the HUD's have been programmed to show comrades in green. Once we rescue the hosts, I will program the physical features of any captured Hork-Bajir into each of your ARC's. In other words, if the Hork-Bajir shows red, shoot.>>
He makes it to the main hangar and examines the crumpled body of the stationary guard. <<Aurellia, Leskel...quickly. Ehvrin and Claxter, help Aurellia move him in between those storage crates and the building. No one will see him there. Norry, Esarvit, you're both with me...we need to get that hatch open.>>
Aurellia jogs across the small open area, and Leskel gallops. Immediately upon reaching the unconscious Andalite, Aurellia begins affixing the suppressant collar to his neck, and Leskel begins to acquire him. Leskel strips the Andalite of his gear and Aurellia finishes affixing the collar as Leskel begins to morph the unconscious guard.
Meanwhile, Ossanlin pushes the manual sliding door open to reveal a hangar in disuse as he waits for Enorryma and Esarvit to join him. He had already deviated from the plan a bit, but the guard needed to be hidden out of sight.
-
Claxter bounded down the ramp with his hand on his firearm, and his eyes scanning the area. When he made it to the guard, he helped hide him away, and got back to Ossanlin. So far so good, and not an enemy in sight. He continued surveying the area, regretting not having stalk eyes, until the others got the hatch open and crept inside. He used his hearing to compensate for not being able to see behind him, listening for anything that sounded like hoof steps, or open thought speech.
-
Enorryma followed Ossanlin, pleased to have her shot land predictably and precisely, but not ****y enough to cheer her own success. It was still too early to make any evaluations on how well the mission would go.
Right now, she was just concerned with not letting Ossanlin out of her sight.
-
Esarvit checks his ARC, but it's all in working order as usual. He's been playing around with some simulations and seeing how much data he can quickly analyze using the smaller computers, which means that his ARC has been lagging slowly for a while once he'd pushed it to its limits. That was a few standard days ago, however, and it should be back up to full speed now. Should.
He follows Ossanlin, as silently as possible as the languid Hork-Bajir claws tramp forwards.
-
Leskel dons the guard's gear and takes up his post as Aurellia and Ehvrin help Claxter move the guard's body.
Meanwhile, Ossanlin walks into the dimly-lit hangar. His HUD shows the location of the hatch with a translucent red dot. <<It's over here.>> He proceeds to the back of the hangar to a stack of crates. He begins to lift and move the crates out of the way. <<They're being sloppy...these crates make this hatch almost useless.>> He continues to haul and move crates until the small, meter-diameter hatch is exposed. <<Make sure you shut that hangar door behind us.>>
He gets onto hands and knees, hooking three fingers behind a release trigger on the right side of the hatch. He pulls the trigger and there's a slight hiss as the side panel slides open. He grabs the hatch-release handle inside and pulls it up halfway, twists it a quarter turn, and pulls it the rest of the way. A loud hiss issues from the hatch assembly as the hatch sinks an inch into the floor and slides sideways, revealing a series of dimly-lit metallic bars leading straight down in a ladder configuration. <<Norry, you have the honor.>>
-
Norry quickly but quietly slid the hangar door closed. It was brighter outside the hangar than inside; if somebody approached the door, their shadow would show itself in the fine gap between door and floor. She moved to Ossanlin's side and nodded when he directed her to descend before him.
Her years in the ****pit had more than prepared her to be calm in enclosed and narrow spaces, so she was not claustrophobic when she slung the ASAR strap across her chest and began to descend the hatch ladder. A faint light from above provided enough illumination for her to easily find her way down.
At the last rung, she gripped the ladder one-handed and drew her sidearm. She lowered herself as quietly as she could into the maintenance area, searched the room for signs of movement, then holstered her sidearm upon finding the room vacant.
<<Clear.>> She stepped away from the ladder and waited for Ossanlin to follow.
-
Claxter stood near Ossanlin, ready for his cue to go down. He hadn't really thought about how small a space he'd be going through until he was looking right at it, and it made him pause. It sure was small. What if he got stuck? Enorryma didn't get stuck, and Claxter's morph was thinner than hers. He should be fine. He could not let this hold him up. He needed to get down there and use the floor breacher like he was supposed to. Maybe he'd just wait until one or two went before him, to make sure no one got stuck.
-
Ossanlin nods. <<Coming down.>> He enters the tight space, small lights placed between the rungs emitting the only visible light save that which emanates dimly from below. He descends the three levels quickly, ASAR and pack draped across his back. The pack is small enough not to scrape up against the walls, and hopefully the compression packs in Norry's pack would keep it that way, even after he stocks it with host supplies.
Both of his feet hit the floor and he glances at Norry, and then around the small, metallic room with a single closed doorway leading into the controlled-atmosphere portion of the facility. Tall enough to stand erect in without scraping head-blades at least, and ten meters to a side. <<I'm clear of the ladder.>>
Aurellia descends next, hopping nimbly down the rungs before calling herself clear of the ladder. Ehvrin waits in the hangar behind the other two males.
-
Claxter watched them go down without trouble, and got up the courage to get down there himself. He made his way down, closing his eyes once or twice so he wouldn't think too much about the tight space. By the time he got to the floor, he was breathing hard, even though he hadn't gotten stuck or anything. He thought about what the next step was, and remembered they would soon be at the point to attach the floor breacher. He checked it again, making sure he'd be able to get it out quickly when it was time.
-
Esarvit follows slowly. It's actually easier to trust the Hork-Bajir instincts for navigating the latter; their agility in clambering through trees serves him well even when navigating the purpose-built instrument.
Still, he's more comfortable on fat ground, and hurries to stand alongside Aurellia.
-
Ehvrin enters the shaft behind Esarvit and reaches into the hatch-release inside. He reverses the motion of handle, pulling down halfway, rotating the handle clockwise (from the bottom), and pulling it the rest of the way down, causing the hatch to slide shut. He descends the ladder quickly and nods to Ossanlin. <<We're good, sir.>>
Ossanlin nods in return and walks over to the doorway, glancing through the view-port down the mostly southeast-northwest tunnel to the first junction. It's empty as he'd predicted...this wasn't only the moon's umbral night, it was the actual night cycle. Most of the facility's individuals would be asleep in their cubes, save the night-security staff, the two engineers in the singularity chamber, a host-cell tech, two Yeerk-cell techs, and a four-person Operations team. Couple that with the fact that the maintenance tunnels were only ever occupied for actual maintenance, and they should have the entire level to themselves.
He pulls the door's release lever and it only hisses slightly before popping partway open. He pulls the door open far enough to pass through and steps out into the well-lit "tunnel," which actually consists of fully-formed halls...no bare rock despite being called a tunnel. He breathes deeply at the near-Homeworld-quality air, and motions his Warriors to follow. He jogs quickly to the first intersection and looks both ways before turning northeast along the main-facility border tunnel. Pipes and wires run through the walls, though their presence is mostly hidden by the smooth wall-panels, all made to be removed easily to allow for service. He rounds the bend and continues to jog straight east along the north border tunnel until he hits the second junction and turns south, his ASAR shouldered just in case. He reaches the curved wall of the main central lift. The lift itself has no access to the service level, but along the outside of the lift walls, another hatch not unlike the one the team passed through in the hangar is ensconced in the floor. One of the two auxiliary hatches into and out of the singularity chamber. He waits for his team to gather before reviewing the next phase of the mission.
-
The air in the tunnel was a welcome feeling as Claxter followed Ossanlin through. The first part was done, and no Andalites in sight in the tunnel. He stopped with Ossanlin at the end. It looked like a dead end, but he thought he remembered there was a different hatch nearby. Ossanlin was;t already working on removing it, so he'd probably say something before they went farther towards their goal.
-
Enorryma stayed close to Ossanlin the entire time, her sidearm drawn and ready for use. She liked the ASAR, but she didn't like how it took two hands to operate, no matter what. For an Andalite, having both hands occupied didn't affect balance, mobility, or self-defense from behind, but the Hork-Bajir was a climbing creature, and having both its hands full made its instincts highly agitated.
Norry was ready for the next phase of action.
-
Ossanlin nods as everyone gathers, crouching next to the hatch in the floor. <<Good. Claxter, Ehvrin, remember...you two will now attach the number one floor-breacher. Head north and east along the route marked on your HUD. Place the breacher assembly at the position I've programmed into the ARCs.>> He uses his wrist-panel to show Claxter and Ehvrin an overview of their route as well as the location of the first floor-breacher. <<Then move and hold your positions just outside the Eastern ramp-well.>>
He glances at Esarvit and Aurellia. <<You two head south around the lift service tunnel and turn south at the first junction.>> He uses the wrist-panel to cause their ARCs to show an overview of their route. <<Open the hatch in the ceiling and lift yourselves into the maintenance room on level negative one. I'm quite certain it will be deserted. Then apply the number two floor-breacher to the ceiling of the maintenance room at the location I've marked on your HUD. Once it's finished cutting, lift yourselves into the central computer chamber on level zero. It should also be devoid of people. I trust you know what to do after you get there, Esarvit. Contact me on your ARC to let me know you've made entry into the computer chamber, then upload the virus and download the Yeerk prisoner data.>>
Ossanlin then glances up at Enorryma. <<Once Esarvit sends us the signal, I'll pop the hatch and you'll drop in as quietly as you can, Norry, and I'll follow. You'll take the far tech, who should be stationed at this console on the bottom level,>> He uses the wrist-panel to show the location on Enorryma's HUD display, <<I'll take the security guard who should be nearest us by the lift. Then we'll both take the second technician who should be at this console almost directly below us. We have to be quick, Enorryma...they can't be allowed to shout a warning before we disarm those breakers...and we can't do that until Esarvit has finished with the central computer.>>
He glances again at Esarvit. <<Norry and I will be taking position at the breakers. Once you have the Yeerk prisoner data and have finished uploading the virus, send me another message via ARC saying as much, and then hold position. Norry and I will disarm the main breakers. Once the power fails, and it should do so quite abruptly, you and Aurellia must cut the computer's secondary battery breakers...merely a matter of switching the two levers off. Once that's done, we should have freedom of the facility for several minutes. I will send out a communication to both teams to begin the third phase of the operation at that time. Is the second phase clear?>> He uses his wrist-panel to return each Warrior's ARC HUD back to normal functionality.
Ehvrin tail-salutes and Aurellia nods, keeping watch around the corridors.
-
Claxter let the ARC guide him to the designated spot for the breacher. Things were pretty quiet along the way, though at one point he heard a soft clunk. He stopped and drew his weapon, trying to listen for any other sound. When none came, he chalked it up to just some random noise in the facility. He continued along until he came to the position.
He took out the floor breacher and started attaching it to the ceiling. Lasers would cut through to the next level when he flipped the switch at Ossanlin's command. Until he got that order, he'd hold position at the eastern ramp well. At the ramp he tried to listen for any sounds that would tell him someone was walking around. Even when they're supposed to be asleep, somtimes people wake up and take a walk for one reason or another.
-
<Understood, sir,> says Esarvit.
"Norry." Really? It's not enough to have three names, oh no, we're going to have nicknames too. Any scoop in the winds, of course, he's glad that there are talented women in the military, but there's a time and a place for the familiar and this facility is not it.
He stiffens. Need to keep focus, the plans have already shifted slightly and he doesn't want to waste any more time. As distracting as some of his superior's habits might be.
-
Ossanlin is concentrating so much on the mission planning, running things through his head, that he doesn't even realize he'd used Enorryma's familiar name when speaking with someone other than she herself. He watches as the other two teams depart, glancing up at Norry again. He doesn't allow his nervousness to show, and emanates an air of stolid confidence. <<Now we wait.>>
Ehvrin trots down the corridor after Claxter, ASAR held ready. His ARC shows the breacher's location and he watches down both corridors as Claxter attaches the assembly. <<It's quiet.>> He speaks privately to Claxter.
Aurellia trots around to the first junction and turns right, heading to the location of the hatch in the ceiling. She opens a side panel next to the hatch and pulls a small lever, causing the hatch to retract and slide sideways. She lifts herself into the maintenance room and bears her ASAR around, making sure there are no personnel. She waits for Esarvit to lift himself into the room so that they can attach the floor-breacher. <<Clear, sir.>> She sends a private thought to Esarvit.
-
<<Yes, but that's what we want, right? All those personnel are sound asleep in their rooms, completely unaware of us. Then they'll be so confused when we finally make ourselves known, that we'll all get out without much danger.>> Claxter said. He certainly didn't want to get stuck in a narrow tunnel while being fired at. Hopefully he didn't sound nervous. <<I think I heard a clunk earlier, but it was probably nothing.>>
-
Enorryma prepared for the next descent, waiting for Esarvit's signal and Ossanlin to open the hatch. Once again, she would be assigned to take down the more distant of two targets, and speed as well as precision was essential.
She winced internally when she realized Ossanlin had used her familiar name openly, but now was no time to call his attention to it and break his focus. She responded, <<Ready, Sir,>> business as usual.
-
Esarvit pulls himself into the maintenance chamber, again letting the Hork-Bajir instincts carry him through the initial uneasiness. Is this really the best Andalite designers can do? Letting our enemies be better able to get around than us?
Grunting, he installs the breacher once he's made sure Aurellia has followed from behind. He steps out of the way, towards the back wall, before the ceiling gives way. Then he reaches for the ensuing ceiling, which takes him a few tries to build up enough momentum to pull through.
Once within the computer chamber, he immediately punches at his ARC without waiting for Aurellia--he doesn't want to let her see his shame at how long it took. Hopefully she can't tell from inside this Hork-Bajir face...
<<We're inside,>> he brusquely informs Ossanlin. <<Time still all right?>>
-
Ossanlin nods to himself and responds to Esarvit's communication. <<Good, yes. Get started on retrieving that data and uploading the virus. Let me know once you're done.>> He uses his wrist-panel functionality to see the same thing Esarvit's holo-emitter sees and notes that he is indeed in position. He nods again, steeling himself.
<<Enorryma, I'm going to pull the hatch. Get in fast and quiet and I'll follow. Once we both have beads on our targets, we'll fire simultaneously.>> He pulls the small release lever and the hatch hisses quietly as it opens. The ambient noise of the Singularity chamber would deafen anyone inside to the slight disturbance.
The hum of large amounts of energy and electricity are now audible at the top-side of the hatch. <<You're up, Vanarx.>>
~
Aurellia lifts herself into the computer core-room behind Esarvit and shoulders her ARC, taking up a position near Esarvit. She keeps her eyes on the surroundings. The room was indeed clear, but she watches the door just in case.
~
Ehvrin nods to Claxter. <<Yes, sir...I know.>> He watches as Claxter installs the floor-breacher. <<I just...>> He falls silent, voicing nothing further as he returns his eyes to watching the deserted corridors.
-
<<You just what? You're nervous? If so, I can assure you that you're not the only one. We just have to hold our positions, and hope everything goes well on their end.>> Claxter wondered what would happen if the others got captured. Would they just be killed, or would Claxter and Ehvrin need to rescue them and the rebels too? Would that even be possible? <<You can feel free to talk while we wait. I don't mind.>>
-
Esarvit plugs in the ARC. First step, downloading data...the easiest approach so far as he knew had been to modify his own clearance settings to allow him to do this anonymously. He feels intuitively that if he had been younger and more familiar with the technology, he could have probably found a more straightforward way to get at the data, but no choice there. He does know a lot about computer science! In theory.
<<Almost there,>> he tells Aurellia as he waits to move into the virus uploading mode. He's not sure whether she's really the one who needs convincing.
-
Enorryma tucked her sidearm away and descended quickly down the hatch, finding herself uncharacteristicall y pleased by this morph in one particular way: this climbing motion was as easy as breathing, and the Hork-Bajir's hands and talons made no noise on the way down.
She lowered herself until she could place her feet on the floor below with complete silence, and then she did a rapid visual scan of the area, <<Clear, Sir,>> before stepping clear of the hatch so Ossanlin could follow. She took out her ASAR and carefully, quietly dialed in the aim on her target, waiting patiently for Ossanlin to catch up and do the same for his target.
Everything up to this point had been business as usual, but she stayed alert.
So far, so good.
-
Ossanlin descends behind Enorryma and places his feet as silently as she had. He surveys the layout and notes both technicians and the security guard. The first tech and security guard are at their appointed stations, but the second tech is partially obscured around the singularity chamber. <<We'll have to move quickly...>>
He draws his aim on the security guard who is walking away from their position across the catwalk. <<Ready...three...two ...one...Fire!>> Ossanlin squeezes the trigger on his weapon and watches as the security guard crumples on the walkway. He quickly moves to draw a bead on the second tech, but the singularity chamber is in the way.
-
Enorryma fired on the first tech, who crumpled to the ground at the same moment as Ossanlin's target.
Norry turned toward the other tech, mentally scowling. <<We will have to move to get a clear shot. The only part of him in view is his shoulder, and that's not enough to successfully stun him.>>
-
<<Go!>> Ossanlin breaks left along the wall "balcony", his ASAR shouldered...the being needed to drop before he figured out what was happening. He sprints along the walkway as the tech starts to look around and views his fallen compatriot. Ossanlin draws a bead on his exposed shoulder and pulls the trigger three times. The first two bolts miss, but the third catches the tech in the shoulder, momentarily dazing him. <<Norry, he's dazed. He staggered out of my line of fire. Take him down before he recovers.>> His tone of thought is calm, his demeanor icy and stoic.
Some people lost their head in the frenzy of battle...and then lost their lives or worse, the lives of those they commanded. Calm rationality, logic, and steadfastness were keys to Ossanlin's battle prowess. Precision and forethought... Oh he experienced anxiety before battle, though it was always kept on a tight rein and never displayed. But once the action began...all of it melted away. Emotions, fear, anxiety, anger, aggression...none of it had a place in battle, and in battle, Ossanlin allows emotion no berths within himself.
-
Norry moved quickly, her ASAR raised, as she stepped around the side of the singularity housing. Her target leaned weakly against a wall, and she sighted down the ASAR and fired, dropping him in the time it took for him to blearily glance up at her. He slumped to the floor.
<<Got him. Where next, sir?>>
The job was just now beginning to show signs of an omnipresent force Norry called 'Mission Entropy'. Tiny details were beginning to stack up and act against them, costing them seconds and putting them at risk of panicking and rushing things. Left in this state, problems would begin to spiral and compound on each other.
If anybody could keep the mission entropy in check, it was Ossanlin, but Norry had to silently admit to herself that she didn't entirely trust the rest of the team not to bung this up.
-
<<Good work, Enorryma. There are two master couplings installed with breaker switches down on the bottom level.>> He makes his way to the ramp on one side of the room and jogs down to the bottom floor. He works his way over to the first lever. <<They have to be pulled simultaneously. Each one is secured by the keypad next to it.>>
He uses his wrist-panel to cause Norry's emitter matrix to show the proper key sequence to unlock the other lever. <<Take up position by the other lever, but don't enter the key-sequence yet. Now we wait for Esarvit's communication. The virus has to be at full proliferation before we cut the power. Once we enter the key-sequences, we'll have ten seconds to disarm the couplings.>>
~
Ehvrin shakes his head. <<It just seems odd, backwards...fightin g our own kind. I mean, I don't agree with the unprovoked atrocity that the Electorate perpetrated, but won't the loss of the Tyrennian hurt the People?>>
-
Enorryma put her ASAR away and moved where she was directed. She watched Ossanlin, waiting. She missed her own hands quite a bit, and she hoped the Hork-Bajir's clawed hand would be articulate enough to use this device.
-
<<It certainly didn't enter my mind when I joined the war that I'd be fighting Andalites to help Yeerks. Both species can vary wildly in personalities and goals, even though our leaders tell us the Yeerks are of only one mind. Their leaders tell them something similar. I'm quite certain the loss of Ossanlin and his crew will hurt our people's chances of winning this war, but how we win is probably more important than the winning itsself.>>
<<Honestly I don't know what we'll do, even if we recsue the rebels. Try to restart it? Become rebels ourselves?>>
-
When the data finally finishes downloading, Esarvit pauses a moment to make sure the first few screens'-worth have loaded without any errors. Seeing that it looks good, he goes ahead and uploads the virus. This part is much easier...The nice thing about breaking into Andalite computers is that the people who are supposed to be securing these ports are hardly any younger than me. They would have been completely helpless towards a more net-oriented user...we could maybe even have done this remotely.
He quickly unplugs his ARC just before the data begins to corrupt, and the pixels start blipping across the screen. <<Virus uploaded!>> he sends, not bothering to mask his pride.
-
Ossanlin addresses Esarvit through the ARC. <<Good, Esarvit. Be ready to disarm the battery backup couplings>>
He glances at Enorryma. <<Enter the key-sequence now, Enorryma.>>
Ossanlin keys his sequence in and a chime starts, ticking each second. He grabs the handle and heaves it upward, twists it one-quarter clockwise, heaves upward a second time, twists it another one-quarter clockwise, and pulls the handle up a final time, as Ennoryma should be doing on her side of the chamber.
A klaxon begins to sound on each level of the facility as the flow of energy is cut off. All around the complex, true-light turns into the dim yellow of hazard lighting. The host cells' holograms would be deactivating along with any other systems deemed to be non-essential. The hosts would probably be able to hear the almost-melodious klaxon from within their cells as well without the holo-sound.
<<Esarvit, Aurellia, disarm the backup battery couplings now.>> Once they cut those backups, the computer would completely lock-down, and the effects of Esarvit's virus would become a tad more permanent. Of course, the loss of power also means that their time undetected inside the facility is at an end.
~
Aurellia moves to one of the battery back ups and flips the protective cover open. She pulls the connection lever and watches the power readings drop. She glances at Esarvit. <<Only one left, sir.>>
~
Ehvrin nods. <<Yes, sir. Prince Raigar always said the ends don't justify the means, and I see the truth of it. But...I keep thinking about the Homeworld. It bothers me to think that I might never see that shade of rosy orange-red again.>>
He suddenly falls silent as the lighting in the ramp-well changes from true white to dim yellow and melodious klaxons begin echoing throughout the facility.
-
The hologram goes out.
It takes Chris a few beats to realize that anything has changed. He has not moved in so many hours, has not stopped his ceaseless staring at the stupid fake trees -- staring to the point where he does not see them anymore. So when they disappear he almost does not notice, he has fallen so deeply into his frustrated anger and anxiety.
When the change in his surroundings finally registers he blinks slowly, wondering if perhaps he had fallen asleep, or was hallucinating. Cautiously, he reaches out and touches the now-blank wall, only dimly lit with a cold wash of blue light. Somewhere in the distance he can hear a gentle humming.
As soon as he is satisfied that the wall is real a rush of adrenaline hits him, and he scrambles to his feet, spinning around to look for any inconsistencies that might allow him escape. There is something oppressive about the blankness of it, and his stomach twists as he runs his hands along the seams. At least with the hologram, he could pretend his cell was larger. Now there is no denying the small room he has been shoved in.
What sort of game is this? he wonders, one hand dropping to grab for a Dracon that isn't there. Haven't we endured enough already? A surge of anger running through him he backs up, eying the wall that has, most often, melted into a doorway. Chris isn't a huge person, but he is fairly well built, with strong, broad shoulders. Certainly no match for an Andalite tail blade, especially weaponless, but he has the element of surprise. If the damn Andalites enter, he tells himself firmly, rush them. Just get the hell out.
If it meant taking a potentially deadly hit, so what? He had already lost everything, their names an endless litany in his mind that he had been going over for hours upon hours upon hours. Maybe, if any of them had survived, this would be his only chance at finding them.
Surely the Andalites wouldn't shut off the hologram if it didn't mean something. Surely they would come for him, for whatever twisted reasons they might have.
Or maybe they were just ****ing with him.
Regardless, he crouches down low and prepares to run.
-
Claxter had been trying not to think of being barred from his homeworld. <<There's always the dome.>> He said, referring to the Terynnian's dome that housed plants and water. <<I suppose we can't really contact our homeworld families without giving away the fact that we're still alive. It would be nice if life's choices were always easy, but that's not realistic.>>
He noticed the change in lighting as he spoke. <<It's started. I believe we're just supposed to hold our position until we receive orders.>>
-
With her eyes closed and head down forehead resting against her knees as she sits against the wall, Tess cannot tell an immediate change in the status of her cell. The only difference is a vague sensation that the room just got brighter.
Sniffing and rubbing her eyes, she raises her head and looks around. What she sees--or rather what she doesn't see makes her mouth fall open in shock: the hologram is gone, replaced with empty blankness.
"What...?" she whispers, her voice hoarse.
Putting her palms flat on the floor, she lifts herself to her feet with a heavy panting exhale, her hands going straight to her swollen belly as soon as she is standing. Tess's dark eyes track the four walls of the room, not remembering which one of them holds the door, not knowing where to expect any further changes to come from.
Oh god, Chris, I wish you were here right now, she thinks desperately, a hand trailing up from her stomach to her messy hot pink hair, shoving it behind her ears to clear her vision.
-
<<Well done,>> Esarvit says. <<Want to go ahead and take the next one yourself?>>
He isn't very close to Aurellia, but maybe that's the way these things should be. Either she's kept her head down or his has been up in the galactic dust clouds (again). At least she doesn't have some frilly nickname.
-
Enorryma followed the sequence to cut the facility's power, and she found herself absently wondering why a place of this size would even have such a sequence available in its manual operations settings. Surely technicians could find another way to do maintenance and to obtain emergency power, without completely crippling the place...? She herself had done so countless times on much smaller ships and vehicles, without decommissioning her ships in the process. It seemed such a catastrophic flaw for a place of this size.
She shrugged off the thought and refocused on the mission, finding that she rather relished the sound of klaxons and the eerie burning-sodium gold of the hazard lamps. They always meant a fine thrill was approaching.
<<What next, Sir?>>
-
Aurellia arches an eye and gallops across the room to the other backup breaker. She flips up the protective cover and disarms it. She contacts Ossanlin on her ARC. <<Sir, the computer is locked down.>>
~
Ossanlin nods at Norry. <<Good work. Now we return to the service levels and make our way to the western ramp-well. Our next purpose is to gather host supplements and the hosts themselves.>>
Ossanlin re-opens the communication with Aurellia and Esarvit. <<Good work. Begin phase two. Both of you descend to the Maintenance room on level negative one again.>> He makes his way back up the ramp around the singularity chamber to the hatch Norry and he had entered by. <<Exit into the southern hallway of level negative one and proceed east to the Yeerk supplies room. Use your compression packs and take as many portable kandrona generators as you can carry. And don't forget to take some of the mineral supplement to add to the water as well. Once you've done that, head to the eastern ramp-well and make your way back down to the maintenance level. If Claxter and Ehvrin aren't waiting for you, you wait for them. Once all four of you have returned, activate the restriction field at the bottom of the ramp and rendezvous with Ennoryma and I at the first floor-breacher. We will have the hosts with us. Take out anyone that gets in the way.>>
Ossanlin climbs out of the hatch and glances around to make sure it's clear, then opens the communication channel with Claxter and Ehvrin. <<Begin phase two. Both of you head up the ramp-well now to level zero.>> He shoulders his ASAR and heads down the west hallway toward the ramp-well. <<There shouldn't be anyone in the halls, but take out anyone in the way. Don't hesitate. Once you reach level zero, enter the weapons/effects storage room. All of the lockers should be open thanks to Esarvit's virus. Each locker should be dated. Use your compression packs to take everything that's dated on or after the date of the rebellion's defeat. Once you have the weapons and personal effects in hand, head back to the eastern ramp-well and descend again to the maintenance levels. If Esarvit and Aurellia are not waiting for you, you must wait for them. Once all four of you have reunited, activate the restriction field at the bottom of the ramp and rendezvous with Enorryma and I at the first floor-breacher. We will have the hosts with us.>>
He ends the communication and reaches the entrance to the ramp-well, looking behind himself for Norry.
~
Aurellia nods at the communicator as Ossanlin speaks. <<Yes, sir.>> She moves to the hole Esarvit had cut into the floor and descends into the maintenance room again. She keys open the maintenance room hatch and peaks her head out, looking down both corridors. With not a soul in sight, she exits the room, ASAR shouldered. Semi-panicked, confused thought-speech voices can be heard, mainly from the direction of the Yeerk cells, and even from above, but all seem to be locked at their respective stations.
This area looks very different from the maintenance level. It's all sleek white-and-silver polish. The yellow glow from the hazard lighting leaves some uncomfortably-deep shadows. There would've been holograms in the hallway as well, were it not for the power being cut. She makes her way quickly down the hallway to the long Yeerk storage room and keys the room open. Stacks of durathane crates are meticulously ordered around the room. She moves to one and cracks it open, displaying several stasis-fields all occupied by portable kandrona generators. She removes both compression packs from her back-pack and begins filling one with the small, metallic cylinders.
~
Ehvrin nods at his Prince's communication and glances at Claxter again before moving out into the ramp-well carefully. He starts to move up and passes level negative one without incident. Thought-speech voices can be heard all around, but none seem to be actually in the corridors. He makes his way up to level zero and yowls in pain as a blue bolt of energy sears through his left shoulder. He fires multiple times into the corridor and retreats down the ramp. <<Sir, I've been hit.>> He calls to Claxter.
-
Tara stretches her legs out in front of her, wincing as she stretches her back.
"Huh," she says aloud, her voice hoarse and dull and flat sounding, echoing in the little metallic room.
The holographic screen was gone. The chirping birds were gone.
She rolls dry eyes toward the wall through which the Andalites had been communicating with her.
Nothing.
Slowly, with a small whimper, she pulls herself to her feet. Her knees pop and she steadies herself against the cold metal wall, pressing her hands flat against it.
Nothing.
"Hello?" she calls, voice cracking. She pounds on the wall with numb fists. "Anyone!" She coughs and winces again, then pounds her fists against the wall again. "What the ****!"
-
Norry stayed close to Ossanlin, noting that he checked for her to stay with him. <<Right behind you, Sir.>> Same as always.
The facility was full of not-so-distant noises, people running, humans shouting in panic, confusion, anger... the Hork-Bajir's night vision was horrible, but it still detected movement fairly well, and Enorryma had no difficulty staying abreast of Ossanlin. She was glad that they would be working primarily with the hosts right now, and not with their parasites.
-
Ossanlin makes his way into the ramp-well cautiously. Thought-speech echoes throughout the facility...many voices sounding either concerned or angry. The loss of computer functionality coupled with the loss of primary power would be too much of a coincidence...they must assume they're under attack now.
He motions Norry to follow him as he makes his way up past the sealed screen on level negative one. No one had to use the western well to access Negative One, so Ossanlin had asked Esarvit to seal it off. The only accesses to the west ramp-well that aren't sealed are those to Maintenance and level Zero. He makes his way to the access for level Zero and ducks as hoof-beats echo down the corridor in the other direction. <There's one here!> a voice shouts from quite some distance away. Ossanlin winces...someone had spotted Ehvrin and Claxter...he opens a communication to Claxter and Ehvrin. <<You have at least two heading your way.>> He closes the communication. Normally he would draw fire away from the others, but the fact that they're taking attention away from the host cells is very good indeed. He has faith in both Claxter and Ehvrin that they will take care of them. A beam-fight while saddled with a bunch of unarmed hosts is the last thing he wants.
His claws click a bit on the hard floor as Ossanlin makes his way onto level Zero. He can hear 'Tsaaps' echoing from the other side of the building, but things around the host cells appear to be silent. He once again signals Norry to follow as he enters the cell-block. <<Keep a close watch, Norry...this is going to be delicate. We can't allow them to give away our disguises...I need to check...>> He falls silent as he looks at the "guest" identification numbers displayed over each cell. The numbers all start with the date of "rescue."
Ossanlin walks to each cell with the correct date and commands the walls to change to one-way view...he'd be able to see the occupants without the occupants seeing him. He doesn't recognize any of them at first, though he does note that there isn't a single Hork-Bajir host...not amongst the rebel hosts anyway. They're all human. It had been a foolish hope to see the one face he'd been hoping for. Of course Myitt was crafty...perhaps she'd escaped altogether. His eyes widen a bit as he recognizes Terenia through the one-way viewer on her cell, and he takes a step back from the next cell when he sees Joanne. How in the Homeworld had she gotten caught up in this?
He comes to the final stack of cells, only one Rebel host here. The last one. He changes the cell to one-way view...and his heart leaps into his throat. She's here! She's alive! In his distraction, he doesn't see the Andalite guard drawing a bead on him through a crossing corridor...
-
~Story Narration~
The night droned on incessantly as Warrior Nirdran-Facil-Kerorat tried to keep his mind occupied. He was the lucky one who got to command the facility while the Princes all got their beauty rest.
He'd been excited about this post at first...some top-secret assignment that he'd had to accept without knowing any of the details...just that he'd be performing a great service to the People. As if. Shuttled off to this Sky-forsaken moon and completely removed from the war, he almost begged for an attack on the facility. Something different...but of course no attack ever came. This facility was a secret even from the People. At least there had been a shipload of new prisoners over the last couple of weeks. It was something at least. Oh the scientists were all excited about new subjects and whatnot. There had been some solar reflex radiation a little bit ago, but that was nothing to get excited about either...all Nirdran ever got was boredom and frustration.
The other two techs that were on-duty with him, Ferlin and Shrudel, looked equally as bored. Oh technically Nirdran was in command of the facility overnight, but that really didn't mean anything, especially since it would never be listed on his permanent record, or any record for that matter. He began to pace the room in silence...it was all he could do to keep himself from going insane. The small blip that echoed from Ferlin's console roused his attention, and he trotted over. <What is it?>
<Not sure, sir...it says there's been some sort of unscheduled port-access to the central mainframe.> Ferlin furrowed his brow. <Gerik said the computer sensors had been acting up, but he never mentioned anything like this.>
<Has the mainframe hatch been opened recently?>
<No, sir. It's still sealed.>
<Then don't worry about it. I'm sure it's nothing. At least it took a few minutes out of our boredo...> Nirdran fell silent as he heard the hazard clamps lock shot around all the access hatches to Operations. <What...?>
<Sir,> Shrudel spoke up, <I don't understand, the hazard locks have engaged...everythin g else...> It was Shrudel's turn to fall silent as the primary lighting disengaged and was replaced by the yellow-orange of the hazard lighting. Alarm klaxons began to sound in the room.
<What is this?!> Nirdran ran to one of the unmanned consoles and tried to access it. <This console is non-responsive!>
<I've lost control of mine as well, sir.> Ferlin was tapping touch-buttons on his console impotently.
One glance at Shrudel, and Nirdran knew his console was experiencing the same issue. <We've lost primary power...and the computer is non-responsive...> Nirdran's eyes widened in surprise and understanding. <We're under attack! We must be under attack!> He accessed his personal comm. <Security...report to the Central Mainframe chamber, this is not a drill. Dispatch a second team to the singularity chamber, and a third to Ops. I repeat, this is not a drill.>
Nirdran heard only silence after his communication. <Security, respond!>
After a brief silence, the response finally came back. <Um..sir...the armory has been locked down, we're unable to open the doors. The hazard clamps are engaged and the computer won't respond...>
Shortly thereafter, the place erupted with open thought-speech. The klaxons had begun to wake people up...all the doors, even the dormitories, must be locked down. Nirdran dialed up the facility-wide con. <Corvus Facility, this is acting commander Nirdran-Facil-Kerorat. We have reason to believe that we are under attack. We have lost computer functionality and all hazard clamps are engaged. I am invoking primary protocol! Anyone who avoided the lock-down, please be vigilant. Shoot any non-Andalite on sight. All personnel are cleared to use destructive force to navigate the facility. This is not a drill. I repeat...this is NOT a drill.>
Nirdran closed the con and shook his head. <We need to get back into the computer. Keep working on it...>
~End Narration~
-
Tess jumps, startled by the abrupt intrusion of the acting commander's thought-speech message. She turns her head up, as if to look for the source of the inaudible sound, fear and hope simultaneously filling her.
Shoot any non-Andalite on sight. The words echo menacingly in her mind even after the announcement has ended. Her hand comes down from her hair and curls into a fist. "No one is hurting these babies," she whispers forcefully, eyes narrowing as she stares at the blank wall ahead of her.
-
Claxter followed Ehvrin up the ramp until he heard shots and saw he'd been hit. He heard fast hoof beats towards them, and Ossanlin said there were at least two heading their way. He positioned himself in front of Ehvrin and drew his weapon. Should he try to just jump out when the Andalite came close, or would he expect it? Even if he surprised the first, the second might shoot him anyway. <<They only saw one of us. If I can lead them in another direction, you can shoot them from behind.>> He said, while firing some shots around the corner to slow the enemy down. <<Let's go back to a point where you can enter a side room. As they advance past where you are, you can shoot them from behind.>>
Hopefully if they did this, the Andalites wouldn't be looking behind themselves with their stalk eyes.
-
Esarvit follows after Aurellia, taking out his own compression packs and starting to load them up. <<How much space should I leave for the mineral supplement?>> he asks. <<Or are you packing that?>>
He packs in a rush, but takes time to glance at the doorway from time to time. No sign of movement, yet, but really, stalk eyes were quite excellent adaptations for times such as those...and here I am, loading up a bunch of slug food.
-
Enorryma followed Ossanlin closely, scanning the area around them periodically. She missed her stalk-eyes desperately, and Ossanlin was far too focused on what he was doing to help keep a watch for hazards.
Norry felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, and she wondered absently what it could mean.
Then she recalled something she had read once about morphs with binocular vision, with an evolutionary history as prey animals. Their senses adapt warnings to the presence of predators and observers. This feeling meant she was being watched, and at some level, the Hork-Bajir was detecting it.
She wheeled around just in time to see the Andalite lining up his shot on Ossanlin.
<NO.> She shouted, forgetting to keep her thought-speech private, and drew her sidearm as fast as she could, firing it as she raised her hand. The shot would, at best, land low on the Andalite's body- certainly destroying his aim and crumpling him, but truly incapacitating? Probably not.
Norry fired again in the general direction of where the enemy would have landed, but she couldn't be sure, in the low light and with such poor vision. She turned toward Ossanlin.
<<Sir, are you hit?!>>
-
Ossanlin hears Norry's thought-speech and looks at her right as she fires in his direction. He plasters himself against the cell-wall and looks in the other direction as her shot intercepts an Andalite. The Andalite's Shredder blast sears past as his aim is interrupted. Ossanlin quickly raises his own ASAR and shoots several times at the falling Andalite. The Andalite is unconscious before his body hits the floor. He looks back at Norry and raises his eyebrows. <<Thank you...How many do I owe you now? I've lost count.>>
He takes a few deep breaths and looks around the cell-block more-carefully. It would seem that this Andalite had been alone. He nods and turns back to the cell in question. There's no time to waste on relief. He sends a private thought into the cell. <<Tara, Don't give indications that you know me. Please don't react as if you can hear my thought-speech. It's Ossanlin...I'm here to get you all out of here. The only other rebel I recognize in these cells is Terenia...and...Joa nne...I need you to convince them all to come with us without knowing who we are...we have all morphed Hork-Bajir so that we won't be recognized. Above all, our identities must remain secret.>>
He taps the key-sequence to open the door, and the cell separates and slides open. "We're getting you out of here." He speaks in Gallard.
-
The sudden thought-speech intrusion, makes Chris look up in alarm, his ferocious focus on the door temporarily waning as the message sinks into his mind. Under attack. That could mean any number of things. The most likely prospect, given how crippled their rebellion had become, was Imperials. That thought froze Chris down to the bone; he could not imagine being shipped off to an Imperial ship, handed out to some loyal Yeerk. All those years of fighting washed away, just like that. Back where he started, just a little older and with a few more deaths on his shoulders.
"**** that," he whispers under his breath. He was going to go down swinging to his last breath.
-
Tara glares up at the ceiling, hands balling into fists.
She bounces on trembling legs. "Under attack," she tells herself, nodding. "****ing hell. At least we can go down with some action."
In spite of her bravado her words echo hollow and flat in the little cell, and she stops bouncing, dread gripping her heart. She swallows, closing her eyes and steeling herself.
And then Ossanlin's voice fills her mind.
She peers at the wall, nodding once at his unspoken instructions, her mouth slightly agape. Belatedly she remembers to breathe.
Myitt, she silently tells her absent friend. All those years of pretending to be me. Come on. Give me some of that. Right now.
When the wall melts open, Tara rushes into the hallway, shoving herself into the nearest Hork-Bajir with her fists raised.
"Let me the **** out of here, you crazy mother****ers!" she screeches in English, swinging at the Hork-Bajir's leathery chest.
-
Ossanlin is caught by surprise in truth...he hadn't expected Tara to come out fighting.. He grabs one of her arms as gently as he can muster, grunting as the other catches him in the abdomen several times. Still using Gallard, he speaks again. "Settle down. We're here to get you out. I don't want to carry you, or anyone else for that matter."
~
Aurellia nods to Esarvit as he picks up his compression pack that she'd been carrying for him. <<I've nearly filled my pack with kandrona generators, sir. Both of us should probably grab some of the supplement.>> She goes to another stack of durathane crates and cracks one open, revealing small 5kg packs of mineral supplement. She squeezes as many into her compression pack as she can fit, and then activates the pack, which automatically folds the contents together in the most efficient way possible. She places the compression unit back into her own pack and waits for Esarvit to finish.
~
Ehvrin groans in pain, but shakes his head, doing his best to ignore it. He pulls an injector from his medpack and administers a dose of pain-killer to himself. <<Okay, sir...perhaps if I hide around the corner of the ramp-well on level negative-one, you can pull them straight into the corridor...Prince Ossanlin said all the non-essential rooms would be locked down.>>
-
Enorryma moved to the next cell she found. As soon as the human inside became visible, Norry said, sternly but clearly, "We are here to get you and the others out of this place."
She had enough presence of mind to belatedly holster her sidearm, holding her hands open in an admittedly ironic display of 'harmlessness'. It wasn't like any human here was equipped to fight an Hork-Bajir, but Norry did her best to appear less threatening, or at least not outright malevolent.
-
Esarvit fills up a few more layers of Kandrona generators, then places the supplement packs in manually--there was enough room left when the generators didn't fill up the cross-sectional area of the pack to fit it in without much extra room. Hauling that on his back, he treks towards the (still-open) door and begins proceeding towards the east ramp.
-
Tara flails for a few seconds, one arm pinned by Ossanlin's big Hork-Bajir fist.
"Let go of me, dammit!" she yells, sticking with English, even though she does understand the Galard. She grunts in her effort to escape, wondering distantly how good of an act she's putting on.
-
<<You're right about the doors. The ramp well will be best. Go get into position. I should be able to hold them off a little longer before moving down.>>
Claxter peeked around the corner, and for a split second saw that one Andalite was trying to advance slowly while the other had a solid bead on the corner. a shot lanced the tip of his horn off, and a steady stream of cover fire kept him from getting another look. He ducked down to the floor, and took a shot from there while the other shots went high. The shots stopped, but he wasn't sure if he actually hit the guy. The advancing andalit was being cautious, not wanting to get shot or sliced open.
-
"If I let you go, will you stop flailing around? This facility is on an environmentally-hostile moon...assuming you can even find your way out of the building alone. We're not going to hurt you." He waits a few more seconds before releasing Tara. "Now...help me with your friends...if we have to go through this foolishness with each one, this process will take far too long."
He moves to the next cell containing a rebel...a man he doesn't recognize. The individual looks primed to rush the door. He turns the cell's comm and speaks in Galard. "We're here to get you out of here. Relax your posture so that I may open the door." He glances again at Tara.
~
Aurellia watches as Esarvit finishes packing and follows him toward the eastern ramp-well. She comes up short, shouldering her weapon for a tense moment before relaxing it when her HUD shows a friendly Hork-Bajir. <<Ehvrin?>>
~
Ehvrin nods at Claxter and moves down the ramp. He glances cautiously into the hallway before striding out. His eyes widen when Esarvit and Aurellia come around the corner and he half raises his ASAR before realizing they're friendlies. He glances first at Esarvit and the Aurellia. <<Sir, Aurellia...stay back...Claxter is trying to lure hostiles into this hallway to be ambushed...>> His gaze runs over his compatriots' weapons. <<Oh, you can help...stay hidden against the wall!>>
<<Sir!>> He calls up the ramp-well to Claxter. <<If you can get them to follow you...Esarvit and Aurellia are here...they can help with the ambush!>>
-
When the door slides open with a soft hiss, Tess sucks in a gasping breath and spins towards the sound. Her eyes land immediately upon the morphed form of Enorryma, whose bladed body and visible Dracon prove enough to distract her from the fact that she is hearing audible speech for the first time in days.
She stares a few long moments before finally asking in a muted whisper, "Who are you?" She remains in her cell, as if rooted to the spot, afraid to approach if the most likely of scenarios proves to be the case: that the Andalites are being attacked by the Empire. Even a solitary cell is preferable to Imperial infestation.
-
It wasn't long before the andalites got close enough to the corner to just charge forward. Claxter whirled around and ran down the ramp. <<They're coming!>> He yelled as he ran while firing shots behind him. He was grateful that Hork-Bajir has somewhat long necks, and he could easily turn his just enough to look behind himself in his peripherals without his whole body needing to shift. He made it down, past Ehvrin's location, and ran towards the corner, but before he could make it around he took two shots in the back.
He fell to the ground, dropping his ASAR, and turning to face them. They stopped in front of him, and stopped shooting, apparently considering taking him alive.
-
The Galard, in an unrecognizable Hork-Bajir's voice, only confirms what Chris already suspected: Imperials. A vice seems to wrap around his stomach as he realizes that he is, most likely, facing his final fight. His blue eyes narrow at the closed door, hands balling into fists, ready to swing. Sorry, Tess, he thinks, swallowing back the lump of emotion.
"Out of here and straight to a ****ing Imperial pool," he says harshly in response. "I'm sure you'd love that, eh? I'd rather rot in an Andalite cell."
-
Norry steps back from the cell doorway, minimizing as much as possible the impression that Tess is cornered and unable to leave.
Who are we? Good question.
She felt instantly sympathetic to this unknown human, and the feeling was strange to her. She did not typically make room for the luxury of sympathy.
Enorryma kept her voice low and spoke quickly. "We are allies, and not captors. I will make no move to restrain you. I am going to keep moving down this hall, and the hatch will remain open for you to move freely. Follow or don't; it is your decision."
Norry waited a beat and then started moving up the hall, toward Ossanlin.
-
Tara wrenches her arm away as soon as Ossanlin lets go of it, glaring knives up at him for a moment before whirling to face the open cell doors.
She only catches sight and sound of Chris, and she stares, a mixture of elation and overwhelming grief pressing against her throat.
"Chris," she breathes, rushing forward toward the cell door, before realizing it is still barred closed by the transparent living metal wall. She stops short, pressing a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.
-
Ossanlin furrows his brow and gestures at Tara. "Female, convince this male that we are non-threatening."
In private thought directed at Tara... <<Tara...Joanne is here. Her number says she was intercepted on the same day that the Rebellion fell...should we take her with us? Indicate assent by nodding your head twice, disagreement with two shakes of your head...and please calm this one down...I don't want to hurt him.>>
~
Aurellia raises her eyebrows as a morphed Claxter runs past. She shoulders her ASAR, and as the first Andalite runs into the hallway, she fires. The shot misses the first Andalite, but clips the second on the front haunch. The Andalite pitches forward but struggles back to his hooves. She steps around the corner and begins firing her ASAR heavily at both Andalites.
~
Ehvrin switches his ASAR to SI mode and holds the trigger down, peppering the hall with stun shots. Both the Andalites are caught in the back several times. Ehvrin ceases fire as Aurellia does and sees Claxter's prone form on the hallway floor. <<Sir!!>> He runs past the bodies of the now-prone Andalites. Neither Andalite is exhibiting life-signs....too many stun-shots must have stopped their hearts.
He kneels at Claxter's prone form, two holes burnt into his CO's back. <<Sir...are you conscious?>> He looks back at Aurellia. <<Can we get him into that Maintenance Room? He has to demorph.>>
~
Aurellia's eyes widen. <<He can't demorph! Prince Ossanlin said...>>
~
<<I KNOW what Prince Ossanlin said...he couldn't have meant one of us to die instead of morph. Maybe there isn't any surveillance in that room...>>
He turns his attention back to Claxter. <<Sir...sir can you hear me?>>
-
<<F...fine. I'm...fine. Can't demorph. I don't think anything vital has been damaged. They probably wanted me aliv for interrogation or something.>> Claxter said as he struggled to get up. <<We have to get the stuff out of the lockers. Continue the mission. Thanks for the save, by the way.>> He managed to get to his feet, though his right arm that held the weapon wasn't moving. <<I hope that's all the Andalites we have to deal with. I'll demorph back on the ship.>> He limped towards the ramp, trying to look as much like he was fine as possible. <<Go on up and get started. I'll be right behind you.>>
-
Tara hesitates, still staring at the transparent wall.
She nods twice, closing her eyes for a couple of heartbeats before collecting herself.
"Chris," she says, lowering her hand. "I-It's okay, I think...I think they're going to help us." She gives Chris what she hopes is a meaningful look, although between the unshed tears making her eyes burn and the emotional turmoil she isn't quite sure how much of the underlying subtext will make it through. She suspects Chris can't even see her.
Tara sniffles loudly. "****," she squeaks.
-
Tess's dark eyes widen even further at the morphed Andalite's words, and her jaw works without sound, unable to get a word out before Enorryma is gone, having swept down the hallway and out of sight.
She reaches for the doorframe and cautiously steps through, her eyes looking right and then left. All up and down the corridor are cells containing humans. Her friends, all of them known to her. "Oh my god," she whispers, eyes filling with tears--of gratitude that she is not the only survivor, and of fear at what is happening, and who might not be here among the living.
When her gaze follows the Hork-Bajir who had freed her, it roams over half a dozen more familiar, confused faces before landing on the shaggy blond-haired man still entrapped. "Chris," she gasps, and the tears spill over, streaking down her cheeks. She stands, almost dumbfounded, in the hallway, a hand on her stomach, the other still on the doorframe, eyes taking in Chris's every moment, stunned with overwhelming relief.
It takes her several seconds to realize Tara is already freed, standing in the hallway like her with another Hork-Bajir, and she begins making her way towards them as quickly as she can.
-
"Myitt?" Tara's voice filling the cell immediately gives Chris pause. Not Myitt, he realizes almost immediately. If Keslin was forced out surely so was she. But Tara...if she was alive, surely that meant there were more. Even if this was an Imperial attack, they wouldn't have had time to reinfest anyone.
His throat works as he tries to force himself to calm down. "Okay!" he says, raising his voice, even though the intercom can pick it up perfectly well. "I won't attack. Just let me out of here." To prove his point he unballs his hands from their fists and raises them, palms forward. Even now, though, he is on edge, waiting for any sign of a trap, any excuse to fight his way out.
-
Esarvit charges up behind Aurellia and Ehrvin, a few moments too late to help out with the battle. <<If you can't demorph, that's a bit more of an urgent priority,>> he says snippily.
-
Ossanlin nods and keys the sequence to open the cell. "All of you, stay together."
He trots over to Joanne's cell and hesitates a moment. Tara had said yes...her word was good enough for him. He keys the sequence to open Joanne's cell and watches her warily for a moment. He walks over to another cell, this one containing a human of some type of ethnicity. He keys the sequence to open the door. He continues down the cells until all of them are open, and tries to herd them all into a group. "We do not have weapons for you...so keep together. These Andalites will shoot anything that isn't an Andalite at this point. I won't chase you if you run off, because I know what fate you'll suffer. I leave that decision in your hands."
~
Ehvrin sighs. <<Yes..yes of course, sir.>> He switches his ASAR back to standard. He continues up the ramp, but keeps pace with Claxter. They were supposed to stay together after all. Once they finally attain level zero, he heads into the weapons lab and immediately sees the lockers. He takes the compression packs out and hands one to Claxter before continuing over to the wall of lockers. Each was open but still showed the dates of acquisition. He immediately begins filling his compression pack with weapons and personal effects...mostly standard handheld Dracons.
~
Aurellia nods at Esarvit in agreement and descends the eastern ramp-well to the maintenance levels. She applies the repressor emitter to the inside edge of the doorway and backs up to wait for Claxter and Ehvrin to finish their portion of the mission.
-
"Chris!" Tess calls out to him as loudly as she dares, trying to keep her voice hushed, but relief and desperation are flooding her as she tries to reach him. Perhaps foolishly, reaching him is the most important item on her agenda in this moment.
She keeps one hand on her swollen stomach to shield it from the sudden throng of friends and then abruptly finds herself windmilling the other as she nearly loses her balance when another prisoner is freed from the cell right beside her. Her upper arm is snagged by the person who had just stepped into the hallway: a rather short man with brown hair and eyes, and most notably a living metal left arm. "Daniel," she whispers in instant recognition, nodding her thanks for catching her, but his gaze is already searching the crowd for someone else.
-
When the cell door slides open Chris tenses up again. But he can see that the Hork-Bajir in question has moved on and, more importantly, he can see Tara, alive and seemingly unharmed. "Tara, are you--" he stops mid-question as he steps from the cell, his words interrupted by the sound of his name. Turning, he spots Tess. "Oh," he whispers, one hand going to his mouth. He abandons Tara, rushing to Tess' side, throwing his arms around her best he can with her pregnant stomach in the way.
"Tess, oh god," he says. His hand automatically goes to her stomach, to his unborn children, his worried eyes, shining with unshed tears, watching her. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice cracking a little. Out of the corner of his eyes he vaguely registers familiar faces, all in various states of shock and dissaray, but his focus is entirely on Tess.
-
<<I guess that noise I heard earlier really was something.>> Claxter said as he emptied the stuff out of the locker into the bag. He started from the opposite side of Ehvrin, so they wouldn't get in each other's way, and eventually they got everything. He felt a bit safer with allies looking out for him. Still, he moved as quickly as possible. <<do we know how the others are doing?>>
-
Joanne's irritated, tired thoughts are abruptly interrupted by something unexpected. The hologram flips off. That infuriating, Andalite-tease hologram with all the hippy happy scenery. It's just....gone. Leaving her in a tiny black room with no Kess. For a moment Joanne simply stands there dumbfounded. Did he pull it off? Are the Andalites getting sick of being nice to them? Is there a power outage going on? Joanne experimentally kicks the wall hard.
"****!" Joanne cries out as the attempt bruises her foot. She hops up and down for a few moments in pain, rubbing her foot against the ground. "What the hell!" She has no idea why she thought that would work.
Joanne's foot throbs unpleasantly and she continues to pace the room, gritting her teeth. There had to be something she was missing here, and she didn't like it. Some kind of panicked Andalite thought-speak message goes over her head about the facility being under attack. Ah. So it was the attack option. Great. Kill any non-Andalites? So...Hork-Bajir and humans, probably. I mean, who else would it be but the Empire?
If it was the Empire, she had to wonder why they came here. There's no way they'd know what happened to the Peace Movement specifically, and why else would they attack? The facility was likely in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't good. She had no defenses. Her Dracons were gone. Kess was gone. .....god, Keshin was still gone....the empty spot in her mind nearly ached.
Every muscle in her body is tense. At some point, the cell....opens. Thank god. Joanne shoves her way past the Hork-Bajir that opened the door and into the hallway, suddenly surrounded by Empire troops speaking in Galard and....freed, unharmed rebels? Err. Unfortunate that without Keshin's help Joanne doesn't understand a word of Galard. She's picked up a coarse form of Yeerkish, but the trade language is over her head. Joanne glances around in utter confusion, warily holding her arms closer to her chest. The Empire goons are...definitely opening the cells and doing nothing to the rebels. The rebels are even contacting one another. One of them's Tara. Good she made it out.
"What." Joanne states flatly, staring at the nearest Hork-Bajir. Hm. Better try and rephrase that. She states in Yeerkish toward the nearest Hork-Bajir, "....what under Kandrona is this ****?"
-
Norry heard the irate voice to her left, and she turned toward Joanne and spoke quietly, hating the Yeerkish language and so keeping her phrasing short and simple.
"This is an escape. Follow or don't. Nobody will stop you." Enorryma gestured with one clawed hand in the direction they were moving, then proceeded to approach the knot of humans and morphed Andalites.
<<Sir, how many are left?>>
-
Ossanlin allows the rebels a few seconds to reunite and mingle. He turns back to Joanne, but despite being able to understand most spoken Yeerkish, he's far from fluent. "Follow. Not harm. Free." He speaks quiet Yeerkish in response to Joanne.
<<This is all of them, Enorryma.>> He doesn't allow the sadness welling up within him a place in his mind.
He turns to the group of milling rebel hosts and addresses them again in Galard. "Our next task involves your supplement. If you help, the process will go that much quicker. The sooner we collect enough of your supplement, the sooner your controllers will be freed."
Ossanlin moves to the small crossing corridor between the host cells and host supplement storage. He crosses quickly and steps into a room of durathane crates. Some contain Hork-Bajir nutritional supplements, the others contain human nutritional supplements. Little more than protein-based powders mixed with fiber-content...almost completely devoid of taste. He opens a couple of crates of human supplement while he waits for Norry to join him with the compression packs.
~
Ehvrin empties those lockers in front of him with the appropriate dates and activates his compression pack before stowing it away. <<I do not know, sir...I suppose we can assume Esarvit and Aurellia were successful in obtaining the necessary Yeerk supplies. Prince Ossanlin and TO Enorryma arguably have the most difficult task, however.>> He moves back into the hallway and toward the eastern ramp-well.
-
Norry carefully threaded her way through the humans, mindful of her own blades and the fact that her tail could easily swipe one of them if they moved too close in one of her blind spots. She drew up next to Ossanlin and activated her compression pack.
<<How much are these packs rated to carry? Surely we will not need the humans to carry any excess; that would slow us down considerably.>>
-
<<If each can carry one package of supplement, in addition to what we stow in the compression packs, it will help greatly, and it won't be a great burden. Ten kilograms isn't much stress. The compression packs can carry several.>> Ossanlin begins to fill his compression pack with human supplement while he waits for the hosts to join them.
-
<<Yes. Hopefully all the hosts are coming willingly. As long as they get done quickly, and we get get out, the other Andalites won't find their way to us in time.>> Claxter said as we went to the rendevous point and sat down. He dug around in his pack until he found the painkiller, and used it as the burns were really bothering him. He was glad his plan had worked, though he wished he had been a little faster. He should probably demorph, but was afraid to ask Ossanlin for fear of seeming weak. He didn't think he'd die from them before they returned to the ship, so he'd try to tough it out. When the painkillers kicked in he felt kind of drowsy. He leaned against the wall on his good side.
-
Enorryma worked quickly, appreciating the Hork-Bajir's very strong arms, which allowed her to move palettes of supplements at a time. As she filled the compression pack, she looked over her shoulder.
"Each of you carry a package. Almost finished here."
She didn't know how to say 'please' in Yeerkish, or if Yeerkish even had a word for please, but she tried not to be overtly commanding.
-
Overwhelmed, Tara smiles incredulously at Chris, touching his arm before he moves away to Tess.
Tess! Alive and teary-eyed and still hugely pregnant.
Niko, thin and haggard and olive-skinned, badly in need of a shave, his long black hair oily and disheveled. He blinks around in the sudden cacophony, bewildered, rubbing sweaty palms against his jeans and his dark black shirt. He, too, is looking for someone--or staring in confusion, it is hard to tell. In the end he moves toward the assembly line of people helping to pack up the human supplement packets.
Tara's heart leaps into her throat as her eyes lock with Daniel's. Wordless, she rushes to him and nearly tackles him in a sobbing embrace.
"Oh Jesus Christ, Daniel," she breathes against his neck, tears streaming down her face.
-
Tess nods to Chris tearfully, swallowing. One hand drifts down atop his, and she leans in to kiss him, the gesture brief and desperate. "Now I know you're okay, I am," she whispers to him.
Heart still hammering wildly, she takes a second to look away from him at the other survivors around them. Her eyes focus momentarily on Tara and Daniel, the latter of whom is as teary-eyed as his wife, his arms tightly around her, and his head lowering to whisper something Tess cannot manage to hear. If she could have read his lips, though, she would have known he was saying, "Tara, thank god you're alive."
But for as many joy-filled reunions as there are, there are just as many of her friends walking around, shellshocked, lost, without their dearest loved ones.
Tess sniffs and brings a hand up to wipe at her nose. "Let's... let's help them and get out of here so we can take stock," she whispers to Chris, her dark eyes returning to him, her forehead wrinkled in worry.
-
"You're alive," Tara repeats, brushing Daniel's cheeks with her thumbs, staring at her husband incredulously. "My god, you're alive, you crazy bastard."
She swallows, looking over her shoulder at the others. "We need to move. Um." She nods quickly. "Yeah. Right now."
-
Chris nods. "I have to find James," he says, keeping a tight hold on one of Tess' hands as he moves through the crowd. Something one of the Hork-Bajir says piques his interest.
"Our controllers?" Chris echoes. "Does he mean our Yeerks?" Sudden hope wrenches at his stomach. Keslin...
He continues searching for James, his eyes roving the crowd for the familiar red hair of his younger cousin. He sees several of his people, which relieves him. He makes note of Dom, looking around with a slightly stunned expression and none of his usual arrogance. His usually pristine suit is rumpled, the shirt untucked. He seems to be searching the throng as much as Chris is. He also sees Aya, who somehow looks more put-together than anyone else there, her scrutinizing gaze shifting from person to person, no doubt committing as much as possible to memory, as she'd been trained to do.
No red hair.
"Tara," Chris breathes, remembering her abruptly. Maybe she had seen him. Keeping hold of Tess' hand he pushes through the crowd, which the Hork-Bajir seem to be trying to move forward and organize in some way. When he finally reaches Tara she is busy embracing someone -- Daniel, he realizes after a moment, feeling a stab of relief for Tara's sake. Chris is reluctant to break up their reunion, but a sense of urgency pushes him forward and he puts a hand on her shoulder. "Tara, have you seen James?" he asks, feeling the panic beginning to return to his stomach.
The moment he asks the question a young woman with unwashed, unbrushed blonde hair rushes up to Tara, expression frantic. "Where's Mike?" she asks, sounding a little shrill. "Where the hell is he?"
"Terenia," Chris breathes, even though she wasn't addressing him. "I haven't seen him." He looks to Tara, awaiting a response.
-
Tara holds up her hands, stepping back from Daniel.
"I haven't seen Mike," she says miserably. "The last time I saw him was on base. I don't know where he is, or if he's alive."
Her eyes lift to Chris. "James, and...and Reven." She shakes her head, another quiet sob wracking her chest, backpedaling until her shoulder blades bump into Daniel's chest.
Niko nearly runs into Dom, his arms full of paper packets.
He drops them, gripping Dom's own arms with clammy hands.
"Have you seen him?" he asks desperately.
-
Tess watches Daniel's face as it gains a look of concern, first at Chris's question, and then especially at Terenia's. "Stay with us," he reaches out to Terenia with his right arm, the one that is not living metal. That one has snaked around Tara's stomach, keeping her close. His voice is calmer than any of the other humans' around them, and Tess wonders how he manages it.
"We'll find him," Tess whispers to Chris, tugging on his hand. "We have to get out of here, though. We have to help them. We can't wait any more."
-
Terenia doesn't look satisfied by Mike's response, or Daniel's request for her to stay. She looks about ready to bolt off and pose her question to anyone in earshot, but when Daniel grabs her she pauses. Her eyes water and she takes a few shuddery breaths, but in the end she nods, staying near Daniel.
Terenia forgotten, Chris watches Tara's expression, his heart thudding frantically in his chest and hand tightening around Tess'. "Oh, hell," he whispers, shaking his head. Abruptly he turns away, trying to push back the surge of emotion that is trying to fight its way out.
"Yeah...you're right," he says to Tess, his voice shaking as he blinks back tears. "Let's...let's help. He'll turn up. He has to turn up." He rubs angrily at his eyes with his free hand, then begins joining the queue to load up on protein packages.
A few feet away, Dom shakes his head, his face pale. "No, I--I haven't," he says in a lightly accented voice, licking his lips and stooping to help Niko pick up the packets he dropped. His hands are shaking.
-
"Good, now follow me. Carefully." He speaks to the hosts. "The longer we stay, the greater the chance for hostile Andalites to engage us. We will exit right, turn left at the wall, and follow the hallway around to a ramp-well. We will descend to the bottom of the ramp-well and regroup there." He says all in Galard.
<<Enorryma, I'll take point. Please carry up the rear-guard. This is one of the most sensitive portions of the mission. I pray that our luck will hold. Try to keep them from running off, but don't chase any if they do. We don't have the time to run after strays.>>
"Stay together. If anyone runs off...well, those who are silly enough to run off are on their own. Keep silent...if there are any guards out in the halls, we don't want to gain their attention." He activates his compression pack and stows it before peeking out the door into the north-south hallway. He moves out, ASAR holstered as he turns north and proceeds to the wall. Again, he checks the crossing hallway before proceeding into it and turning left. He keeps quiet as he proceeds to the corner and turns left again, heading all the way to the ramp-well. He descends to the Maintenance level and checks carefully again...still no guards. He steps out into the hallway and pulls the repressor emitter from his pack. He sets it up to cover the ramp-well ingress and waits for the hosts and Enorryma to funnel through.
~
Ehvrin finishes with his lockers and follows Claxter back down the ramp-well all the way to the Maintenance levels where Aurellia and Esarvit are waiting. <<We're clear.>> He follows Claxter to join him near the first floor-breacher. <<Sir...those guards that shot you...>> He glances at Claxter, <<...they're dead...I...we...tha t is, Aurellia and I...we killed them.>>
~
Aurellia nods to Claxter and Esarvit, respect plain even on her Hork-Bajir face as Claxter makes his way by. To have made it through those injuries without demorphing must've taken extreme mental fortitude. She arms the repressor field that shuts off the ramp-well's maintenance level access and continues after Claxter and Ehvrin. She takes up a station near the first floor-breacher, awaiting the arrival of her Prince and TO...and a bunch of hosts if things went according to plan.
-
Joanne watches the milieu of hosts waver past her, each going to pick up a protein package. She hears most of one of the Hork-Bajir's Yeerkish comments, too. Terse little bugger, ain't he? Probably doesn't how to say much of the language right in that body and has to work with what he's got. Joanne smirks lightly, following this one with her eyes as she follows the group along. This will not only irritate him, but it reminds her that not everyone in the group is as super-competent as Leader Guy seems to be. Some of the team are like her.
Although...his awkward phrasing doesn't exactly make figuring out what's happening easy. Why does this group want to free them, anyway? Maybe Leader Guy said something more, but he looks to be just giving instructions. Joanne then takes up part of the line dutifully. Like Hell she's going to disobey when there's even a small chance they're earnest about this.
Joanne looks toward Myitt reuniting tearfully with another fellow rebel, and the same happening across the ground. She paws with her foot at the ground slightly. .....depressing, this. Without Keshin, she didn't have anyone to go back to and hug. All her ties were cut long ago. It was worth giving them up to save her life, but this was a sad reminder of the loneliness her profession demands.
-
<<You only needed to shoot them once each.>> Claxter said. There was regret in his voice, but not anger. They probably just panicked in their effort to make sure he didn't die. <<what's done is done, I suppose. Maybe this is what the rebels feel like, fighting their own kind. Try not to feel too bad about it, but try not to forget that the opponents on the other side of conflict are people too. We're taught pretty early that Yeerks are unquestionably evil, but that's too extreme to actually be true.>>
<<I hope the others get here soon. I'm not exactly enjoying being vulnerable right now.>>
-
Esarvit follows, numbly.
That could have been me, and I'd have been none the wiser. No wonder we're hardly winning this war, if we can barely keep our own affairs in order to say nothing of when the Empire comes along--
Mechanically, he glances down at his ARC, double-checking the time spent in morph.
-
Enorryma activated and stowed her compression pack, and on second thought before leaving, she slung a large pack of Hork-Bajir supplement over a bladeless area of her shoulder.
We should have been bringing Hork-Bajir supplement, too. We're masquerading as Hork-Bajir Controllers. It is suspicious if we don't behave opportunistically toward something our 'hosts' would eat.
The food pack was wide enough to stay in place fairly well on its own, leaving her hands mostly free, so she kept one hand near her sidearm and stood against one of the near walls, waiting for the humans to go on ahead of her. She kept a lookout to the rear of the group.
-
As soon as Chris is as laden with nutrition packets as he can manage he turns to helping Tess. "Don't take too much," he warns, speaking lowly, glancing at her stomach. The last thing he wants is to put any more unnecessary strain on her. It's a miracle she hasn't gone into labor as it is. The past month or so on base had been a nerve-wracking touch-and-go, and Sam had warned them that with twins an early delivery was almost expected.
Don't think about that, Chris orders himself. Sam is nowhere to be seen and Chris is loathe to imagine what a Hork-Bajir Imperial might know about delivering a baby. The thought makes his stomach churn, and he finds himself holding onto Tess with renewed protectiveness as they begin to move down the hall, following the Hork-Bajir who seems to be in charge.
-
Following Chris's advice, she takes a lighter load than the other humans, unable to do any more than this in her condition. As they walk, she has her first chance to cast her thoughts beyond her frantic desperation to find Chris and her yearning that Keslin and the other Yeerks she holds dear will be rescued as well and reunited with their hosts--if they are even here.
For the first time, she begins analyzing the situation, wondering who these Hork-Bajir are. There had been no substantial answer from the one who had opened her cell, and they had been given nothing more than marching orders by the other.
Her first assumption is that they are Imperial troops--a thought that frightens her more now than it even would have before. As useful as she had been to the Empire when she had been the host of one of their Yeerks, a woman laden with two children would either be seen as a burden, herself, or worse, her babies would be relieved of her. The idea of it makes her grow stiff.
It is impossible to know what or who else these strange Hork-Bajir could be, and she does her best to herself with the internal mantra, Now that Chris is here, everything will be alright.
A few people ahead of Tess, Daniel looks equally troubled, his arms laden with nutrient packets and gaze darting protectively between Terenia and Tara. He keeps swallowing, and from the wrinkles lining his forehead, he appears to be deep in thought.
-
Niko takes some of the packets, watching Dom with a sinking sense of disappointment and fear. He nods, murmuring something that Tara cannot quite year, looking over his shoulder and following in line with the escaping hosts.
Tara's gaze drifts to a grudgingly familiar face. Joanne. Her eyes narrow in sudden suspicion, and she has to bite her tongue not to say something scathing to the bounty hunter. Tara had half a mind to think that Joanne might've had something to do with this unholy mess.
She slips a hand into Daniel's own, squeezing hard, desperate to find some answers. Briefly she looks up at Daniel, wishing she could reassure him that they were following friends and not walking toward capture.
In the rush to leave she hasn't even grabbed any supplements--far too concerned with escaping, and with the events of the last few days. The people who were missing, and the people she knew were lost. She is too overwhelmed, too sick with grief and anger to even think of her own needs.
Dazed, shocked and grieving, Niko and Tara make their way through the ramp-well ingress, Tara stopping only because she trusts that Ossanlin has stopped for a reason.
-
Ossanlin nods to Tara as she comes down the ramp-well. <<Thank you, Tara. There will be time to pay respects later...right now we need to escape. After everyone else comes through, we'll activate the repressor field here and go extricate the controllers. Claxter and Ehvrin should be waiting for you with weapons and personal effects at the rendezvous.>>
Ossanlin falls silent as he waits for the rest of the hosts.
-
Chris' gaze briefly meets Ossanlin's as he passes through the ingress. His eyes narrow a little at the Hork-Bajir, and he moves to make sure that he is bodily between him and Tess, pulling her through as quickly as possible, pulling to a stop behind Tara.
Terenia stays almost as close to Daniel as Tara, but her attention is being consistently diverted. She keeps craning her neck, turning to look every possible direction. She has not grabbed any nutrients either, seeming far too preoccupied to bother.
"He will turn up," the quiet voice of Dom whispers, drawing Chris' attention briefly. He is close enough to Niko to be speaking to the other man, but Chris has a feeling he is reassuring himself more than anything. Chris' grip on Tess' hand tightens.\
As the last few rebels sidle through the ingress a final human hurries into place. He is pale skinned and dark haired, and he is not carrying any supplies. Shoulders hunched, he glances at the Hork-Bajir, then hurries to follow the sad procession, keeping his head down.
-
Tara's gaze meet's Ossanlin's reptilian one, and she nods faintly, glancing over her shoulder at the others, her eyes wide and bloodshot.
"I hope you're right," Niko murmurs tremulously to Dom as he passes Tara along the ingress ramp. He doesn't understand much of Ossanlin's Galard instructions, but something tells him it would be wise to keep his voice down. "I...I lost Yarin, Dom." He stops a few feet from the others, his olive complexion pale. The typically well composed man has to juggle the nutrient packets in one arm, and he presses a hand to his mouth, sick with grief and worry.
It is impossible for Tara to avoid spotting the pale, dark-haired young man who slips into the room at the last minute. Her hands drop to her sides as she stares, slack-jawed.
"Mike?" she breathes, incredulous.
-
Ossanlin's eyes widen as Mike makes his way past the opening. He half raises his ASAR. Mike hadn't been in the cells. Mike wasn't here. The only explanation was that an Andalite had morphed him. But that didn't make any sense either...if Mike wasn't here, he'd never been here. When had any morph-capable being had any type of access to Mike?
Ossanlin's eyes widen even further. Ertoran had been the only Andalite he'd known about within the Rebellion...but last he'd heard, she'd been nothlitized. That left only one possibility...Efaen . He stares at Efaen's morphed form, but doesn't say anything...he can't afford the drama now. She'd have to be dealt with later.
He continues to wait for the rest of the rebels and Enorryma to pass through the ingress.
-
Enorryma stays half a pace behind the last of the rebels as the group moves forward. In the dim light, she can't see the changes in Ossanlin's expressions in reaction to each of the humans, and the snatches of conversation mean little or nothing to her, so she gives her whole focus to staying with the group and making sure nothing comes up behind them.
-
The dark-haired man does not respond to Tara, eyes resolutely on the ground, following the feet of the person in front of him. Terenia, however, does react. "Where?" she demands, eyes scanning the rebels until they land on Mike. With a sharp inhalation she breaks away from Daniel and Tara, pushing past Niko and Chris and anyone else who dares try to get in her way.
"Mike?" Her voice is shrill enough to make Chris wince a little.
Mike appears to balk, eyes widening in surprise when he is nearly bowled over by Terenia. Chris looks away discreetly then, his fingers lacing between Tess'. He gives her a grim smile. As relieving as some of these reunions are, they are still punctuated by grief.
Behind him, Terenia is finding herself pushed away from Mike, who shakes his head. "Come on, we have to hurry," he says in a low voice that makes Terenia's tear-filled eyes widen.
"What?" she asks, staring at him. She begins to tremble. "What did you say?"
"We have to hurry," he repeats, glancing at the Hork-Bajir, then attempting to pull away from Terenia and lose himself in the crowd. Terenia doesn't follow him; she is rooted to the spot, one hand covering her mouth as she stares at his back. "Oh my God," she whispers.
-
Tara breaks away from Daniel reluctantly, staring as Mike passes by, her own boots glued to the floor.
She forces herself to move, pressing a hand against Terenia's arm.
"That wasn't Mike," she intones lowly, staring at the specter of Myitt's brother's host--and one of her oldest friends. She swallows hard. "He can't be here, he...he escaped capture. I don't know where he is, but he isn't here. He was there when..."
She pauses and shakes her head, changing the subject abruptly. "And did you hear his damn voice?" She eyes Mike's wife, mouthing the Andalite name that twists her stomach with anger, trying to gauge her recognition.
-
Tess squeezes Chris's hand tightly, her eyes meeting his before returning her gaze to those around them again. Her relief at seeing Mike and Terenia fades as she watches Terenia and Tara fall back, stricken, as Mike keeps moving away. Then her eyes turn towards Niko and Dominic, and her sadness deepens as she notices the missing form of Gene.
The last face she studies is Daniel's as he stops, turning to watch Tara and Terenia, his forehead creased with wrinkles, refusing to move on without them.
Then she lowers her eyes to the nutrient packets she is holding over her swollen stomach with one hand, her other still holding Chris's. Despite the joy of being reunited with him, she knows the next few days will be devastating as they account for all they have lost.
-
Ossanlin watches as the last of the rebel hosts finally come through the ingress, followed up by Enorryma. He takes a deep breath, thankfully there hadn't been any issues. He activates the repressor field and a slight bluish hue of energy spreads across the ingress. "Follow me."
Ossanlin begins to make his way to the rendezvous point and contacts Claxter on his ARC. <<Claxter, activate the cutting sequence on floor-breacher one. We'll be with you in a few moments.>>
He closes the communication and opens another to Esarvit. <<Esarvit, begin transferring the prisoner data to my ARC, we'll be there shortly.>>
He closes that communication as well and makes his way through the maintenance tunnels toward the rendezvous until he finally reaches the four waiting Andalites in morph. He nods. <<Refrain from using any thought-speech with them. If you must speak, speak Galard. Claxter, Ehvrin, allow them to claim their weapons and personal effects.>>
He looks more-closely at Claxter. <<Are you doing alright? Those wounds look serious.>>
~
<<Yes sir.>> Ehvrin immediately removes his compression pack and deactivates it, emptying the contents on the sterile floor of the tunnel.
-
Claxter pulled the control for the floor breacher out and activated it, and the floor breacher started doing its work. He'd been sitting against the wall as he waited, with the painkillers lessening the pain to a dull ache.
<<I believe I can make it back to the ship and demorph, my Prince.>> He said. His right arm still wasn't moving, and it took effort to move his right leg. He pulled out the compression packs, and started taking things out for the hosts. <<We encountered the enemy, but led them into an ambush. I was the bait, as you can see, and didn't make it to cover quickly enough. The Andalites...won't be bothering us anymore. I don't suppose you encountered Efaen?>>
-
Terenia blanches, picking up on Tara's meaning almost immediately. Another tremble runs through her and she shakes her head, one hand pressed firmly against her mouth. She looks as though she isn't sure whether she should be furious or crushed. Tears streaming down her face her eyes narrow at the Andalite imposter. "I'm going to kill her," she says at last, in a high pitched voice that doesn't sound at all like herself. She takes a step forward, in the morphed Andalite's direction, then stops again, a shuddering sob wracking her body as she fails to keep her composure.
The sound makes Chris glance back again, and his gaze catches Tara's. He jerks his head forward, indicating that she should get moving, before their chance for escape disappeared. "Something is wrong," he murmurs to Tess. Everything is ****ing wrong, he amends silently.
-
Claxter looks over at the Humans. They all looked shell shocked. Broken. He felt sorry for them. One of them had a stomach that looked like it would burst. Did she have an eating problem, or perhaps she was pregnant? he'd seen little baby Andalites, and considered them cute if sometimes frustrating. He wondered what Human babies would look like. "Is that one pregnant?" He asked the closest one to him.
-
Ossanlin steps up in front of Terenia. "Everything will be taken care of. Remain calm." He turns back to Claxter. <<I see. Claxter...Efaen isn't the same anymore. She wasn't with the Rebellion when they fell, I don't know why she'd be here.>>
He shades his eyes against the bright sparks of the floor-breacher cutting through the ceiling...it had almost completed it's full rotation. He checks his wrist-pad to make sure it was ready to receive data from Esarvit's ARC before running his eyes over the rebel hosts. He directs another thought at Claxter. <<Stop Terenia if she tries to claim a weapon.>>
-
Claxter decided the best way to keep Terenia away from a weapon was to gather them up and hand them out personally. "Here are some weapons. Keep them on stun." He said as he handed them out from a pack he had strapped to his shoulder.
Where wuld Efaen be, then? How could he find her?
-
"They're actually arming us," Chris says under his breath, incredulously. "With our own weapons." He shakes his head in amazement, dropping Tess' hand for the first time, stepping forward to claim his holster. He buckles it around his waist, glad to have the familiar weight back where it belongs. As soon as he is outfitted he returns to Tess' side, his gaze drawn to her stomach. "How are they doing?" he asks quietly, glancing up as Dom steps into line to claim his own holser -- easily identified by the designer belt strap it is attached to. Aya is right behind him. She casts a quick, strained smile in Tess' direction, but her gaze hardens a little when it falls on Chris.
Dom takes his holster and snaps it on, looking shell-shocked and miserable. As soon as it is buckled he rests a hand on Niko's shoulder, swallowing back a swell of emotion. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs. "Reyliss, she...she was with Gene. Or in the pool. I am not sure, but..." His throat works as he trails off.
If Terenia hears Ossanlin, she shows no indication. Shaking, her skin pale, she turns to Tara. "He's dead, isn't he?" she asks, barely able to get the words out. "They both are. Oh God, and Esreth, she was feeding. I--" Quite suddenly she finds that she does not have the strength to continue standing. Her knees buckle, and she leans heavily against the wall, her tears impeding her ability to speak.
-
"Aya," Tess whispers, relief clearly readable on her face as she sees the young woman for the first time. She doesn't take her own weapon, though, one hand pressed against her stomach, the other still clinging to the nutrients. She turns her head back towards Chris and murmurs, "They're moving a lot, but that just means they're still alive." She tries for a smile, but it's weak.
Her gaze catches sight of Daniel as he hurries out of line to join Terenia, kneeling to try to help her up. "Come on, Terenia," she can hear him urging her. "We can't do this here. Please. You've gotta get up."
-
Tara pulls herself out of her dazed reverie, staggering along after Ossanlin and the others.
"Terenia," she murmurs softly, taking her friend's arm, her expression written in grief. "Come on, we'll deal with her. We need to keep moving."
She casts a dark look up at the leathery Hork-Bajir backs in front of them, whispering another Andalite name to Terenia and holding a finger to her mouth to indicate the severity of that secret.
Niko takes his weapon, scowling a little at the Hork-Bajir handing them out. As he buckles his simple black leather holster through his jeans loops, his expression sobers.
"We've gotta stay positive, Dom," he says in a hushed voice. "The ones that are simply missing...they've gotta turn up. Like you said. But Yarin...I couldn't get to him in time, Dom. I tried..." He trails off, tears in his eyes as he looks back up at Dom.
Tara sinks to one knee next to Terenia as the girl collapses, trying to console her along with Tess.
"****, man, we need to go," she hisses. "Do you really think Mike and Corliss would want you to die because you were grieving for them? Huh?" Her tone is gentle, in spite of her firmness. She tries to pull Terenia up with one hand wedged at Terenia's armpit.
-
Esarvit taps at his ARC, sending the data over to Ossanlin's machine. He relaxes slightly as Ossanlin checks his wristpad. If it's this easy to change security levels I'd better be sure it's really his computer picking it up... But all seems well, and he follows along.
-
"Don't give me a dirty look. I'll take the weapon back." He said to the Human who scowled at him. Hopefully when they found out Claxter and the others were Andalites loyal to their cause, they'd be less suspicious. He decided to let Enorryma, who was taking up the rear, handle Terenia. anything he did would probably make it worse. It was odd to see her so broken up like this. He thought anger and detachment were her only emotions. After he was done handing out weapons, he found a spot by the wall. He wanted to sit down again, but he didn't want to do it in front of his Prince.
-
Enorryma's feelings were a mix of bafflement and disgust. The humans had been brainwashed by their parasites; this was the true evil of the Yeerks: they could rewire your brain until you were not only sympathetic with them, but protective of them... grieving for them.
She stood over Terenia. "If you do not stand, I shall be forced to leave you or carry you. Your choice." Norry spread her hands in front of her, again trying to look harmless, but not really relishing the idea of trying to carry humans when her arms were inherently so dangerous to anything she carried. She figured she might be able to toss the human over her shoulder, like the sack of Hork-Bajir supplement, but... that would put Terenia in dangerously easy reach of Norry's ASAR, or even her sidearm.
She lowered her voice a bit more, for Terenia's ears only. "You are not the first to lose somebody. The others need you."
She didn't know if it would work on this human, but she knew that it was the one argument which would be guaranteed to get Norry herself into motion, no matter how far into despair she might be.
Brainwashed or not, perhaps we can still reason with them this way.
-
There's a fairly loud metallic clang as the floor-breacher finishes its cutting and begins to lower the disc of excised metal. Ossanlin's ARC receives the Yeerk prisoner data and he immediately commands his ARC to read the files. His hearts seem to drop as the number of those Yeerks with the appropriate parameters...namely their apprehension date...is less than that of the hosts. Either some of the humans had been uninfested, or hadn't had controllers, odd as that last possibility seemed.
He nods at Norry. <<You're first. Remember, there shouldn't be any Andalites within the cells, the chances are very remote. The blast doors will be sealed and secured.>>
"Hosts, watch for Andalites. You see any, stun them." He glances around the room as the floor-breacher lowers the disc of ceiling far enough for people to be able to squeeze through. "We're retrieving your controllers now. Any kind of counter-productivity would be a waste of your time and a danger to everyone."
He glances at the other four morphed Andalites. <<Keep some eyes on them. We don't want someone thinking they're a hero...this could still go terribly wrong.>>
His ARC lists prisoner numbers in front of his eyes as he waits for Norry to clear the space above.
-
Chris listens to Ossanlin's instructions, checking the setting on his Dracon. He has no intention of using the weapon unless absolutely necessary. He certainly is not leaving Tess' side, despite his eagerness to have Keslin returned to him. He'll be there, he reassures himself, swallowing back a wave of emotion. After so many years with Keslin his absence was almost physically painful. The lack of an extra voice in his head made him feel incredibly empty.
"I am so sorry, Niko," Dom says, squeezing his shoulder, tearing up himself. "I--we need to stay together. We will find Gene, at the very least. And Kellim."
The second name that Tara whispers to Terenia seems to break through her grief long enough that she manages to get her feet up under her. She is still trembling terribly, and when one of the Hork-Bajir approaches her she jerks away, not addressing the alien. She takes a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, pushing back her tears and nodding at Daniel and Tara. "I--okay," she says weakly, swallowing. "Okay." Despite her best attempts, tears still streak down her cheeks silently as she staggers forward. She doesn't even bother trying to reclaim her holster, falling into step behind Chris, her eyes on the ground, her expression one of utter shock and grief.
-
Enorryma squeezed past the group and proceeded ahead of them into the chamber above the one they were in.
She drew her sidearm as she got near the mouth of the hatch, hating even more the Hork-Bajir's awful night vision. The humans below were noisy enough that it interrupted Norry's ability to listen for danger. Finally, she just mustered her impatience and stepped up out of the hatch, silently hoping nothing shot at her.
She still couldn't hear anything, nor smell anything out of the ordinary. She slowly raised the power level on her sidearm, so that the meter on its side emitted a dim red glow. Nothing moved in the low light, and she turned it back down to normal.
<<It appears to be clear, Sir, but I suggest we make this quick. Something seems wrong, and I cannot place what it is.>>
She leaned down over the hatch and rapped on the side of it lightly. "Clear."
-
<<Good, I'm coming up.>>
Ossanlin gestures at Aurellia. "You will come up last."
<<Aurellia, you will come up after me.>> He speaks privately to Aurellia.
"The rest of you will stay here and keep guard!"
With that, he lifts himself up into through the hole that the floor-breacher had cut. He had thought there would be hazard lighting in here...there wasn't. Only a soft blue glow coming from around the corner. That had to be the virtual displays on each of the cells. His ARC HUD overlaid the hallway definitions on his right pupil, creating a virtual, lighted hallway for that eye. The emitter could also project a rather strong beam of light...but all that would do was give away their position to anyone who might have been in the cells, unlikely as that was, and blind his team. The darkness was actually a bit of an advantage with an ARC's HUD capabilities.
He nods to Enorryma as he rounds the corner. Set into each wall were the Yeerk cell bays, each with it's own individual monitor. His HUD analyzes the numbers on each display and automatically highlights those which he wishes to take. He nods. <<They're here.>> He pulls the stable, powered unit he'd brought along for this very purpose out of his pack and expands the slots to be ready to receive.
He glances over at Aurellia as he transmits the proper cell information to be displayed on her HUD. <<I think the block is empty, but Enorryma, keep a close watch in case we missed something. Aurellia and I are going to start removing the cells.>>
Ossanlin begins tapping the key sequence to eject the first cell. A few seconds later, the system ejects it and Ossanlin pulls it out, stowing it in the little case unit. Aurellia had already removed one as well and packed it. Ossanlin works on his second cell and removes. Aurellia's second cell was packed already too. As Ossanlin packs his second cell and Aurellia removes her third, a monotone, female-sounding thought-speech voice echoes from all around. <Warning...unauthori zed access in primary cell-unit. Individual lockdown initiated...individ ual lockdown protocols impeded...engaging secondary defense protocols.>
Ossanlin's eyes widen...this wasn't in the facility's original design. Suddenly, some sort of atomized chemical begins spraying into the room. <<Hold your breath! Enorryma, get down below!>>
~
Aurellia watches as the hosts receive their weapons. Was it really wise to arm them now? But every weapon would count if it came down to a fire-fight. She watches Ossanlin climb into the circular opening in the ceiling and follows him, hefting herself into the Yeerk cell-block. Her HUD immediately supplies her with a perfect facsimile of the hallway's definitions. She follows Ossanlin around the corner and then nods as he sends her the cell data. She immediately begins to unpack cells. Her deft hands move quickly over the familiar Andalite interfaces as she ejects cells and packs them away.
As she removes her third cell, a deceptively pleasant computer thought-speech gives an ominous announcement before atomized chemical begins to spray down from the ceiling. She does as Ossanlin commands and holds her breath, packing the third cell into the unit before turning back to work on the next cell.
~
Ehvrin watches Enorryma, Ossanlin, and Aurellia ascend into the Yeerk cell-block before turning back to watch the newly-armed hosts. His eyes jerk back to the opening as a strange computer announcement rings out and some sort of mist starts wafting down out of the hole.
-
Tess swallows the lump in her throat, remaining close to Chris. "Do you know of any reason Keslin wouldn't be with them?" she whispers, eyes following where their Hork-Bajir rescuers had disappeared.
Daniel puts a hand on Terenia's shoulder to make sure she is stable before letting go of her, his hand blindly reaching for Tara's as he moves to rejoin the group.
When the thought-speech announcement is made, both Tess and Daniel flinch. While Tess clings all the tighter to Chris, Daniel's eyes narrow, and he fingers his newly-reclaimed Dracon without unholstering it.
-
Esarvit freezes in place. His mind seems to work at cross-purposes; his Andalite knowledge is helpless to seek out the Hork-Bajir physiology (can't they use their mouths as an alternate respiration system)? But his morph's instincts take over, following Ossanlin's instructions.
At the same time, he's trying to remember what he's read about chemical defense systems. Are yelach-fission particles still in play? They're expensive to maintain in inactive states for long periods of time, but potentially worth the investment against the right threats...
-
"Everyone out of the room! We need to get away from that stuff! don't panic, just file out!" Claxter said. There hadn't been a direct order to do so, but surely they shouldn't be standing around in that stuff. He gestured in the direction towards where the ship was outside. <<What is this gas supposed to be?>>
-
Enorryma didn't want to leave Ossanlin, but his order hadn't been ambiguous. She sprinted back toward the hole, sparing just enough breath to call down, "Clear the way!"
She jumped down the hole in the floor, appreciating the ease with which the Hork-Bajir's legs took the impact.
<<Hurry, Sir. We don't know what the chemical is.>>
-
Tara helps Terenia to her feet, nodding encouragingly.
"Yeah, see?" she whispers, looking up with a wince as the Andalites-in-morph finish punching a hole in the ceiling. She squeezes Terenia's arm gently. "We're gonna be okay. **** it, we're alive, aren't we?"
Reluctantly she steps away from Terenia, just long enough to have her gun slapped into her hands by one of Ossanlin's lieutenants. She smiles sharply in thanks and stuffs the weapon into her jeans waistband. She and Myitt rarely used a holster; her black jacket, which usually concealed the weapon, is conspicuously missing.
She rejoins Daniel and Terenia, grabbing Daniel's hand and tugging herself against his side.
Niko nods back at Dom, frowning. "We'll find as many damn people as we can. Starting with whoever else got dragged into this ungodly mess." He nods up at the ceiling, just in time for the thought-speech warning.
Tara's hand goes to her Dracon as well, her shirt becoming rumpled and wrinkled as she tries to pull the weapon back out again.
"Dammit," she hisses. "What's going on up there?"
-
<<Aurellia, get below as soon as that cell is stowed.>> Ossanlin starts removing his third cell as Aurellia stows hers. She hesitates only a moment before running down the hallway and dropping through the floor.
~
Ossanlin spares only a brief glance to make sure Aurellia and Enorryma had obeyed his orders. He works on his third cell and ejects it, stowing it in the case. Only one left. His eyes had begun to sting and he's running out of breath. He drops to the floor, exhaling and inhaling again...only a small amount of chemical had made its way to the floor. His lungs burn slightly, but not enough to cause coughing. His skin is starting to sting as well, but he ignores it, working on the final rebel cell.
His fingers tap furiously as he commands the cell to eject from the system. After what seems like an eternity, he manages to extricate the final cell. He stows it in the case and activates the stability system, the case sealing up. He picks it up and stumbles to the end of the block, putting a hand out to steady himself against the wall. His tough skin starts to feel like it's on fire as he makes his way to the hole. He falls to his knees and drops the case through, the static buffers absorbing the impact without causing shift shocks inside. He dives through the hole and puts his hands out below him, attempting to cushion his fall. He uses his arms to shift his downward momentum into a half-roll, half sprawling-crash. He grunts and rolls up against the wall of the hallway, the case sliding a few meters away. He grits his teeth, breathing deeply. His skin feels made of fire now, the chemical burns easily visible. He hacks up a little Hork-Bajir blood and a translucent white haze partially obscures his vision.
"Yaolin!" He grunts the Andalite obscenity in Galard with his grainy, chemical-roughened Hork-Bajir voice.
-
Inside her little liquid cell, Myitt finally senses a shift in movement.
<<What?>> she wonders silently, a pang of hunger shooting through her body. Even the far fall to the floor doesn't hugely impact her well being, but a sense of dread comes over her.
---
In another liquid cell, a very old, very tired Yeerk senses the slight and temporary shift in gravity.
Lanath One-Four-Eight slides along the edge of the tiny metallic prison, the gray liquid sloshing as his cell also impacts the ground below.
A dramatic shift in inertia, yes. I believe I have fallen, he thinks to himself, not without a stab of fear. He tries to steel himself. This can only mean something interesting.
-
"Sir!" Claxter cries as he sees what happened to Ossanlin. He didn't have the strength to help his Prince up, but wished he did. "Is that everyone? Can we get out of here?"
"I'm not sure if the breacher can put the floor piece back into the hole to stop it up. It's probably best we just leave."
-
Chris glances upward when the thought-speak announcement reverberates through his mind. The wisps of gas that make their way downward through the hole in the ceiling make his eyes narrow. He grabs at Tess' arm, pulling her back. "Stay back," he hisses, his other hand on his weapon, though there is no one to shoot. A moment later, though, he is glad he pulled back with Tess. A pack falls through the hole in the ceiling, followed closely by the Hork-Bajir that had been leading the escape. Chris winces as the clearly injured creature cries out in pain and counts himself lucky that he is not too near his blades.
Terenia's eyes travel from Daniel to Tara and down to their joined hands. She swallows hard and drops her gaze, staring at the floor, shoulders slumped. From her expression it is clear that she does not really care whether they make it out alive or not.
Keslin lets out a useless ultrasonic chirp as the limited liquid in his prison sloshes slightly, pushing him against one of the walls. What is happening? he wonders as his cell comes to rest once more. He wonders vaguely, almost with a sense of relief, if perhaps they have finally decided to end this pointless suffering.
-
Enorryma rushed to Ossanlin's side and moved to prop him up, ignoring the burning lacerations his blades leave on her arms. She noticed how much cooler the hall was than the chamber above, where the Yeerks had been stored. This created a draft as the warmth tried to move into the lower chamber.
<<Sir, what are your orders? The gas seems to be somewhat lighter than air, but it will take only a few minutes for the positive air pressure to carry it down here.>>
-
Ossanlin glances around him. <<The case...someone will have to carry it. I...can barely see. Enorryma, we need to evacuate now. We have...everything.>> He hacks again and then tries to stand. <<I believe...I can walk.>> He blinks his eyes several times, trying to clear them, only to discover that the translucent white haze is actually corneal damage. He had fallen on his ASAR and the weapon's metal casing had bent and cracked under his weight.
He uses the support offered by Enorryma, noticing even through his impaired vision the damage she was taking on account of his blades. <<Enorryma...I believe I shall have to call you shorm under appropriate circumstances.>> He struggles to his feet, leaning on the wall with one hand pressed against its smooth surface, the other still grasping one of Enorryma's wrists. He nods to his TO and releases her wrist. <<Perhaps I can carry the case after all.>> He limps to the case, his skin still burning. Normally the Hork-Bajir form would've been healing by now, but the chemical is apparently designed to continue to eat into the skin until nullified. He grits his teeth again, his face displaying no other signs of the intense pain.
"It's time we left." He glances at Norry. "Take point, I will follow." <<Claxter, follow behind me...I know you're injured, but I may require your...assistance. Esarvit, Aurellia, and Ehvrin, you have the rear guard.>> He starts to limp down the hallway back toward the west ramp-well...they had to make it back to the service hangar hatch.
~
Aurellia and Ehvrin both nod as they fall in at the end of the long line of hosts.
-
Esarvit falls in line. <<I can take the case,>> he offers one-heartedly*, still shifting the nourishment materials on the Hork-Bajir arms. <<Do you need to remorph?>>
*compare Galard "half"
-
Claxter follows Ossanlin, eager for them all to leave this place behind them. The mission looked like it would be successful, with no real losses. Everything would be reversed as soon as Claxter and his Prince demorphed. He just hoped nothing would go wrong at the last minute. Surely they had had enough difficulty.
Soon they would be going back up those shafts again. Would he be able to get up with one arm? Was the pregnant Human fit enough to climb? They'd just have to try their best, he supposed.
-
Enorryma waited a beat to verify that Ossanlin was able to move on his own power, then nodded and quickly moved to point position, leading the group up and out of the tangled trap of hallways and toxic gas where they had collectively cornered themselves.
<<Shorm? I am honoured at the notion, but let's save that designation for when you're not under duress.>> Now was no time to get emotional, but she was truly moved that Ossanlin would even consider valuing her that highly.
She moved forward with a curtailed urgency, limited by the humans' speed and her own need to check and clear corners as they turned around them, paranoia proven valid.
Soon she could faintly smell ship's air. "We are close."
-
Ossanlin nods and follows the large blackish-greenish humanoid blob that he perceives as Enorryma, one hand against the tunnel's wall, the other grasping the case containing the Yeerks. <<It is alright Esarvit...I would rather you have both hands free. It is you three who will need to defend our flank if the facility Andalites manage to come up behind us.>>
Ossanlin turns, still leaning against the wall as his vision grows worse, his skin a mass of chemical burns that just won't stop slowly spreading. "The...atmosphere is bad. Breathe...shallowly ." He hits the lever to unlatch the hatch. The air would still be facility-quality in the airlock until they popped the floor hatch at the top of the ladder. He steps in behind Enorryma and steps to the side to allow his troops and the hosts to come through with their burdens.
An explosion echoes from back down the corridor. Ossanlin's eyes widen. "They must...be getting...through our blockades. Hurry...everyone into the...environment lock."
He sends a private thought to Leskel up above. <<Leskel...we're on our way up. Ready the Mirage...I want to be off the ground in five standard minutes.>>
~
Aurellia follows at the tail of the line, still carrying her burdens. As the hosts start entering the environment lock, she hears explosions coming from behind her and turns around, leveling her ASAR on a straight shot down the length of the hallway. If they got caught outside the airlock, there wouldn't be any cover. She begins backing into those in front of her in an effort to herd them along.
~
As Ehvrin follows the group, explosions from behind catch his attention and he whips around just as fast as Aurellia, leveling his ASAR down the hallway. He glances over at the female and imitates her, attempting to herd the hosts into the environment lock quickly.
~
Leskel hears his Prince's orders and gallops away from the hangar toward the Mirage. As soon as he passes through the camouflage, the ramp jumps into view and he mounts it. He runs to the ****pit and begins warm-up procedures for the Mirage. <<Yes, sir.>> He begins to demorph into his own form once the procedures have been initiated.
-
The idea that they'd soon be stormed by a dozen or so Andalites sent chills down Claxter's spine. sure he could shoot with his good arm if it wasn't holding anything, but he couldn't run or dodge. Ossanlin's condition was getting worse, and nothing short of demorphing may help. If it helped. The rebels had weapons, but they were still in a negative emotional state. still grieving, and somewhat suspicious of their rescuers. He had to calm down. He couldn't let it get to him. They were almost back to the ship. Just a little farther.
-
"****," Tara exclaims, scrambling out of the way as the Yeerk rescue crew tumbles from the ceiling. She pockets her Dracon and hurries along the corridor, dragging Daniel with her. She looks over her shoulder to see if Terenia is still following.
Whatever that chemical material was, it had turned Ossanlin's morphed body into a series of gruesome wounds and pustules, and she was not going to add that to her list of problems. In the frantic rush she notes Ossanlin is carrying a series of metallic cells, hoping that they are what she thinks they are.
Niko steps back as Ossanlin spirals out of the hole in the ceiling, all blades and tail, a trail of chemical fume snaking after him.
He stands, staring, as their ragtag band starts to make a break for it down the hall.
"Dom," he murmurs, taking the man's arm in a vice grip, still staring up at the hole in the ceiling. "Let's get the hell away from whatever that is." Swallowing, he hurries after the others.
By the time Tara makes it to the environmental lock she is coughing consistently, brushing at her nose and eyes with the back of a hand.
-
Tess stumbles backwards with Chris's urging, farther away from the dangerous gas, but the motion is nearly as dangerous as she almost trips, clinging to Chris's arm to stabilize herself. She stares at the vapors that seep into the space. "I can't breathe that," she whispers fearfully as her other hand goes to her stomach. "I don't know what it'll do to them." She pulls farther away and deeper into the crowd of rebels, tugging Chris with her.
Daniel keeps his grip on Tara grimly, his attention focused on her until he spots Terenia's expression. Then he immediately reaches for her hand with his free one. He does not speak, but the concerned look in his eyes says it all.
-
Joanne continues to follow the crowd nervously, less than pleased with most of these events. She carries the food packet with trepidation, casting awkward glances ahead as if hoping for an explanation. If they've retrieved Tara and the other hosts, does it follow that these guys will be picking up the Yeerks? Joanne hopes so, truly hopes so. She doesn't know what she'd do if she was forced to leave alone.
Joanne's gun is abruptly passed to her by one of the Hork-Bajir, or at least a gun. The dents and nicks on the sides look awfully familiar, though. Joanne grins, kissing the weapon and enjoying the cold feel of its sides. "My baby," she states aloud. "Now we jus' pick up Kess an' we'll all be back together."
Joanne looks ahead in confusion, trying to make out what the front group is doing. There appears to be an environmental lock not far ahead of them, suggesting they're not far from the end. That's good, but where the hell...Joanne's eyes widen as a burned Hork-Bajir suddenly tumbles out of the ceiling nearby. Even she in her reverie isn't blind enough to miss that display of strangeness. To make matters worse, a trail of chemical fumes follows him. "****in' hell!" cries out Joanne, suddenly intent on getting out of there. She's helped along by one of the other Hork-Bajir near the back, who appears to be hurriedly trying to get the entire group out of the base. An explosion shakes the group from much farther behind, and Joanne attempts to keep her head in the confusion. She has lingered for far too long. She can't afford to wait for Keshin.....
**********************************************************************************
Keshin's quiet misery is disrupted by the water about him shifting positions drastically, pushing him right up against the edge of the cell. <What?> he thinks aloud, not particularly expecting anyone to hear him. Whatever just happened means that the connection between himself and the base is disrupted.
Keshin cannot truly move around, or even hazard a guess as to what happened. His best interpretation is that his cell is...moving. The movement he felt had to involve a drop and a lift. Since he is probably in a wall, that means they are either there to kill him or...or something else. A small, burning kernel of hope appears in his heart that perhaps he will not die by starvation.
-
Chris leads Tess, helping her along best he can. When she nearly trips he steps forward, his arms going around her protectively. "Come on," he whispers, giving the top of her head a quick kiss before breaking away. He makes for the front of the ranks, pushing past the others towards what, he hopes, is a way out.
Dom's eyes widen at the chemical assault, and he gives Niko a hasty nod, turning and following the group. He stays close to Niko, glancing back periodically to make sure that no one is lagging.
When Daniel's hand closes around Terenia's she looks up in surprise. She lets out a shaky breath and nods, letting him tug her along with Tara. She is still crying, but silently now, not putting much effort into moving beyond what she must do to keep up with Daniel and Tara.
The Mike look-alike hurries along, not interacting with anyone, not making eye contact. Occasionally he glances up to make sure that they are still making forward progress, but otherwise he does everything he can to remain inconspicuous.
-
Ossanlin makes his way to the ladder, case still in hand. He turns around and watches as all the morphed andalites and hosts make their way through the lock hatch followed by Ehvrin, Esarvit, and Aurellia. Aurellia pulls the lock shut and the room seals. She switches her ASAR to cutting mode and fuses the the door shut for good measure.
"Keep an eye out....that door is meant to withstand pressure...but if they...find us, be ready to defend." Ossanlin looks up the ladder. He attaches the case to the harness underneath his pack and mounts the ladder. <<I will go first, Aurellia will follow me, then Claxter. The hosts will file up next. Enorryma, I need you to keep the rear guard with Ehvrin and Esarvit. Once the hosts have come up, Ennoryma come up, then Esarvit, and Ehvrin.>>
Ossanlin pushes through the raging pain, parts of his body becoming numb. That's a bad sign...he needs to morph, and soon. Each ladder rung is a battle, a lesson in pain, but Ossanlin continues to climb. One story....two...thre e...and he finally reaches the hatch. He slides the trigger to open the hatch-release panel. He grabs the handle and repeats the same motions he'd used to open the door, only in reverse. The hatch hisses and slides back, revealing the inside of the maintenance hangar. The poor atmospheric air burns his damaged lungs much worse than the facility's air. He hacks a couple of times before getting his breathing under control. He climbs up into the hangar and draws his little handheld Dracon. The ASAR hanging off his back was probably useless due to the damage.
He limps to the door leading out to the landing pads waiting for Aurellia and Claxter.
~
Aurellia nods to her Prince after fusing the atmospheric lock. She quickly follows him up the ladder and then kneels next to the hatch to offer Claxter a hand if he needs one.
-
Flinching at the explosions, Chris stays protectively behind Tess, moving as fast as he can while still protecting her. When they reach the ladder he comes to an abrupt halt and looks up. "****," he murmurs. That's an awful long climb for someone nine months pregnant with twins. "Tess, can you...?" He glances at her doubtfully. "You go first. I'll be right behind you, okay? Just...be careful."
Dom pulls up as the line of hosts in front of him come to a stop, reaching a ladder of some sort. He looks back nervously, shifting from foot to foot as he waits for the people in front to begin ascending.
"Dom." A voice by his elbow makes him look up. It is Aya. Dom smiles briefly and wraps a single arm around her shoulders in a brief hug.
"Aya," he whispers. "I am glad you are safe."
She nods, but looks troubled. "There aren't a lot of us here," she says quietly. "Zach..." She winces and Dom's arm tightens around her.
"He was off base, I'm pretty sure," she says, chewing on her lip. "I think he's safe. Lanath...Lanath was with me. Dom...I...there's so many missing." She swallows back a lump in her throat. She clears her throat, then adds, "And someone unfamiliar." She nods her head towards Joanne, who is a few people behind them.
Still letting herself be tugged along by Daniel, Terenia remains silent, her eyes glazed over and unfocused. When he stops, she stops. When he moves forward, she moves. She doesn't offer any commentary.
-
Claxter waits for aurellia before taking his turn. The climb is a bit hard, but his need to escape helps him ignore the everything else. Whaen he reahes the top, he grabs Aurellia's hand thankfully, and is helped up. He looks down to see if anyone else needs help, knowing this won't be very easy for the pregnant Human either.
-
Ossanlin watches Aurellia and Claxter climb up out of the hole in the floor from the door. <<Aurellia...I need you to cover the landing pad. This was not my plan but...I'm useless until I demorph.>> He coughs up a little Hork-Bajir blood. <<And I need to do that soon. I will cross first. Claxter, I need you to cross and cover the open ground from the bottom of the Mirage's ramp. If they see the others down below...those who have made their way outside...will know...where to...find us.>> Ossanlin fights the light-headedness and slides the door open, waiting for Aurellia to take up position. He peeks around the side of the door and notes that the pathway appears to be clear. The Mirage is still cloaked, but he knows exactly where the ramp is.
<<Leskel, I will be entering the Mirage soon.>>
~
Aurellia nods to Claxter as she helps heave him up, and then jogs over to Ossanlin. At his orders, she jumps outside, looking both ways to make sure the path is clear before hunkering down next to some crates so that she can cover both directions outside. She waves to her Prince to go.
~
Ossanlin nods to Aurellia and half-limps, half-sprints toward the Mirage. His lungs burn but he forces his legs to keep moving. The sky is still deep black, the stars barely visible due to the planet's shadow. Thirty meters...twenty...f ifteen...ten...five ...and suddenly he trips over the end of the ramp as he's enveloped by the active camouflage. He stumbles to his knees, but forces himself to crawl up the ramp a ways before he begins to demorph.
The changes start slowly, but begin to pick up speed as burning, useless flesh is replaced by fresh skin and fur. Chemical-burned lungs become healthy, fully-functional specimens and Ossanlin inhales greedily, the acrid, barely-breathable atmospheric air tasting as sweet as plains land on the Homeworld. He disentangles himself from his pack and it slides off to the side a bit, along with the Yeerk-laden case. Soon, he's fully Andalite again and he breathes deeply. He doesn't afford himself any rest before starting the Hork-Bajir morph again. Claxter should be crossing now...he hadn't mentioned it to Claxter, but one of the reasons he wants the Warrior to come across is because he's concerned about the younger Andalite's wounds.
He stands, picking up the pack and case again, his re-morph still underway. He heads for the med-bay. He sends a quiet open thought-speech to the case as he unhooks it with his free hand, his morph once again complete. <I apologize for the bumpy ride, you'll be able to feed soon.> Hopefully the Yeerks inside wouldn't become frightened at the sound of thought-speech, though that would be an understandable reaction given what they'd been through. And he hopes that some...one, at least...will recognize his voice.
Ossanlin sends a private thought up to Leskel on the flight-deck. <<Leskel, seal off that flight-deck...I don't want the hosts becoming frightened at seeing an Andalite. Not until we're all aboard and off the ground at least.>> He stashes the Yeerk-case in the med-bay, making his way back toward the ramp to help cover the escaping rogues and hosts.
<<Aurellia, take up a cover position at the hangar's dome entrance in case they figure things out, and tell the hosts where to go if they need direction.>>
~
Leskel nods as he hears Ossanlin mention that he'd be back aboard the ship soon. His stalk eyes see his Prince stagger onto the ramp and widen at the horrible sight of burned, maimed flesh. The engines are cycling up...but just as he begins to move toward Ossanlin, his Prince begins to demorph and keeps his position.
He seals off the flight-deck when Ossanlin tells him to do so. <<Yes, Prince.>>
~
Ehvrin stands back as Aurellia fuses the environment lock with the SB mode of her ASAR, but takes up watch again. He notes his Prince, Aurellia, and Claxter ascending the ladder before another explosion draws his eyes to the corridor. He sees Andalites running through the crossing corridor via the port in the hatch. Suddenly, one notices his face and fires at the lock. The thick metal seems to absorb the blast, but he turns to regard the hosts and his companions. "They've seen us! Go! Quickly! As fast as you can! If you can't climb with the supplement, leave some behind! Carry as much as you can without it slowing you down!" Ehvrin shouts in Galard.
The Andalites start running down the hallway toward the environment lock. <Stop! They're over here! Cease! Surrender now!> The thought-speech shouts echo through the walls. <Anyone outside, make for the Maintenance Hangar!> One shouts into his communicator.
-
Claxter started making his way to the ramp of the ship. His bad leg felt like it was about to give out, but he hit it with his fist to put some feeling back into it. When he made it to the Mirage, and was hidden, he began to demorph. He regained a steady balance and both arms, as well as losing that distracting dull pain.
Soon after he saw an Andalite rush around the corner of the facility like he knew exactly where they were. <<They're coming around to the entrance, Aurellia!>> He yelled as he raised his weapon to take a shot. The first was too far ahead, as the distance was a bit far for him to one shot the Andalite, but it made him stop. As he tried to figure out where the shot came from, Claxter managed to hit and stun him. Stationary targets were always easier to hit.
<<We're clear for the moment.>>
-
Tess licks her lips nervously as she stares up the ladder in front of Chris. Then she discards the nutrients she has been carrying, knowing it's a complete lost cause, and places her foot on the first rung. Pulling herself up to the second is a chore, her heavy stomach in the way of her knees and elbows.
With a grunt of exertion, the gap between her and the next person ahead of her growing, she climbs several more feet, pausing to catch her breath. And that is the moment in which they are spotted. The moment shots are fired, she lets out a quiet sound of fear and begins hauling herself upward with greater speed, forehead shining with sweat, painful contractions kicking in. All she wants to do is curl up on herself, but she knows she can't; if nothing else, she is holding up everyone else's progress.
When she reaches the top, she lets out an exhausted, pained sound, panting heavily and clutching her stomach with both hands. "Chris," she whispers, tears in her eyes as she looks back for him, needing his help.
Daniel doesn't let go of Terenia's hand until they make it to the bottom of the ladder, swiveling his head to try to keep an eye out on their attackers. "Go first," he prods Terenia and Tara forward, his now-free hands going for his Dracon.
-
"Tess--" Chris gasps. After so long in the cell his legs ache with the effort of climbing, and how Tess is managing he has no idea. He is almost at his limit when the sound of Shredder fire rings out. "Hurry!" he hisses, as close behind Tess as he can manage without crowding her. Once she finally reaches the top he tumbles out after her, scrambling on hands and knees to her side. His cheeks pale when he sees Tess clutching her stomach. Oh no... He swallows back a surge of terror at the thought of having pushed her too hard.
"Tess, are you alright?" he asks, watching her desperately, wishing he knew some way that he could help.
Terenia hesitates, waiting for those in front of her -- including Dom and Aya -- to begin making their way up the ladder. When Daniel tells her to go first she almost refuses, the idea of sitting down and crying much more appealing than any escape. Then the shots ring out, and some sense of self-preservation pushes her forward. Gripping the sides of the ladder she begins to haul herself upward.
The morphed form of Mike finds himself at the back of the line, beside Daniel. He has no weapon to speak of, but when the sound of firing begins to echo through the corridor he steps forward, in front of Daniel. "Go," he says gruffly, in a voice that definitely lacks Mike's accent.
-
Tess trembles, sitting back on her knees, still clutching her stomach as the other rebels start to move past them. Hissing, she lets out a low moan, unable to help herself; the cramping is impossibly painful, like someone is wringing her insides like a wet rag. "I think it's... it's contractions. God..." she whimpers. "How much farther is it?"
Daniel glances at the Mike look-alike and doesn't argue, hurrying up the ladder after Tara and Terenia. He grunts at the sudden exertion after so much time sitting still in a cell.
-
Esarvit looks up at the hosts. These are the people he's risking his life for--slow-moving sympathizers, he begins, but cuts himself off as the Andalites approach.
He feels tired, but at least he's accomplished something so far. He hasn't been just a waste of weight--yet. He recites a ritual chant in the back of his mind, which helps him relax and remember his purpose. It also, subconsciously, provides him with a rhythm of when to fire. He gets off a shot, but it misses wide of the target.
-
Ossanlin steps up beside Claxter after he dispatches the first Andalite. <<Good job. Remorph, I don't want the hosts balking or trying to shoot at seeing an Andalite.>> He steps down out of the camouflage field, running over to some crates for cover...that should give any more Andalites that found their way to the Maintenance pads a target besides innocent hosts.
~
Aurellia responds to Claxter by swiveling back to cover the door until he says that he's taken care of the threat. As she notices the hosts beginning to disgorge from the floor. She points toward the back door which is still standing open. "Go that way, the ship is cloaked on landing pad one. You must hurry! It is mere meters away." She doesn't include that it's several meters away.
She continues to the front hangar entrance and takes up position inside the door. A cursory glance shows three Andalites approaching. She leans out and fires, taking one in the chest. As his body crumples, the other two dart off in different directions, firing at Aurellia as they run for cover. She ducks back inside the front door and darts a glance at the hosts. "Go!"
~
Ossanlin watches as the hosts begin to funnel out of the hangar entrance and points toward the cloaked Mirage. "Over there!" He hears Shredder fire echo from the front of the building...hopefull y Aurellia could handle it.
~
Ehvrin steps away from the door as the Andalites on the other side begin cutting through...not a quick process, and the hallway limits them to two being able to work on it at a time...but there's no time to waste. "Hurry! Go! We are out of time!" He urges the hosts to move faster. He trains his weapon on the door, sparing glances for both Enorryma and Esarvit before focusing again on the door.
-
Claxter begins remorphing as ordered, and bends down to keep him from tipping as his bottom half starts shriveling. He sees two Andalites try to take cover from Aurellia's shots, and they aren't easy for him to hit from his position either. They seem to have noticed the last guy Claxter shot, and didn't want to wind up the same. He took some shots, though wasn't able to connect. He was only able to fire at one of them, as the other had taken cover too far away. At least he had one pinned while he tried to find some way to hit him.
-
Niko stuffs protein packs into his pockets and scrambles up the ladder after Dom and a few of the others, his heart hammering in his chest. He nearly loses his grip on the metal rungs as Shredder fire echoes, impossibly close.
He clings to the ladder for a few seconds, palms sweating, eyes closed.
"Move, already!" Tara snaps, a few people below him, more out of fear than anger.
That drags Niko out of his dizzy spell, and he hurries up the last few rungs, pulling himself up into the main bay.
Tara follows, glancing back down and instantly regretting it, noting Daniel below her but more critically realizing how high up they are.
"****," she breathes, pulling herself up with shaking hands. When she reaches the top she has little time to dwell on her fear of heights; Tess lies on the ground in front of her, and the others are already hurrying toward the Mirage, just out of sight.
Niko rushes toward the Mirage, but Tara kneels next to Tess and Chris, staring up at Chris with wide eyes.
"We need to keep her moving," she says urgently. "Tess, can you walk?"
-
"Come on, Tess, we're almost there," Chris urges, trying best he can to help her to her feet, crouching low to try and make himself a smaller target while still protecting Tess. "Just a little bit further, eh? Then we can rest." Assuming this isn't some sort of elaborate trap. He shoves the thought aside. Whoever these people were, they had armed him and they were risking their lives for them. Surely that meant they wanted to keep him safe, right?
At the back of the line, the Mike imposter is the last person to clear the ladder. He steps out onto solid ground and, almost immediately is knocked backwards, narrowly avoiding falling back through the shaft. At first he cannot figure out the source of the forceful blow, but then searing pain hits him with such intensity that he can't help but cry out in anguish. A look downward shows the damage; a stray Shredder shot has caught him below his left knee, charring the leg beyond recognition.
With a panicked, pained cry he tries to pull himself to his feet, but finding one utterly useless he only falls back again. In too much pain to speak, sweat streaming down his face he looks up at the nearest person that he recognizes. <<Tara! Daniel!>> The thought-speak cry is wrought with pain, but even then Efaen has enough presence of mind to exclude Terenia from the plea. <<Help me, please.>>
-
Tara struggles to help lift Tess to her feet. She stops in her efforts only when Efaen's thought-speech voice rings in her head.
Still holding Tess' arm, she throws a hasty glance over her shoulder.
What she sees makes her let go of her friend, turning to Mike's bloodied and charred form with a hand to her mouth. Even though she knows it isn't truly her friend, or Myitt's brother, she can't help but feel sickened by the sight of Mike's body so gravely injured.
"Goddammit," she hisses, having half a mind to leave the Andalite there in pain. "Daniel, help me!"
She hurries to Efaen's side, roughly dragging her upward at one arm. "Get up," she growls, breaking out into a cold sweat, pulling at Efaen without any of the concern or gentleness she had shown Tess.
Shredder fire lances over their heads and she curses again, nearly dropping Efaen.
-
Ossanlin hears the Shredder fire from the other side of the building, but can't see the source, so he keeps vigil for any Warriors that might try to flank the building.
-
Esarvit gets off another shot. This one is aimed better, with force enough to knock over one of his adversaries (though probably not kill them outright); his success is stifled, however, by a return shot catching him in the ankle. He shifts his weight to the other foot, trying to ignore the pain.
-
"I--" Tess cuts off her word with a gasp of pain, clinging to Chris and Tara. When Tara moves away, she nearly falls again, but then she straightens her legs with a grunt. "Yes--I... I have to," she whispers in response to the question about her ability to walk. Still relying fully on Chris, she takes a few steps forward. The contractions are still occurring, but they are lessening in frequency and strength, and this enables her to move down the hallway.
Daniel stops at the cry for help, automatically twisting on the ladder to snag the human arm just below him with his own living metal hand. He hauls him upward several feet until Tara is able to help him, and then, not wanting to waste any more time, he crowds Efaen's morphed form as he clambers upward and off the ladder.
-
Enorryma had waited tensely for the others to move on ahead of her, and now as the enemy Andalites- enemy Andalites, what a thought!- came up behind them, she had a completely ridiculous idea which might buy them a few extra seconds.
Unshouldering the bag of Hork-Bajir supplement, she sliced into it with one of her wrist blades and hurled it at the Andalites pursuing them. She drew her sidearm and fired into the emerging supplement, superheating it immediately into a stinging cloud of vapour and burning pellet fragments which flew toward the faces of the Andalites.
She hurried to follow the others up into the vessel, stooping quickly along the way to grab the few human supplement packs which had been dropped during the escape.
-
"It's alright," Chris says soothingly, wrapping one arm around her back to help support her as they move. Helping Tess slows his progress, and some of the other rebels begin to filter around him. "Almost there," he murmurs. "You're doing great." God, how many of us were lost? he can't help but think as he watches the meager group of survivors make their way across the landing pad.
After what feels like an interminably long time his foot finally detects a change in angle. He nearly stumbles and falls at the sudden shift in direction the ramp causes, but he catches himself, gripping Tess tightly. "Going up," he says. "Just about there."
Efaen leans heavily on Tara and Daniel, gritting her teeth against the unbearable pain. She does what she can to hop along, but each movement makes spots appear in front of her eyes and once she nearly loses her consciousness. <I must...demorph...> she whispers, but she doesn't abandon the human morph yet, knowing that the awkwardness of her shifting form may prevent them from reaching safety as quickly as they need to.
-
Claxter isn't sure if he should take his eyes off where the Andalite is hiding long enough to help the two Humans. "Good job. You made it. The med bay is back there." He said, telling them how to get there. That would be the best place for her to rest. I need to stay here and make sure the enemy doesn't get too close."
-
Tess pants as they make their way up the ramp and on board, still clinging to Chris with one hand, her other on her stomach to support its weight. Her forehead wrinkles as she looks up at the Hork-Bajir who had spoken to her and Chris. "Let's go... I need to lie down," she breathes to Chris, searching the polished halls as if she expects to see a cot ready and waiting right in front of her.
"Come on, we're almost there," Daniel mutters to Efaen, grunting with her added weight. "You can demorph once we're on board. Just a few more paces."
-
Ossanlin catches a glimpse of an Andalite rounding a corner and fires a few times, the Dracon squealing out its characteristic "Tssseeew" with each shot. The Andalite comes up short and begins firing on Ossanlin's position.
<<Aurellia! Be ready to fall back as soon as the others reach the hangar bay. Things are getting messy in a hurry.>>
"Everyone, hurry!" He yells out in Galard.
~
Ehvrin jumps back from the door as it falls open, the seams cut completely through. He begins firing through the haze of the partially-slagged doorway. Suddenly he sees a cloud of powder flying toward the door and jumps back again as it ignites, driving heat and flame out into the hallway. He turns his wide eyes on Enorryma as she makes for the ladder. He nods to Esarvit. <<You're injured sir...you go, I'll hold them...go, sir!>>
Ehvrin continues to fire into the hallway. A slumped Andalite body falls through the doorway, partially blocking it. A few wild bolts singe through, but nothing that lands. Ehvrin begins to back toward the ladder to follow Esarvit up as soon as his ranking officer begins to climb.
~
Aurellia hisses as a Shredder bolt grazes her left shoulder. She leans out the door and fires again, catching another Andalite in the hind-quarters before taking cover again. Thankfully the hallway acts as a sort of bottleneck. <<Yes, sir. They are.>> She responds to her Prince.
-
Chris nods and leads Tess past the Hork-Bajir towards the room he indicated. He doesn't take the time to look at his surroundings, intent upon his goal. There will be time for that later, he reasons, focusing on getting Tess to safety.
It isn't until they step into the med bay that Chris feels even remotely like he can calm down. "Over here," he says, directing Tess to the closest equivalent to a bed that the place has to offer. "Here, lean on me, I'll help you up." He watches Tess nervously as he tries to make her comfortable.
Efaen doesn't respond, fingers clutching at Daniel's shoulder as she leans most of her morphed form's weight on him rather than Tara. By the time they reach the ramp her vision is blurred and she collapses to the metal ground in a heap. Mike's already pale skin is even more blanched, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead as Efaen struggles to keep conscious. A shiver runs through her and, despite the terrible burn she suddenly feels cold.
Terenia, having made it onboard ahead of Daniel and Tara, is looking around the cabin, struck by the familiarity of it, when they enter and Efaen collapses onto the ground. Jerking towards the Mike look-alike instinctively, she recoils when she sees the charred flesh that is where a leg once was.
"Oh God," she whispers, bringing a hand to her mouth, her stomach twisting in revolt. She knows it isn't Mike, but seeing his body mangled like that makes bile rise in her throat.
-
Niko jogs onto the ship, digging the protein packets out of his pockets as he stares around at the Mirage's sleek interior. The tiny part of him that isn't weary with grief and terror notes with grim appreciation that this is his first time on an Andalite ship.
He looks back to the others, waving Dom along.
Tara grunts with effort as she drags Efaen's nearly full weight across the bay, struggling even with Daniel's help. Her own body protests the effort after such a long time without much effort being expended at all.
Shredder fire lances over their heads, dangerously close, and that urges Tara onward with a spike of life-affirming fear. She curses under her breath.
Finally, sweating and out of breath, Mike's form is pulled up the Mirage's ramp and into the safety of the cabin. Tara drops Efaen unceremoniously, slumping against a wall to catch her breath, though she is still standing.
-
Claxter finally manages to hit the Andalite, who had come from cover long enough to take a shot towards the ramp. Once he was down, Claxter went over to Mike to pick him up and carry him into the med bay. "We'll fix you up, Mike." He said. He realized he just accidentally called the guy by name, but hopefully that wouldn't cause problems. They were mostly inside the ship anyway. The mission was practically over. <<Prince Ossanlin, do we have a procedure to help heal Mike? He doesn't look good. I'm getting him into the med bay.>>
-
Esarvit doesn't waste time with a reply, just makes his way over to the ladder. At least the hosts are up. Once again, his Hork-Bajir instincts help guide him onwards, and he's almost tempted to brace with one hand and shoot with the other now that he's got some altitude. His cautious side kicks in, however, and he decides to wait at least until he's made it to the top.
-
Joanne hurriedly rushes up the ladder when the shots begin to ring, grabbing each rung as if it were a lifeline. It is abundantly clear that the rescue team is running out of time. "****!" she curses as she notices someone she recognizes getting mangled below her. It's Mike---she's pretty sure that's the name of Corliss' host. She does not look back to check him out: it is abundantly clear they have to get wherever they're going as quickly as possible. She has no idea who's made it and who hasn't---her focus is blindly ahead, on her own life.
Joanne dashes across the landing pad, dropping the supplement in the process. No time---she's far faster without it on open ground even without boosting herself. A part of her thrills at the old rush---her feet hitting pavement, gunshots behind her. Joanne then hits her foot against something hard, thankful she didn't bruise it this time. Joanne frowns as the others run past her and finally realizes it's the ramp of the ship precious seconds later. She darts into the ship with the others, by pure luck not getting shot from her delay.
She recognizes her current location far more quickly than the ramp. It is pretty hard to forget the place you almost died. "It's that freak Ossanlin!" she calls out without thinking. "Ossanlin rescued us! ....crap, oughta thank the blue bugger. Why save me?"
Joanne notes that Mike did make it aboard, and the entire party has gathered around the injured man. Hah--one of her favorite backers got his leg blown off. "Hmm," she frowns, glancing up at Claxter. "If ya can speak English or somethin', can ya tell me if he's gonna make it? I know him in part."
-
Claxter looked annoyed at Joanne. "We were meant to discuss this afterwards, so as not to startle anyone during the escape." He said, sticking to spoken language, though any Human in earshot of her would have heard her mention Ossanlin. "We should hopefully be able to fix Mike, though I make no guarantees. We are saving you because you are in the group of people we came to save. We didn't expect you to be here."
"Prince Ossanlin has been a rebel sympathizer for a while, and wished to help right the wrong that has happened to the rebellion. I don't know what will happen to us all after this, but saving who we can if better than leaving all of you to this place. Most of you deserve better." He said this in English, having heard plenty of it at the bar.
-
"Heh, most of you, " states Joanne, thinking of herself. So that was it. She was just in the right place at the right time. With any luck, Keshin was too. She glanced around the crowd of humans, noting the familiar faces. It didn't look like a disaster to her, but how was she to know? Half the rebellion could be dead. An' I'm still alive. That's irony for ya.
Respecting the guy's request, Joanne said nothing else. Maybe she could assess the damage by speaking with Tara. This wasn't her catastrophe. This was barely even her war.
-
Ehvrin begins to climb up behind Esarvit. A stray shot grazes a leg and he grunts in pain, but continues to climb. He pulls a pulse-detonator from his belt and pushes the correct button sequence to activate it. He drops it back down the hole once he's high enough up. Shouts echo up from below just before a powerful compression wave explodes outward. It would stun any of the Andalites that had entered the room, and maybe even some in the corridor. The compression wave dies out as it bounces randomly up the shaft, giving Ehvrin little more than a bump from below.
He finally extricates himself from the top of the shaft and turns his eyes on Aurellia. <<That's all of us, we must go!>>
~
Aurellia sighs with relief and nods, firing a few shots randomly into the hallway before turning and running for the opposite door behind Enorryma, Ehvrin and Esarvit.
~
Ossanlin breathes a sigh of relief as the remaining four Warriors run out from the Maintenance hangar. He continues to cover them from his position as Shredder fire begins to lance out from the hangar. Apparently Aurellia had had some effect in keeping that building clear. As the four make it safely aboard the Mirage, Ossanlin turns, firing behind himself as he runs for the ramp an dives into the camouflage. He stands and runs up the ramp, pushing the manual access panel to close it.
<<Leskel, we're all aboard, get us out of here!>>
~
NARRATION
The Mirage lifts off from the landing pad, Shredder fire still lancing out towards where it had been. As the Mirage glides seamlessly through the camouflage field around the facility, it disappears from view and the loaded yacht leaves the thin atmosphere of the moon smoothly, the viewports showing the blue-green gas-giant planet to good effect as the Mirage makes its way toward a point where it can enter Z-Space.
~
Ossanlin looks around the cabin...everyone had made it. Everyone was safe...it was time to let them know...
"Please do not be alarmed..." He says in Galard.
<We are not who you think we are. I am Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel...no-longer a member of the Andalite military. We have gone against the Electorate in our acts today...and we do not plan upon returning. We have become Rogues, and we have done so because of what they have done to you.>
Ossanlin begins to demorph. The changes somewhat slow due to having done so much of it so recently. When he's back in his own body, he regards the hosts evenly. <Some of you do not know me. I do not expect your trust until it is earned. Perhaps Tara can allay your doubts...she knows me rather well. But if you'll permit me, I must prepare the pool for your controllers.>
He picks up Aurellia's pack and steps toward the med-bay before turning and to look at Mike with his main eyes. <Oh...and Efaen-Purinial-Serfit...you should demorph if you wish to continue living.> She probably hadn't even known it was him. He can only imagine what she thinks of that little revelation.
~
Aurellia drops her pack on the deck and begins to demorph as well, the changes smooth and quick for her. She nods as well as her Prince picks it up.
~
Ossanlin proceeds to the med-bay and stops as one of the hosts is lying on the low support gurney. <She is ill?> He immediately commands the stasis field to arm and she lifts from the hard surface on a cushion she would barely be able to feel, floating supported above the gurney.
He picks up the case in his free hand and moves to the other gurney which is currently supporting very large metallic bowl. He commands the stasis field to lift and heat it to a comfortable temperature, and then uses a small surgical hose and begins to fill it with sterile water. he pulls a few mineral packets out of one of the bricks in Aurellia's pack and adds them to mix in as the pool fills. Once it's up to a decent depth, he pulls several portable kandrona generators from the pack and activates them, setting them in the fluid. He opens the case and begins the process of opening each cell and allowing the Yeerks inside each to slide unceremoniously into the filling pool. He places the empty cells back into the case and sets it in an unneeded corner before turning to regard the hovering human female again.
<I'm familiar with human anatomy, but not enough so to perform medical procedures of any complexity, I'm afraid...> He regards the male by her side. <Do you know what is wrong? She appears unharmed, though obviously gravid.>
-
<This is Efaen!?> Claxter said as he put her down in the med bay. How long had Ossanlin known that? Why had she morphed Mike? Questions ran through his head, but right now he had to make sure she maintained consciousness long enough to demorph. He grabbed some stimulant, and injected it into her, as she looked half conscious as it was. He began demorphing.
<Efaen? Can you hear me? It's Claxter. You're safe now. Just try to demorph.>
He noticed Ossanlin talking about the Human woman. <Sir, I think she's pregnant. Given how large her stomach is, as well as a few other details, it reminds me of when my aunt was pregnant. I don't know how close she is to giving birth, or exactly what to do.>
-
Esarvit sets his remaining supplies down by the others before demorphing at last, pacing silently as he recovers his balance.
-
Tess stares at Chris in shock as it is revealed to them who their rescuers truly are. By the time Ossanlin approaches her, however, the surprise has worn off, sharpened into irritation by his and Claxter's words regarding her. She yelps in surprise at the sudden change in her elevation, reaching out for something to cling to until she realizes she is stable. Then she just settles for searching for Chris's hand with her own.
"I'm right here," she protests breathlessly as they speak of her. "You don't have to talk over me." She turns her dark-eyed gaze on Claxter. "And yes, I'm pregnant, well spotted." Sighing, Tess leans her head back and closes her eyes. "The contractions stopped, so I think I'm okay. I just need to rest."
Then she cracks open one eye, favoring Ossanlin with the smallest of smiles. "Thanks for this. You wouldn't happen to know if a Yeerk named Keslin is here?"
Daniel sighs, letting go of Efaen and straightening. He seems to know that, with the myriad of cheerleaders the Andalite suddenly has, he's just in the way. Making his way towards Terenia, he puts a hand on her shoulder again. "This isn't a good place for you. Let's see if we can find a quieter corner, alright?" he murmurs.
-
<Sorry ma'am.> He said, feeling embarassed. The woman could have just said what was wrong without him speculating. He turned his attention back to Efaen. He hoped she remembered him, and would be happy to see him. Though the most important thing was that she was ok.
-
Chris hovers near Tess the entire time, clinging to her hand. A chill goes through him when the Andalite introduces himself. The name Ossanlin is familiar, though he has never met the Andalite personally. The familiarity does nothing to ease the anxiety that twists his stomach, though. From one trap into another, he cannot help but think.
"Give her space," he demands of Ossanlin and Claxter. "She'll be fine."
He leans over and kisses her forehead. "It's alright, my dear," he murmurs. "We're safe now. You can pummel them later, alright?" He sighs, hoping that they truly are safe.
Dom's eyes narrow imperceptibly when Ossanlin reveals himself and he looks at Niko uneasily. "I do not like this," he murmurs under his breath.
Terenia allows herself to be tugged by Daniel, her free hand still covering her mouth, still torn between crying and throwing up at the injured imposter. "I'm going to kill her," she says, repeating her words from earlier. They come out half a sob, though, and she finds herself clinging to Daniel as he directs her away.
There is a sudden tumbling sensation, and Keslin mentally winces as he is upended from his cell. He can sense dry air around him for a brief moment, then abruptly he is immersed in liquid once more. Kandrona! His half starved body stretches out, relief flooding his system at the return of the nutrients his body has been denied.
He does not remain idle for long, though. The thought-speak voice had announced itself a friend, and the name is familiar. A little spur of hope shoots through him when Ossanlin mentions Tara's name. If Tara is here... He begins sending out little ultrasonic chirps. <Myitt? Who is here?> He can sense other Yeerk bodies being added to the pool in the same unceremonious fashion, and he swims as fast as his small body can, trying to discern who is in this new prison with him.
In her haze of pain Efaen barely registers the thought-speak voices, let alone the spoken voices. The one word that does manage to stick, however, is the most important one. Demorph. She takes in a deep, shuddering breath, a wordless cry of agony escaping her as the fire seems to lace its way up the mangled leg. Demorph, Efaen. Focus. It takes all of her remaining mental strength, but eventually the changes begin.
Her natural talent at morphing helps the process along and soon the white hot pain is a dull throb, and then it disappears entirely as thin, strong Andalite legs replace those of her morph. Once the injury has been taken care of the rest of the demorph follows quickly, and she backs away from the group so that she will not harm them with her tail as it emerges.
When the morph is finally complete she stands there, all four of her eyes focused forward, uneasy and uncertain what to say. Now healed, the thought-speak voices come back to her and she blinks her main eyes in slow surprise. <Prince Ossanlin,> she says, turning one stalk to face him as he works on the Yeerk pool. <If I knew you were responsible for this I may not have bothered trying to escape. You're not going to send me back again, are you?>
-
Claxter caught what Terenia said, but did nothing. The last time he had killed someone in front of Ossanlin, he had been reprimanded. Though it would be quite easy for him to whip his tail and send her head rolling on the floor. That wouldn't really accomplish anything good at the moment though. Her allies were armed, and would surely react negatively to her death. <Too bad Enorryma didn't just leave you where you were, filth.> He said.
<You only went there in the first place because you wanted to, Efaen.> He said. He couldn't say Ossanlin would definitely not send her back, though he wasn't sure there was any "back" to go to. <If you didn't want to go back, why would you try to escape with rebels in the first place? Surely you didn't think we were Imperials, and that would be better than being with the rebels or on the homeworld.>
-
Terenia stiffens at Claxter's words, her hand tightening in Daniel's as she halts her progression out of the room. Slowly, she turns to face him, fresh tears tracking down her face. For a long moment she says nothing, though it is clear from her expression that she has more than a few things to say to the young Andalite warrior. In the end, though, she just drops her gaze. "She should have," she says quietly, a tremble running through her.
Efaen turns her attention to Claxter. <Not back with the rebels,> she says blandly. <I do not want to go back to the Andalites. I thought this mission was being carried out by rebels. If I knew Andalites had been involved...> She returns her attention to Ossanlin. <If it's true that you defected, you can't alert the Electorate to my presence here, right? Right?>
-
Daniel's eyes narrow protectively as he turns with Terenia. "No," he puts up a hand to halt her from saying more, and then fixes his gaze on Claxter. "**** off," he growls. "You've got no right to say that kind of thing to her. You have no idea what she's endured."
Tess squeezes Chris's hand tightly, looking to Ossanlin for his answer regarding Keslin. "Alright," she whispers to Chris, her forehead wrinkled with her residual worry.
-
<Several Yeerks were rescued. I'm afraid I didn't look closely enough at the files to see the names each claimed, I know only that each one rescued had an apprehension date that matched the date of attack upon the Rebellion. If you were infested when caught, it is a safe assumption that your controller is swimming around in that pool.> He indicates the large metallic bowl floating at a slightly lower level than Tess herself.
Ossanlin fixes Claxter with a stern look. <Stop backbiting...I wouldn't have left her there in any case. We, none of us, gain nothing by being hostile. Her threats are empty at this point in any case. If I must confiscate weapons...> He nods to Chris and walks back out into the main room, favoring the whole group with his main eyes. <...I will. I understand that all of you are in pain. I'm sure you've all lost someone important to you, perhaps many that were important to you. Use this time to grieve, not to be hostile. Like it or not, we're your way out of here, and I refuse to dispatch anyone...so we're all going to have to get along. I realize there's not much room in the Mirage...there will be more once we rendezvous with the Tyrennian. None of us,> he gestures around the room, indicating the Andalites, <have any home to go back to either. As far as the Electorate is concerned, we're all dead and the Tyrennian along with us. If they found out we're still alive, we'd all be regarded as traitors.>
<So everyone just calm down.> He glances at Efaen. <You won't be going anywhere. You're stuck with us whether you like it or not. You already have too much knowledge to be sent back. Besides which, you disappeared with the Yeerks who assaulted the facility. Combine that with our inside knowledge of the facility, your known sympathies, and your access to said information about the facility, and the blame for the traitorous act of releasing confidential information to Yeerks will be laid solidly at your hooves. You won't be considered dead, you'll be considered a traitor despite your unknown status.>
<We're all going to have to live together for some time at least...so you all need to put aside your animosities, and we'll do the same.>
-
<I know enough-> Claxter started to say before Ossanlin interrupted him. <Yes sir.> He said.
<So I take it you enjoyed your time with the rebels? Make any friends?> He asked Efaen genuinely. It had been a year or more for her, and if she still didn't want to return to the Andalites, she must have had some positive experiences at the base. Now that he was with her again, doing what he did was worth it.
-
Ossanlin glances back at Claxter with a stalk eye. <<She won't remember you, or anything about herself before the base. They wiped her memory after she released Barium into their pool and killed several un-hosted rebels. She's a different person than she once was.>>
-
Claxter didn't know what to say to that. Oh he knew what he'd like to do, but it wouldn't really matter. She didn't remember him? How he saved her? Their time together? <<She remembers you. What does she know, exactly?>> It didn't really change his feelings for her. He could still be there for her. Fill in the blanks.
-
Chris' fingers tighten a little during Ossanlin's speech to the group of them, though he keeps his expression relatively impassive. He has spent enough years in a leadership role to know when someone is putting themselves in charge. He knows he owes them his life, as well as Tess' and his unborn children, but the idea of putting his full faith behind an Andalite makes him incredibly uncomfortable.
"Keslin," he murmurs. He pulls away from Tess ever so slightly, looking over at the pool. The Yeerks are almost identical to his human eye, but just knowing that his oldest friend might be mere feet away makes things better.
Terenia stops talking at Daniel's request. She turns away, dropping her gaze. "I need to sit down," she whispers to him in a flat, dull voice.
Efaen stares at Claxter. <I'm sorry, do I know you?> she asks, her thought-speak sounding a little petulant. Her main eyes shift around the room once more and, uncomfortable, she begins to morph again. It becomes quickly apparent that the morph is human, though it is not the form of Mike. This morph is slighter, more feminine. It has the same dark hair that Mike has, though it is frizzy and curly. Her eyes are gray and her stature in this morph is quite short.
As she morphs she keeps her gaze on Claxter, head tilted curiously.
-
<I heard you got your memories erased because you did something you shouldn't have. I don't know how much you know anymore, but we met at a bar. I got you away from Terenia when she was still a Yeerk who enslaved you. It was at a place called the Galaxy's Edge Space Bar, and we had some nice moments together. Then she convinced you to go with her in an effort to keep you as her host, though you convinced Reven to allow you to join the rebellion without becoming a controller.>
<My name is Claxter, and I'm your friend. I followed Ossanlin mainly to come find you, and now that I have I'd like to continue being your friend. If you don't mind.>
-
Efaen shakes her head, the onslaught of information overwhelming her. "You are an Andalite," she says aloud, preferring the spoken word to thought-speak. "What's more, you say you were her friend -- the me that I once was. Anyone who befriended that person is not someone I wish to be friends with now." She scoots, almost unconsciously, towards Tara and the other rebels. "These are my friends. Ossanlin took me away from them."
-
Ossanlin glances back at Claxter again. <<Her memories of me are only those that post-date her time with the Rebellion. I removed her to avoid her death at the hands of rebels, and to attempt to preserve the careful balance of peace between the Rebellion and the Electorate.>> He directs the private thought to both Claxter and Efaen.
-
She really was a different person now. <I don't know what happened with you after you left. It was a year at the base, but one days at the bar, due to the strangeness of the place. I hope I haven't put you off too much. As long as you're happy, I'm happy.> He thought perhaps he should leave, but he didn't really have anything else to do. <I promise I won't harm you, or bother you if you don't want to be bothered. It's good you don't still think of all Yeerks as evil people. You seemed so convinced before. I guess I could have turned out the same way if I hadn't run off.>
<<So she doesn't even know you took her away to keep her from being killed? If she's all buddies with them now, why does Terenia still want to kill her? Besides Terenia just being insane?>>
-
Joanne listens as Ossanlin makes his speech about friendship and togetherness. After speaking with the Hork-Bajir, that's about what she expected. I get 'is point, but this whole thing's a problem. The rebels an' me don' exactly get along. I'll help 'em, but who knows if they'll help me. I was wanted already--as soon as I find out where Kess is, we'll stick around until we get a ship and then blow this sorry boat. Joanne stands watching until Ossanlin finishes, and then continues to wade through the crowd of rebels uneasily. ....oh, mother. One of them's the chick she tried to kill at the Space Bar. Hard to forget that face, too. This day was just getting better and better. The only rational one's been dragged off to the med bay and the others she knows were at one point lined up in the sight of her Dracon.
Joanne finally locates the only person she stands a chance of talking to in the crowd: Tara herself. Terrified, exhausted, breathing with some difficulty after the sprint. Joanne wasn't even winded from the effort, and none of her friends are dead. Joanne glances off, her posture wavering. ...what could she possibly say, now that she'd spotted the human? She couldn't really relate to how Tara was feeling. More than two-thirds of the rebellion was gone. Myitt was in a tank somewhere, probably. Their rescuer was Ossanlin.
"Um...hey," states Joanne in an awkward, timid voice very much unlike her usual tone. "Do...d'ya know if they got Kess out? ........dammit...."
Well that came out exactly as wrong as she thought it would.
*****************************************************************************************************************************************
Keshin feels a peculiar falling sensation and tumbles into....Kandrona. Keshin swims around in glee, no words for the pleasure of being submerged in the warm water he travels in now. He ecolocates into the pool and senses the presence of other Yeerks falling into it. His kin! ...he still has no idea what is happening, but events are exactly as the previous voice some time earlier had promised. They are allowed to feed.
Keshin sends a quick ping into the water. <This is Keshin, the turelek. I was captured with the rebellion. Who else is here? Myitt? Corliss?>
-
"The Yeerks here attempted to give me a home. They gave me a second chance, despite the atrocities I committed," Efaen says levelly. "That is a chance no Andalite ever gave me. Ossanlin ripped me from my people. The Electorate shuttled me to some remote place on the Homeworld, calling me a vecol. The Electorate separated me from my Yeerk. If there is any people that can be considered evil, it is the Andalites, not the Yeerks."
Terenia's progression is again halted, but this time it isn't by Claxter's words. Her eyes land on a familiar face she had never expected to see. "Daniel," she says in a whisper, eyes widening, then narrowing as she eyes the host of the turelek that nearly killed her. "Daniel, it's Joanne. Joanne and Keshin." She shakes her head. "I need to go. I can't be in here."
-
<Why did they call you a vecol? It was my understanding that the military wouldn't let you advance as far as you should because you were female. What made you decide to take a Yeerk voluntarily, and what is their name?> He wasn't really angered or anything that she had been infested. Though it sounded like they had messed with her mind and brainwashed her. He just needed more information to know how to react to such a thing. It was becoming clear that this Efaen was not his Efaen, but he couldn't just turn off his feelings. she had been wronged, but the more serious wrong was from Terenia.
<Given recent events, I won't deny your accusations that the electorate is bad. They are racist, and a lot of what our people touch goes wrong. There is no black and white in this war. Both sides are stained by atrocities. We just have to judge people by what they do. Not what they are.>
-
"What does his name matter?" Efaen asks, scoffing. "Are you going to go and retrieve him for me?"
Scowling, she stays nearer to the rebels than the Andalites, more comfortable in their human company than that of her own kind. "I don't know anything about my time in the military before," she continues. "All I know is that when Prince Ossanlin forced me to return to your Homeworld I asked them to allow me to rejoin the military. They refused. The wipe of my memories was enough for them to consider me a vecol -- handicapped mentally to the point that they did not believe I could function in Andalite society."
-
<No, I'm not going to go rescue your friend. I merely asked because I'd like to know more about you and your friends. I'm sorry that you lost people you cared about. I don't know if your friends are mainly your friends because they wiped your memory and turned you into a new person. It may not really matter, as long as you manage to live a productive and happy life of your own free will. I do hope that we can be friends, and that you won't go from considering one whole race of being evil to just believing another whole race of being evil. That's still the same racist generalizing problem as before.>
<You know, you kind of remind me of an Andalite named Aliciania. She felt more Human than Andalite too, and liked to hang out with Myitt.>
-
Enorryma had actively avoided the interactions between the humans and the rogue Andalite crew, staying near the edge of the room but within responsive distance of Ossanlin. She demorphed, a process which was altogether slower than she liked, but a relief all the same. Once she had recovered her own body and deposited the compression pack with the other packs, she busied herself with restoring her sidearm to its standard settings, removing the Dracon-style lens array and replacing it with its standard Shredder lens. Having that last detail sorted out, she finally felt properly herself again, and she looked to Ossanlin for orders.
He seemed preoccupied with diffusing some sort of conflict between them, but none of these people were familiar to Enorryma, and the interactions between them were all but meaningless to her. As far as she was concerned, none of them had attempted to attack the crew, despite being armed, and none of them was currently infested, so the situation was as safe as it was going to get, for the moment. Socializing was not Enorryma's area of expertise, by anybody's estimation, and the emotional landscape of this group was a complex wilderness of trauma, hostilities, allegiance, distrust, and relieved reunion. Norry was profoundly uncomfortable, as though she had walked in on something private and intimate and entirely none of her business. The tension and adrenaline of the mission she understood, and the warm hum of a Shredder, and the yoke of a ship in her hands. Yoke of a ship...
<<Sir, with your permission, I will retire to the bridge and see if Leskel would like another hand at the helm... unless I am needed here, of course.>>
-
Ossanlin trots over to Enorryma. He wants his own swords back...but his gear had been left with the Tyrennian. For now, he'll just have to deal with having an unfamiliar Dracon at his waist. The belt feels a bit off, but that situation can be dealt with...it's not as if he plans on being in any more combat. <<If you should so desire, Enorryma. There are no fighters stationed at that base, and they wouldn't be able to find us if there were, so it will probably be somewhat boring for you.>> He smiles good-naturedly. He understands the itch she has, if not the intensity. She'd been a fighter pilot for a much longer than he. Slaedreth was barely remembered anymore, but Vanarx was still a legend last he heard from the Academy. <<I'm sure Leskel won't mind. He's probably still working on plotting the Z-Space jump.>>
-
<<Thank you, Sir.>> She backed away a few steps before turning and heading into the bridge. She approached the control panels and greeted Leskel with a nod, otherwise leaving him to work on plotting the jump. She looked at the various readouts on the ship's telemetry and avionics, which gave details on everything from internal life support settings and power outputs to the richness of the emergency fuel mixture. It was both simpler and more complex than a fighter vessel, on so many levels. A fighter would have several fewer instruments giving life support readouts, but it would also have significantly more indicators on the HUD for positional data and weapons systems.
There was something pleasantly meditative about simply observing and reading the various metrics, understanding the breath and pulse of this larger vessel. When she had been much younger, she had imagined that she could feel the movement of a ship through space. Now, she intellectually understood the ridiculousness of that notion, but she still couldn't completely shake then sensation that the ship had its own signs of movement, even if wind and inertia and noise did not exist to mark their travel through space. In its own insentient way, the ship was alive, for her, with all the beauty and intricacy of a live organism.
-
Tara staggers away from Efaen as she starts to demorph, melting and contorting Mike's familiar body. She puts a hand to her mouth, her stomach unsure whether to steel itself or simply give up and be sick.
When Ossanlin mentions her name, she tears her gaze from Efaen's shifting form, looking around at the others.
Surely they would want an explanation? But as much as she trusted Ossanlin, she had little idea of his own motives, other than his fast friendship with herself and Myitt.
Tara stands by Daniel and Terenia, stiffening in anger at Claxter's harsh words. Daniel says everything she needs to say, though she bites back a few more choice words, too taken aback to have a quick comeback in Terenia's defense. Too tired and weary with grief to do much other than stay on her feet.
She swallows hard, watching Ossanlin trot to the med bay, wanting to avoid the questions and in return get some solid answers. The idea of staying in close proximity to Efaen makes her dizzy, as well.
So much, so unrelenting. Tara presses a hand against her forehead to try and stave off the numbness.
As if she had read her mind, Joanne approaches her. Tara starts, stepping back from the bounty hunter's familiar face.
"I don't know who...I don't know," she stammers.
She looks to Ossanlin when he returns, clearing her throat. "The pool you've set up," she croaks, fear clutching her heart. "Is there some way we can set up a poolside communications link? We need to figure out who we still have."
Niko nods at Dom, unconsciously taking the man's hand, simply out of a need for comfort.
"Do you think they've at least picked up Reyliss?" he asks quietly, craning his neck to try and see Ossanlin as he works in the med bay.
Myitt's body floods with the sweet relief of Kandrona, but she has little time to revel in it.
Ultrasonic chirps hit her from several sides, squeaks that clearly ask for her by name. One was quite familiar, and the other...
<<Keshin,>> Myitt says flatly, terse. She shirks away from the turelek, nearly bumping into Keslin. She squeaks in surprise.
<<Who else is here?>> she asks them both, in an unintentional echo of her human friend. <<Ossanlin. He will have risked everything to do this.>>
A new voice, older, sophisticated, pipes up.
<<I never quite realized how deep your allegiances to the Andalite military lay, Myitt,>> says Lanath thoughtfully. If the rush of Kandrona rejuvenation has affected him, his tone is no indication.
-
Ossanlin moves his main eyes to Tara. <I'm sorry, Tara. I do not have the parts available to set up such a machine on the Mirage.> He pauses a moment, thinking to himself. <Strike that...each of the Yeerk cells has an interface hooked into a recording chip...I suppose it might be possible to review the contents of a chip at a time. Perhaps we could strip an interface unit from a cell and place it into the pool. I would be able to convey speech with thought of course, one of the Yeerks would then be able to interface and record a message to the chip that we could review. I'm afraid the interface wouldn't be fluid, not without significant engineering modifications at least. But it is something.>
He commands the side viewports open, to make the room feel a little less crowded. The stars outside suddenly seem to bend and flex before accelerating into streaks that eventually leave the ship's surroundings white. <Z-Space...good.> He returns his main eyes to Tara. <If you must know immediately, I suppose we can proceed with that operation. It shouldn't be long before they've fed fully...I placed several portable kandrona generators in the pool to offset the onset of starvation sickness.>
He addresses the others of his crew on the deck. <<Keep an eye on things, alert me to any signs of danger.>>
He sees some amount of desperation in Tara's eyes, though, so he makes his way back into the medbay, once again glancing at the two humans, the female still suspended. <You look as though you have improved.>
He pulls the case from the corner and extracts a cell. He places it on the small instrument table that is mounted opposite the foot of the gurney. He removes a laser scalpel from the surgical kit and begins to cut through the casing of the cell.
-
Daniel looks up to regard Joanne, his expression darkening, and then he nods to Terenia. He makes a motion with his head to indicate to Tara he is moving deeper into the ship, farther away from Joanne and Efaen and any other offensive passengers. With that, he keeps his arm around Terenia's shoulders and steers her into a quieter section of the small ship's crew quarters. Watching her levelly, he murmurs, "I've got no idea how all these people ended up in the same place. Never thought I'd see Efaen again. But... you're sure it's her? The bounty hunter, I mean?"
Tess turns her head to watch Ossanlin. "Fine," she replies, still reserved, not knowing who to trust beyond her friends. As she watches him, a jot of fear runs through her that he might be hurting the Yeerks in the pool, even after the bold recue attempt. Her eyes narrow protectively. "What are you doing?"
She glances up at Chris. "Do you think you could recognize him? Any of them? I might be able to, after all that time on our own."
-
Ossanlin nods as Tess responds that she's fine, and continues with his work, stripping the outer casing away from the cell. <I'm dissecting one of the cells that your Yeerks were being kept in. Tara is quite desperate to initiate two-way contact with them, even though they will be done feeding in a fairly short amount of time.> He keeps a stalk eye on Tess and the male. <The cells have communication-recorders in them. By removing the recording unit and placing the leads into the pool, the Yeerks inside will be able to record messages to the data-chip, which we can then interface with the Mirage's computer to play back. Communication can be achieved the other way through thought-speech. It's imperfect and inefficient, but it would take longer to develop it into a fluid interface than is necessary for the Yeerks to finish feeding.>
He begins to delicately remove the metallic communication leads from their living-metal brackets, careful to maintain the nano-circuitry that connects them with the data-recording assembly.
-
<<Myitt?>> Keslin asks, his palps brushing against hers, trembling with relief. Then, a moment later, <<Lanath! Thank the Kandrona. How many of our people are here? Has anyone spoken to Reven?>>
Even as he speaks to Myitt and Lanath he twists in the liquid, seeking out any other survivors.
Dom swallows, then shakes his head. "She was feeding," he whispers, his voice catching suddenly. "I--I did not have the chance to get to the pool."
"I don't know, Tess," he murmurs, looking from Yeerk to Yeerk, trying to spot Keslin. "They're swimming around like crazy, though. Poor guys probably have no idea what's going on."
Chris looks up at Ossanlin when he approaches Tess. "Listen, Andalite," he says, not even bothering to try and pronounce the alien name. "Tess is...she's very pregnant, as I'm sure you can tell. We're going to need a doctor at some point." He keeps a firm grip on Tess' hand, giving her what he hopes is an encouraging smile, though he feels shaky.
Terenia takes a few shaky gulps of air and nods. "I think I can remember the person who shot my ****ing arm off," she says. Despite her words there is no heat to her voice. She looks like she is on the verge of collapsing, the events since her release from the Andalite prison too much for her to process. She falls back against the wall, staring at Daniel with a lost expression.
Efaen stares at Claxter with wide gray eyes, only partially comprehending his tirade. "How could I be happy?" she asks, grasping at the word. "I'm no fool. The rebels took my memories and the Andalites shunned me as a vecol. At least the rebels attempted to accept me, but Ossanlin took that from me." She frowns, looking away from the male Andalite, uncomfortable with his continued interest in her. "Don't you have some honorable duty to be about, Andalite?" she asks sharply.
-
"Thank you, Ossanlin," Tara whispers, hoping she can convey the gravity of that phrase, clasping his thin hand briefly before moving off toward her husband, her eyes shining with sudden, long held tears.
She numbly follows Daniel and Terenia, glad that Daniel senses her powerful desire to get away from the others. To hide in a ball somewhere and cry, really, but there was no time for that. Not now. Hastily, irritably, she sniffles and wipes at her eyes with both hands.
Tromping up to Terenia, she presses her back against the wall, mirroring her friend.
A tremulous sigh escapes her, and she presses her palms flat against the cold metal surface against which she is resting.
"****," she chokes, tears springing to her red-rimmed eyes once more, as she looks up at Daniel.
<<There aren't many of us, that much is certain,>> Lanath murmurs, grieving in his own quiet, stilted way.
Myitt chirps in relief. <<Keslin,>> she breathes, brushing against her friend. <<And Lanath. Oh...Keslin.>> The mention of her brother, Reven, makes her slide against Keslin's side, desperate for comfort.
She is still at his side when she clicks the words that she has been loath to admit aloud. <<He didn't make it, Keslin.>> Her small gray body shivers in overwhelming grief.
Niko squeezes Dom's hand, his expression pained, dark eyebrows furrowed.
"Oh, Dom," he murmurs. "I'm so...so sorry. You don't think...maybe she and Gene...? Kellim? Someone? Is it too much to hope we haven't lost every ****ing person we love?"
-
Ossanlin frees the data-recording assembly from the rest of the cell and uses a pair of medical splints to stabilize the assembly. He trots over to the field control panel for the pool's gurney and raises a small portion of the field to support the recording assembly just above the pool's rim in a firm, stable hold. He submerses the interface assembly under the surface of the liquid.
<I have submerged an interface assembly into the pool. It will record responses which we will then play back for communication. I know you are all grieving, but Tara has requested to know who is in the pool. She's rather distraught. If one of you could transmit the identities of those present, I will relay that information.>
He glances over at Chris. <My name is Ossanlin, not Andalite. And if she experiences labor...I can assist as long as there aren't any complications. I know of no-one more-versed on Human anatomy who's capable of running this medical suite. If any of your companions has medical training, I could work in tandem with them to achieve better results...>
~
Leskel looks behind himself as Enorryma climbs the stairs up to the flight-deck. <Hello, sir.> He salutes. <I've just finished the Z-space calculations...woul d you care to do the honors?> He gestures to a panel touch-field currently fading in and out with the word "Z-Jump" on it.
-
<I'm sorry that you're having a rough time, but it looks like you're still having the same problem that you were before. You're taking a whole species, lumping them together, and calling them bad. You're just doing it with Andalites now, instead of Yeerks. You should work on that, and you'll make mor friends. If you have friends to be by your side, that's about as much happiness as it is possible to have in this war where both sides are trying to destroy each other and working for corrupt governments.>
<Now you were working under Prince Ossanlin. Then you did something without his permission that caused the rebels to have your mind wiped and infested, which was likely also against his will. His taking you out of that seems justified, though if you'd like to tell your side of the story, I would listen.>
<What duty is there that's more honorable than ensuring someone you care about really is being looked after and taken care of? One of the rebels dragged you to the ship when you were shot, so that's a good sign. Even if he didn't have the energy to get you to the med bay.>
-
Tess nods slowly to Chris, though she doesn't stop wishing she could get in contact with the Yeerks in the pool any faster in order to determine if Keslin and her friends have been rescued. Her heart pangs in fear that they might have left someone behind.
Bracing herself with both hands, Tess swallows back her worries into her stomach, which twists uncomfortably and sits up. "This isn't exactly what I'd bargained for," she remarks to Chris with a small, sad smile, one hand going to her stomach. "I haven't seen anyone who works in the medical bay here... and it wasn't as if we exactly had any trained obstetricians, even on base." She licks her dry lips and gives a shaky smile. "But it'll be alright. I mean, it has to be, right?"
Daniel gives Terenia an apologetic nod. "Dumb question, sorry," he mumbles, but his attention is drawn to Tara at her entrance.
"What is it?" he asks, reaching out to touch her shoulder. His forehead is wrinkled. "Did you learn something new?"
-
Lanath, uncomfortably hanging about while Myitt and Keslin grieve, scrunch-thrusts to the waiting transponder recorder device.
<<This is Lanath One-Four-Eight,>> he clicks. <<So far we have counted three additional Yeerks: Keslin Five-Seven-Four, Myitt One-Nine-Five, and a bounty hunter named Keshin. There is at least one other Yeerk in this pool, although he has not named himself.>> He withdraws his palps, waiting anxiously.
"They're going to check and see which of our Yeerks are still here, with us," Tara murmurs waveringly to Daniel, pressing her sweaty palms against the cold metal wall.
She glances at Terenia. "That ****er, I can't believe he'd say that **** to you. After everything we've ****ing been through." A trembling hand curls into a fist and pounds, once, at the wall.
-
Ossanlin watches as a Yeerk interfaces with the nodes. When the Yeerk withdraws, Ossanlin removes the data-chip and instead of placing it into a drive on the Mirage, he interfaces it with his ARC. The ARC sends the recorded, translated pulses to him in a private thought-speech, and he controls his relief at hearing Myitt identified. He'd been sure she was one of those since Tara had been at the facility...but he hadn't realized how tense he'd been about it until the confirmation. He sends a broad thought-speech "loud" enough for the entire ship to hear.
<There are at least five Yeerks in the pool. Confirmed identities include...Lanath one-four-eight...Keslin five-seven-four...Myitt one-nine-five...and Keshin five-two-three. There is at least one more who has not identified himself. This is all the information I have at present.>
Ossanlin places the recording chip back into the assembly and speaks to the Yeerks in the pool again. <Thank you, Lanath. It would be helpful if you could all identify yourselves...we have several hosts out here hoping to hear from you.>
-
<<Myitt?>> comes a dazed-sounding click from the edge of the pool. Illim woozily makes his way towards the group of Yeerks; it seems the rough ride has not treated him well.
Daniel looks up at Ossanlin's announcement. "Myitt," he whispers in relief, taking a step towards the pool, but then stopping as he looks back at Terenia. He doesn't voice his thoughts, but he looks uncomfortable.
Tess's eyes widen as Ossanlin lists Keslin's names, among their other friends'--and a name she does not know at all. "Kes," she whispers to Chris. Sagging against him in relief, she reaches around to put an arm around him. "Thank god," Tess breathes, shaking her head. "I was so worried he hadn't made it."
-
<<What?>> Keslin asks, drawing back in horror. <<No, that...that can't be...>> His chirps fade into silence as the weight of Reven and James' death hits him. His palps droop with the weight of grief and he drifts away a little.
"Keslin," Chris breathes, looking down at the pool. He swallows. "They need time to feed," he says, sounding as if he is convincing himself more than anything else. He is fairly desperate to get his friend back, but he settles for squeezing Tess' hand.
Terenia doesn't respond to Tara or Daniel, sliding down the wall to the floor, looping her arms over her knees and staring at the ground. She isn't crying anymore. Nor is she doing much of anything.
Efaen stares at Claxter. "I don't care about honor," she says flatly. "I was being sarcastic. I don't give a **** about who you were to me before the memory wipe. That person didn't deserve friends, and if you associated with her I do not want to associate with you."
-
Myitt moves toward Keslin again, to console him, but she twists in the water at Illim's voice.
<<You're alive,>> she breathes, swimming to Illim's side and brushing against him in relief. <<Lanath, someone, tell them that Illim is here. Is there anyone else?>>
<<Not to the best of my determination,>> Lanath says stiltedly, scrunch-thrusting back to the transponder. <<War-Prince Ossanlin, or whomever else receives this message, the Yeerk is Illim Seven-One-Eight. Could you kindly tell us who among our human friends is alive and with us?>>
"I knew he wouldn't leave Myitt behind," Tara sighs, pacing away from the wall and from Terenia, intertwining her fingers with Daniel's. "Daniel." She squeezes his hand. "Reven and James are gone, I don't know where Corliss and Mike are, I...I don't know how we can possibly begin to inventory the dead."
-
Ossanlin watches as Lanath once again finds his way to the interface. After he disconnects, Ossanlin once again removes the chip and interfaces it with his ARC, listening to the translated "voice" of Lanath. <Another confirmed identity in the Yeerk pool...Illim Seven-One-Eight. Tara, if you have a moment, would you join me at the pool please? Lanath has requested the identities of the humans present. I do not know most of your names.>
He glances at the murky surface of the pool. <Of those I know, there are Tara and Terenia. I do not know the rest of the names present, I have asked Tara to join me poolside to assist with that task.> He places the chip back into the recording apparatus.
-
<I know you were being sarcastic. Who told you that the old you didn't deserve friends? Why are they your friends now? I didn't like that the old Efaen was speciesist, but that didn't make her a complete monster. She was speciesist against Yeerks, and I assume you're aware of what most Yeerks are like. Now you're still apparently speciesist, since you dislike me just for being an Andalite. Did they say it's ok to do that as long as it wasn't against rebels? I said I was your friend, but that doesn't mean we spent time talking about how we hated the Yeerks.>
<We talked about how neither one of us was the kind of warrior the military wanted. We talked about each other and ourselves.>
-
Efaen licks her lips, looking a little uncertain. "I don't know who that 'myself' was," she says in a quieter voice. "The person you befriended is gone. And she--she committed terrible acts of terrorism against the rebels. She destroyed large numbers of them when they were helpless just because of what they are." She inspects Claxter cautiously. "I do not hate all Andalites. There is at least one Andalite I consider my comrade, if not my friend. I just do not trust them easily, considering how I have been treated since Ossanlin took me from my home."
Terenia looks up long enough to watch Daniel and Tara head towards the pool, then she drops her gaze again, eyes on her knees as she sits against the wall, expression blank.
Keslin says nothing for a long moment, lost in the shock of Reven's death. Finally, though, he moves forward again, trying to gather his wits. <<We need to organize,>> he squeaks. <<Figure out what is going on. Lanath, I--I need to make sure that Tess and Chris are okay, and then we need to come up with some sort of plan.>>
-
<I won't say what you did wasn't wrong, though I do wonder what happened in that year that would make you suddenly decide to mass murder the Yeerks. I understand if you can't answer those kinds of questions, but it's quite the mystery. Your original personal mission was to spy on them, and see if they were really just as bad as the empire, or worked for the Empire. I wonder what sort of information you might have come across. I thank you for talking to me, Efaen. I will leave you and go get some rest, assuming Prince Ossanlin has no current need for me.> He says, and leaves the room.
When he leaves, he looked at Daniel, the Human who had helped Efaen get to the ship. He wondered if he cared anything for Efaen, but didn't really feel like barraging him with questions right now. He took his gaze away, and walked to the flight deck for some quiet time.
When he entered, he gave a cordial nod to Leskel and Enorryma before finding a corner to close his eyes and relax.
-
Joanne nods nervously in response to Myitt's hurried, frightened reply. ....she didn't know. She didn't know anything. Kess could be dead or alive: the information was simply hanging in the air. Joanne bites her lip and clenches her fist tightly, trying to focus. Rebels. Freaks. Bounty hunters. The layabouts and cast-offs of society all gathered by an Andalite Prince of all people, quivering like pathetic shells of themselves. It was a nightmare. And what about Ossanlin? What had he risked in his warped little society to pull this rescue off? She hated to admit it, but thanks was in order. Joanne hated owing debts, let alone to someone she fought with.
Ossanlin picked that exact moment to assist Myitt in....ah. Trying to figure out the very question Joanne had wanted the answer to. Joanne couldn't help it: she followed the two of them to where they were going. She had to know. Kess's possible death felt like a weight on her chest. She attempted to keep herself far enough away that she looked like she understood that Myitt didn't really want her around. Nobody wants a bounty hunter right now. Don' bring nothin' but trouble. Joanne seems to drag her body along the ground instead of her usual fleet-footed steps, a fish out of water.
But then she hears it: Keshin's latest name. He was alive. Perfectly alive. A wide grin of relief breaks out on Joanne's face. Kess was okay and it wouldn't be long before the turelek was whole again.
*****************************************************************************************************************************************
Keshin drifts through the water, noting Lanath's transmissions to their rescuers but of course could not intercept them. It was frustrating. Keshin could not gauge what his next move would be if he had no idea where he was or what had happened in the first place. Not having a host for so long was an incredibly limiting experience.
<This is Keshin,> states Keshin in a ping sent to Lanath. <Do you know what happened yet? The identity of our benefactors?>
-
<<Apparently it is the young War-Prince Ossanlin,>> Lanath replies to Keshin, twisting in the pool to respond to him. <<A friend of Myitt's, though I am by no means close to him.>>
To Keslin he says, as gently as he can, <<Let me persuade these people to return us to our hosts. Surely they did not rescue us to keep us apart.>>
He swims to the newly replaced transponder and gently lays his palps against the metal interface.
<<When you have the identities confirmed,>> he tells the device, <<if you would please allow us to reunite with any of those who may know us? Our human friends?>>
He pulls back, waiting for the broad thought-speech reply.
Myitt stays next to Illim, unable to leave his side.
"Ah, yeah, Ossanlin, give me a sec," Tara calls, squeezing Daniel's hand and letting go reluctantly. She makes the short trip to the pool room in a daze.
At the sight of her friend in his natural form, Tara almost has the heart to smile, but it doesn't quite surface.
"So far we have...um...there's me, Daniel Feldstein, Terenia Rerin, Tess Franklin..." She pauses so Ossanlin can repeat if he needs to. "Chris O'Hearn." That name makes her swallow back a fresh lump of tears. "Um. Um...****." She presses a hand against her mouth, eyes shining. "Sorry. There are more. Dominic, Aya, I saw Niko...**** I can never pronounce his last name...and Joanne. Whatever her name is." Her expression sours from grief to irritation, but it is half-hearted. Tara LaFauci hugs her arms and nods at the floor. "I think that's it."
-
Ossanlin trots closer to the pool. <Tara has confirmed the following identities...Tara herself, of course...Daniel Feldstein, Terenia Rerin, Tess Franklin...> He pauses and continues as Tara does. <Chris O'Hearn...Dominic, Aya, Niko...and Joanne.>
Ossanlin turns and nods at Tara, noting the grief in her eyes. He lowers himself to his knees and, in a very un-Andalite gesture, wraps his arms around Tara's shoulders, hugging her gently. He can't explain why he's done it...it just seems like the right thing to do. <I am so sorry, Tara. I never wanted any of this to happen.> He closes his eyes for a moment before releasing Tara's shoulders and standing back up.
Ossanlin notes that Lanath has once again interfaced with the nodes. He pulls the data chip out and interfaces it with his ARC for a third time, listening to Lanath's message.
<If you feel that you have fed for long enough, you may be reunited with your hosts any time you desire.> He places the chip back into the assembly.
-
Enorryma stood quietly to one side while Leskel worked the ship's controls. Z-Space was visually lacking in landmarks, but the ship's readouts showed a different picture: a complex and contoured landscape with anomalous folding through multiple dimensions, visible on one of the screens as a curving topography projected onto a grid. This particular jump was taking them past a series of trans-dimensional folds which had a readout shaped similarly to an Andalite's ear.
Norry began to wonder if anybody else ever looked for shapes in the Z-Space topography, the way children would look for shapes in atmospheric clouds. The comparative lull after the mission left her contemplative, and she found herself glad that she had not used any of her stim capsules: she would have still been tense and craving to run, to fight, to do anything other than stand here and silently read pictures in the marshmallow-white void outside the ship. On a ship as small as the Mirage, that urge to move would force her to interact with the humans, and she did not feel ready for it.
-
After ten minutes or so, Claxter stirred again. He stretched, and looked around the room, and off into the whiteness of Z-Space. He walked over to look at the controls, which were a bit different from his fighter. <Does this ship feel much different to fly than a standard fighter, Leskel?> He asked, mildly curious. He took in all the screens and buttons, wondering how it would feel to fly it.
-
Enorryma blinked as Claxter approached, surprised that he was showing an interest in the ship's operation.
<Forgive me for interrupting, but if you would like me to give you a summary of the operation of this ship and how it differs from current fighter models, I would be happy to assist, and we would be able to leave Leskel to his work... unless he would like for me to take over the helm instead, of course.>
She swiveled her stalk eyes questioningly to Leskel. Z-Space navigation with large vessels demanded careful and attentive focus; while a smaller ship would have no trouble with dimensional folding, larger vessels' mass made for a much higher potential risk of emerging in the wrong location. Norry didn't think it likely that anybody would try to navigate Z-Space and hold a conversation simultaneously, when a bit of inattention could mean exiting Z-Space right next to a neutron star or in the gravity well of a red supergiant.
-
<Thank you ma'am. I would appreciate that.> Claxter said. <I've flown a fighter a few times, and it's one of the more enjoyable training sessions I've been through.> He had never really enjoyed blade to blade combat very much, mostly because it put him at greater risk of injury. Though he didn't want to let the TO know he was more afraid of pain and death than a typical Warrior should be. <Obviously the Mirage is not a standard ship, and that itsself adds a layer of interest as well.>
-
~
Leskel glances over at Claxter as he enters the flight-deck, but doesn't comment as the Warrior lies down. When Claxter addresses him, he points a stalk-eye in his direction. <I apologize, Claxter, I was never a fighter pilot. I believe there would be no-one more qualified to enlighten you than our TO, if she would like to.>
He points a stalk-eye at Enorryma as she speaks. <If you should like to assume the helm, you are welcome to do so, sir. However, it is not necessary.>
~
-
<Thank you, Leskel; please continue as you were.>
Enorryma assumed a more relaxed posture, her stalk eyes drifting toward the entrance of the control room as she spoke.
<The first differences you will notice between fighters and larger ships are the sound and the inertia. In a fighter, your engine is directly beneath and behind you, and you can hear when the secondary engine engages to compensate for maneuvering. The fighter's singularity engine is significantly smaller than the singularity drives on a larger ship, so while combustion-based engines only exist on large ships as back-up systems and failsafes to counter primary engine failures, on the fighter, the combustion engines are how you do rapid fine maneuvering, with the singularity engine being reserved for gross maneuvers, Z-Space jumps, and peripheral systems like traction, cloaking, and shielding. This means that in a fighter or another small ship, you have to be attentive to the richness of your fuel mixture, and you can actually hear differences in the engine noises based on the fuel richness and the demands you are putting on the combustion engine. In a ship like the Mirage, or anything larger, however, the engines are functionally silent. This forces you to watch your instruments more carefully for engine diagnostics, if the ship is under multiple stresses like sustaining shield damage and returning fire along with flight and maneuvers. In a large ship, you may fail to notice a problem which would be apparent immediately in your fighter.>
Norry indicated the diagnostic panel of the controls as she spoke.
<Inertia also comes into play: a large ship is much less agile and will either maneuver more slowly or demand more power to maneuver at the same speed. In a fighter, most of the weapons systems are powered by the singularity engine, and the main conflict to balance is between the strength of your shield, the power of your Shredder, and the linear speed of your craft. In a larger ship, being more maneuverable comes at the cost of your shields being temporarily weaker, or your Shredders temporarily being limited for range and power. Dome ships are a major exception, since newer models have dedicated engines for the peripheral systems, separate from the drive engines. Ships of greater mass are more dangerous to take through Z-Space, because they are more likely to have anomalous interactions with dimensional folds. This screen shows the Z-Space topography, since the naked eye can't interpret these frequencies of light.> She pointed out the grid screen, with its strange curves.
<Most of these anomalies are larger than a fighter, so you do not even need this screen on a fighter, and your only real concern is plotting your exit location accurately. The Mirage is sufficiently massive that the Z-Space topography is directly altered by its presence, so constant attention is necessary to make sure our exit point is still where it was in the moment that it was calculated and plotted. In a combat situation, this ship would need a bare minimum crew of two, because one pilot cannot handle both navigation and weapons systems. In a fighter, navigation is so much less complex that a single pilot can handle both, and even give priority to the weapons systems. Finally, while there are countless other smaller details which make them different, the last two major differences of note are the life support and the controls themselves.>
Norry gestured to the ship's consoles, a mix of old-style joysticks, key screens, and thought-speech interfaces.
<An Andalite fighter ship is designed exclusively for Andalite use, and as a result, it combines a physical joystick with thought-speech commands, intended for simultaneous use. A larger ship may have occasional non-Andalite crew with necessary skills, and so it has multiple methods of interfacing with the ship's computer. Nowhere on a large ship will you find a true full-manual override, because you would need far more limbs than you have to operate the necessary levers. A fighter does have full-manual controls, which you can engage as part of numerous possible emergency situations. The life support systems of a fighter are clearly very limited, designed to protect you from cosmic radiation, heat, cold, and vacuum, and to keep engine fumes out of the ****pit. A ship of this size has to maintain a more complex internal climate including fluid and gas recycling and processing, so the life support systems have their own dedicated section of the control panel. Frequently this section is password protected or calibrated to a limited small group of the crew, for security.>
She stepped away from the life support controls and smiled with her eyes. <There is quite a bit more to it, of course, but those are the main concerns.>
-
<I do get the feeling that I'm in tune with the ship when I'm piloting my fighter.> He said as she explained how the engine of a small fighter was right beneath him, and he could feel changes more quickly than in a larger ship.
When she spoke of Z-space topography, and he studied the screen, he noticed the lines looked like an ear. <Z-Space is listening to us.> He said quietly to himself. He hadn't really meant for her to hear, and regretted that she might. She was older, and had probably long forgotten passtimes like seeing shapes in clouds and such. He should probably try to seem older and more mature around higher ranking officers.
<Thank you for such a detailed description.> He said when she finished. <You are well versed in ships. How long does it typically take to train to fly larger craft? Personally I have not yet sett;ed into a definite military career, and piloting is something I've been open to exploring.>
-
Esarvit takes out his personal computer and begins refreshing it, really more out of force of habit than anything else. Just a short time ago he would have been dutifully awaiting updates from other fronts of the war--the Anati deployment, maybe. Even a posting about Skrit Na trading rights in Kelbrid space would have boosted his morale!
Now--nothing's the same. Sure, for now he can get military updates, but soon enough he'll be either disappeared or officially recognized for the traitor he's become. And with the corrupt careerists apparently working even at the highest levels of the military hierarchy, there's no trust that other "progress reports" really further the interests of Andalites and their fellow free species. It leaves a sour feeling in his hooves.
Thinking of which, he's getting thirsty. He hopes the water filtration systems are able to handle the strain of having who-knows-however-many Yeerks and bipeds crawling around the ship.
-
She blinked at his comment. <Listening to us... sometimes I wonder if it is not listening, or somehow aware in its own vast and incomprehensible way. More than once, during a long tour, I have looked out into the void and wondered if it did not look back. Strange and uncanny things happen inside the void, things which seem the product of a nightmare or a child's story. It is enough to make a person... superstitious.> Her voice trailed off as her stalk eyes wandered back toward the image of the ear, and the white void beyond the hull.
She came back to herself with a bit of a start. <Excuse me; I would not have the crew think me odd. If you already have standard fighter training completed, then the completion time for larger craft flight training is quite a bit shorter, even at academy. You could probably have the basics learned in a day or two, if you focus on that and little else, and then assume at least two weeks will be necessary for complete acquaintance with whatever ship you are planning to pilot. The basic principles of any large ship will carry over to other large ships, but individual models each have their own rhythms and variations which must be learned for truly competent piloting.>
Be careful, Vanarx, or they will wonder if you have not been spending far too much time alone on long tours. She found herself craving a stim capsule, but she forced herself to resist the urge, since it would be some time before she had room to spend the restless energy it would give her.
-
Claxter got the feeling that Enorryma was a bit strange. Not that he didn't believe in the supernatural to an extent, but he believed Z-Space was not a self aware entity. Right? He looked at the lines, taking recognizable shapes. Just patterns that weren't really there, right? Still, all andalites had something about that that could be considered strange to others. Who was he to judge?
<Perhaps in the future, I could be allowed to fly the Mirage a bit in normal space. Or another ship that's larger than this one. If you don't mind, perhaps you could tell me about some experiences you've had as a pilot.>
-
Norry brightened a bit at the request. <What sort of things do you want to hear?> Her mind raced through half a dozen memories which had all been excellent story-fodder in the past.
-
<Well, I haven't been in real ship to ship combat yet. Perhaps you could tell me of a good battle, and give me some advice on that. Or maybe just a story of when you needed to patrol and area, and got to see some nice sights.> Claxter was glad she was interested in telling stories. Talking was a good way to pass time, and it would be nice to have a conversation that wasn't as tense as the one he had with Efaen. He wondered if he should talk about Efaen to Enorryma. She was a female too, though they were very different now. It probably wouldn't help.
-
<In combat flight, as I mentioned before, your engine is beneath and behind you. Standing here, you can use your stalk eyes to check the environment, but the ****pit and engine naturally impair your view and create some blind spots. One of my first tours, I nearly lost a wingman, Avaliss, that way: a Bug fighter was hiding in his blindspot, and part of his comm array had already been taken out from an earlier Dracon blast. I was out of range to warn him by thought-speech, and I had no clear shot at anything vital on the Bug fighter, so I had to fire across Avaliss' bow to get the Bug fighter to back off. That got Avaliss' attention, and he did a vertical turn-about in no time, spotting the Bug fighter which had been hiding behind his tail.> She chuckled a bit at the memory.
<Another thing to be wary of is radiation, since the hull of a fighter is so much finer and less insulated than it is on a large ship. Once my squadron leader mis-plotted a Z-Space jump, and we emerged in the middle of a star cluster not far from the galaxy's center. We lost a great pilot that day, because he had an allergy to the morphing technology and could not heal the damage. Now, I never go anyplace without one of these.> She lifted a pocket flap on her Shredder belt, revealing an adhesive patch with several pale orange dots on it.
<If the marks turn blue, it means critical radiation or gees, or an atmospheric hazard. If the entire patch turns black, then the exposure is enough to be fatal within three standard minutes. This gives enough time to morph and repair the body, if that is an option.>
-
Tess squeezes Chris's hand in return, emotion threatening to overcome her as she hears the roll call of those who survived--many of whom she counts as her close friends. Even more, she feels the sharp pang of absence of those not called.
She wonders about her fellow pirates, of whom only Aya, Dominic and Lanath are accounted for.
As she stares up at Chris, she thinks of his cousin, who might as well be his brother for all their closeness: James, the leader of their rebellion along with Reven, and the father of the base's first child.
If he is gone, what then? she despairs as she hangs onto Chris's hand. I can only help Chris and Keslin through so much. This isn't just banishment like before. This is... utterly hopeless.
As relieved as he had appeared upon learning that his Yeerk, Illim, had survived, Daniel stiffens as he watches Ossanlin embrace Tara. He does not move forward to intercept the action, however, settling for keeping a sharp, protective eye on the pair. His expression remains troubled, as it has ever since he has learned of his friends' deaths. "This is going to be a trying time," he whispers to no one in particular as he lowers his eyes.
Illim's Yeerkish squeak is unsteady as he responds to Myitt. <<A--alive. Yeah, I'm here--we're both here. And Tara and Daniel...>> He sounds relieved despite his dazed state.
-
<How do you usually check your blind spot without relying on another fighter?> He asked.
<I don't suppose I could buy some of those patches anywhere? I have heard that going through Z-Space can be tricky. I forget if I entered Z-Space after taking my ship before meeting Prince Ossanlin. Though like you said, larger ships would be more at risk.>
-
Enorryma reached into one of her utility pouches and pulled out a patch identical to the one pasted onto the pocket's flap and offered it to Claxter.
<I generally keep a pack of them at my console on the main ship, along with a few spares on my person whenever possible. You can have this one if you like. Bulk packs of them can usually be found at Skrit Na trading posts. They are Andalite technology which today's military treats as outdated. They are trusting a bit too much in the integrity of newer hull materials, if you ask me. The Skrit Na recognized the usefulness of rad patches immediately, and I think the military could afford to learn a lesson from such practical opportunists.>
She reached into a different pouch and pulled out a small convex disc of a reflective dark grey metallic material. She held it up for Claxter to see, turning it so that the lights of the control consoles danced on its surface. It had several fine scratches in the surface, showing long use and wear.
<As for dealing with the fighters' blind spot when you have no wingman, the solution is as simple and complex as a parabolic mirror attached to the side of the ****pit. They get lost and damaged easily, and more than once a Bug fighter has shot off one of my mirrors to try to exploit the blind spot, so it is no perfect solution; in a multi-craft combat situation, it is generally good policy to turn your craft frequently just to check your blind spot, never leaving your back facing a given direction for more than a few seconds. The mirror just gives an extra second of warning. Sometimes, an extra second is all you need, and all your enemy would need to cut you down.>
She returned the mirror to its pouch and closed the flap.
<That particular mirror saw me through several conflicts. Perhaps it is sentimental of me to keep it, so many years later, but aside from memories, it is the last I have of my days in the ****pit.>
-
<Thank you for the patch. Even if the new technology is better than older things, it could still be good to use something that still works. Another layer of security is always welcome.>
<I'll try to keep that in mind when I need it. So have you met any of the rebels before? I've met some, and have mixed feelings for them. Their ideals are noble, though I'm not sure if they always hold onto the ideals as they should.>
-
<Beyond the mission today, I have never encountered any of these humans before. I would not know how to approach them, and I expect they would not particularly want my company, regardless. What noble ideals are these, beyond their will to undermine the Yeerk Empire?>
-
<They treat hosts equally as their partners, instead of their servants. at least, they are supposed to. There has certainly been at least one case where they let someone in who was unrepentant of the way she treated her involuntary host. Treating hosts as partners is the main thing that sets them apart from imperials, though there could be other things. They aren't always approachable, and it's probably best to just allow the friendlier ones o approach you.>
<There happens to be a bounty hunter controller named Keshin and Joanne here. I'm not sure what they were doing amongst the prisoners, but they're not with the group. One of them is actually an Andalite named Efaen who joined to spy on them, but some things happened after a year spent with them, and now her mind has been wiped and she is affiliated with them instead of us.>
-
Bile churned in Norry's hooves at the realization that Claxter was referring to the Yeerk parasites, and not to the humans. The notion of Yeerks being in any way civilized was patently ridiculous, and she winced internally at the realization that to some extent, Claxter was brainwashed into that idea, just like the poor humans in the main compartment had been brainwashed. Surely, if there were humans rebelling against the Empire, it was on the humans' own initiative, and they only brought their parasites along for information, or due to some kind of self-destructive sentimentality toward their captors. The mention of an Andalite turned over to their side shocked and revolted Enorryma, but she maintained a straight face and kept her voice as level as she could.
<Ah. That is... unfortunate to hear.>
-
<Obviously they're not all completely trustworthy. Even Prince Ossanlin only really trusts Myitt and Tara because they saved him from infestation once. I'm not really sure what will happen after we finish returning to the Tyrennian. I suppose it's possible that they may try to start over somewhere. I suppose that will be up to Prince Ossanlin and the rebel leaders to decide.>
-
Tara hugs Ossanlin, letting her hands rest on his back and hiccuping back a fresh wave of tears.
"Thanks," she whispers, her energy sapped. She nods. "I know. You didn't have to save us, but you risked all these people's lives, and yours, for us." She steps back, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks. "Those of us who are left. I...don't know how to begin properly thanking you."
Niko eyes Dom with a bitter expression. "I can't stand not knowing about the others," he murmurs. "Even just knowing whether they were alive or dead." He casts a forlorn stare up at the doorway to the pool room. "And no Reyliss. Poor, sweet goddamn Reyliss. ****, Dom."
<<Yeah,>> Myitt whispers to Illim. <<We're still alive. And still here. I want to go out there and talk to them.>>
When Lanath returns to their little circle, Myitt breaks herself away from Illim, her osmotic gray skin unusually clammy and reluctant.
<<Okay,>> she says, resolute, addressing everyone in the pool. <<We need to regroup with our human counterparts, figure out where Ossanlin thinks he's taking us, and remember that they are supposed to be our allies. They saved our tails, and we owe them our gratitude. Let's be civil, no matter what they say or what they think of us. And by the Kandrona, let's keep on living. And fighting. We're down and damaged, but we can still fight, while we still breathe, dammit.>>
To Keshin, specifically, she adds, bluntly, <<Looks like this is your chance to finally join us, unless you're only envisioning credit insignia and boxes of syringes.>>
-
Ossanlin nods to Tara, and then shakes his head. <It's alright...everyone here and everyone left on the Tyrennian was made fully and painfully aware of the cost of this mission before they were given the option to partake of it. They have their quirks, but each one is solid. It was the only option, Tara. We could no longer serve a government willing to commit genocide. The fact that they stripped the Alpha Line bare and subsequently lost our...their...posit ion didn't help either.> He shakes his head again. <Don't thank us yet, there's still far too much up to chance for that.> He lays a hand on Tara's shoulder briefly and looks into her eyes. <You're strong, you and Myitt both. I'm going to need that strength if we're going to have any hope of surviving.> He nods before turning back toward the pool.
<Pool-bound rebels, Tara is here, she will be submersing her hand shortly.>
He addresses the entire occupancy of the ship next. <Those of you with controllers, they are ready to rejoin you. Please line up at the med-bay and we'll reunite you as efficiently and quickly as possible.>
-
Tara smiles faintly and nods, still brushing at her cheeks. "I know, Ossanlin. We're nothing if not survivors." She eyes the pool, leaning over it with a sigh.
Gently she places her hand into the pool, fishing Myitt out and giving no one a second glance, lifting the dripping Yeerk to her left ear as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
<<Perhaps it would be prudent to tell them which in which order we will be received,>> Lanath murmurs. <<With no pool-based communications system this is rather more difficult than usual. It would help.>>
<<Yeah,>> Myitt breathes, glad to have something to work towards, something accomplishable. <<Sure, Lanath, good idea. Let's get in some sort of a line, I guess. Tell Ossanlin we're, um...hell, I guess I should go first, if Tara's waiting. Then Keslin, Keshin, Illim, and Lanath. Sound fair?>> She pauses, and if she were human, she'd probably be blushing. <<The order is random, of course.>>
With a gentle displacement of water, Tara's hand dips into the pool. Myitt clicks to the others, suddenly apprehensive of what they all might find on the other side.
<<Right,>> she says firmly. <<Fare well, for the moment.>>
She slides between Tara's fingers, allowing her friend to lift her up and up through the warm, dry shipboard air.
After what feels like an eternity, Myitt senses Tara's ear, worming her way into Tara's head.
And then she is staring out through human eyes, the transition so bright and disorienting after ages in the dark that she is actually momentarily stunned. She blinks and straightens her neck, staring without saying anything, though her expression shifts naturally into one of confused curiosity, brow furrowing. Her eyes track as she recounts Tara's memories, so absorbed with the task that she doesn't even think to say hello to Ossanlin.
<<It's good to see you, too,>> Tara says dryly. <<Can you wipe off my damn ear? I feel like I just took a shower.>>
<<They didn't mistreat you,>> Myitt says with urgency, flipping through the events of the last few days in Andalite captivity.
-
<Welcome back to the sighted world, Myitt.> Ossanlin eye-smiles a bit before addressing the rest of the ship again.
<Myitt and Tara are reunited, who's next?>
-
Lanath swims forward to relay the order in which they will be received, pressing his palps against the transponder.
<<Hello, Ossanlin. We have determined a preliminary order: Keslin, Keshin, Illim and I will form a small line to be reunited with our human friends.>>
He breaks away again and turns to the others. <<If that is acceptable, I will let you start, Keslin.>>
Myitt blinks rapidly, her dazed expression clearing.
She looks from the pool to Ossanlin. Slowly, sadly, she smiles. "Hi," she exhales. She reaches up to press a hand against his shoulder. "You really did it, this time, you know that? Did you really envy our ragtag existence that much?" Her eyes reflect the warmth of her smile, and she shakes her head. "Tell me, where exactly are we headed?"
-
"I'll go next," Chris says immediately, though he has yet to hear the decided upon order. Giving Tess a reassuring smile he steps over to the pool, waiting as Myitt reinfests Tara. Once it is clear the Yeerk is in control he puts a hand on her back.
"Hey," he murmurs, his smile shaking a little as he draws one of his oldest friends into a hug. Fresh tears sting his eyes and his strong arms tremble a little. "Is everyone okay in there?" he asks, glancing down at the murky pool water.
Aya, who has been largely silent, appears at Chris' side. "I'll take Lanath," she tells him quietly, without bothering to look at him, her bloodshot eyes on the pool. "I don't know where Zach is, but he isn't here."
Efaen watches Claxter go, then looks around, suddenly feeling incredibly out of place. Everyone seems to have someone to grieve over, or someone to reunite with. Having neither, she is entirely the outsider. Maybe I shouldn't have come here, she thinks to herself, though the alternative of remaining with the Andalites on Corvus was even more unbearable.
She takes a deep breath and, pushing back her reluctance and dislike of the Andalite, approaches Ossanlin. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asks.
-
Ossanlin notices Lanath approach the nodes from one of his stalk-eyes, but he never removes his main eyes from Myitt. He returns her gesture, laying a hand on her shoulder. <I do what I must Myitt, regardless of the price. I've reached my limit, and the thought that you might be...there...in that place, pained me greatly. Even the chance that you were there made the decision as simple as it could possibly be. For myself, at least. I don't relish living without a government supply line, and the thought of never seeing Home again...> He grimaces momentarily before getting his features back under control, the uncharacteristic slip as strong as a wail of pain from another person. <...but we can't look at it like that. We choose to see it as an opportunity. Prince Seerow saw great potential...now that my position with the Electorate is nullified, we have the opportunity to see what can be accomplished when our two species actually work together.> Ossanlin smiles again and nods a bit. <I think we can build something miraculous from these ashes...as long as all of you are willing to work with Andalites, that is. The law of Seerow's Kindness no longer governs us, so I hope you don't mind getting tail-deep into the Tyrennian's components.> He smiles, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of one eye. He kneels down again and embraces Tara with Myitt on-board before standing up again. <It is truly good to see you. The fact that we're both here, now, in this moment...it must mean something great.> He smiles a little more broadly as he removes the chip from the recorder assembly and interfaces it with his ARC, giving him an order. He'd assumed it would just be easier for Ossanlin himself to call out who exactly was dipping their hand into the pool...but perhaps there was some reason he hadn't thought of for the order.
<Keslin wishes to be retrieved first.> Ossanlin glances at Chris. <You and he are partners, I assume?> He nods and waits a moment before addressing those still in the pool. <Chris is now submersing his hand.>
Ossanlin turns his main eyes back on Myitt. <As for our destination...it's the Tyrennian. From there, I was hoping that...you...could provide a heading. Myitt...some of you must've escaped that attack. You would've had missions running, and the Electorate couldn't have caught all of you as you fled the base.>
He glances at Efaen as she speaks, shaking his head at her disparaging attitude toward her true natural form. It wouldn't do to call her down after she'd sought him out. <You know many of these individuals better than I. Make sure the appropriate hosts receive their Yeerks.>
Ossanlin turns his attention back to Myitt, pausing before asking the question he's been dreading. <Myitt...Reven...sur ely he escaped...?>
-
Joanne, finally realizing that no opportunity would come that she didn't make herself, wanders close to Ossanlin. A lump forms in her throat. She wasn't a person used to offering gratitude. Since the day when her and Keshin had murdered ten people (Five Yeerks and hosts) and left their station behind, they had done nearly everything alone. It had been several years since then. "Uhm...sir...." she states, her throat catching a bit. Damn nerves.
"List'n..." She keeps eye contact with his front eyes. It was hard not to stare at his stalks, but she'd heard from Kess that it was a gesture of respect. She fidgets with her hair, trying to find the words. "...thanks, Oss. Without what you did, Kess'd be dead an' me too. Sorry we tried to kill you before. Jus' how things were goin' back then."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Keshin nods, wavering behind Keslin and Myitt. His heart leaps when he hears his own host made it---there was hope! They both would survive yet another brush with oblivion in the end. The ranking order of host entry is of peculiar convenience to him. It is unlike Myitt One-Nine-Five to show no favoritism to her own band of brigands. Ah well---these were unusual circumstances.
<We will of course join you,> says Keshin with little uncertainty. < The situation has changed. We have greater strength in numbers.>
Keshin notes that Myitt has passed him, but the others have heard. He and Joanne will have their chance very soon.
-
"Chris," Myitt breathes, hugging him tightly, eyes momentarily closing in distress. As she pulls back she nods at the pool. "They're alive. As okay as we all can be." Her eyes track blankly. "Tess...and the children, I see they are alright. That's really...****ing good to hear."
She gives Chris a faint smile before turning to Ossanlin, swallowing hard. She hugs him just as tightly when he kneels to embrace her, emotion welling up in her chest again. With a tired sigh she says, "I can't speak for all of us, but I think after what you did? Most of them will be willing to work with you. All of us are beyond words, that this blow should come from your people, and not our own." Again she looks away, expression bleak.
Myitt considers their course, pressing a hand against her forehead. "Chris, you should regain Keslin, and we'll figure out where they were most likely to have gone. The contingency plan spread us out between various rendezvous points, so that no single group of refugees could be easily wiped out. We'll need to see where we are, whether z-space will be shifting, and which will be the closest place to search."
At Ossanlin's last question, she rubs a hand against her mouth, expression haunted.
"Ossanlin...we've lost many good people," she says haltingly. She swallows, shaking her head. "Among them were my brother and his host. Reven and James...we lost them."
In spite of her grief, she is resolute, and moves on to the next task.
Her gaze passes over Joanne briefly, but she sneers when the woman steps close to Ossanlin.
"Turelek," she mutters, not without much gusto. "I might've known you two would survive all this."
The scowl of displeasure deepens into full on ire when Efaen approaches. "And you," she says quietly, coldly, "stay the hell away from him, do you hear me? Dapsen coward."
-
Chris pulls away from Myitt reluctantly, nodding. When Ossanlin hugs her his eyes narrow a little suspiciously. His cynicism deteriorates into grief when the conversation turns to James, though, and he pushes aside his suspicions.
"Andalite--Ossanlin--," Chris says, his tongue fumbling over the alien name. "Thank you for everything you've done. Without your help, we'd have been...really ****ed." He sighs, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "I don't know how Keslin will feel about working with an Andalite. Don't know how I feel about it, to be honest, but until we find the others...until Tess is safe..." He glances back at his pregnant partner and shrugs. "We'll do what we can to help."
He dips his hand down into the pool, waiting until one of the Yeerks scrunch-thrusts its way into his waiting palm. His fingers wrap around the creature and he pulls it from the viscous pool liquid, holding him to his ear.
Efaen's eyes widen at Myitt's sharp words, and she takes a step away from her and Ossanlin. "You...you told me..." she stammers. Then she clears her throat and straightens her posture. "You told me when Ossanlin took me from base that if I ever could find my way back, to the base or to the bar, or...anywhere...I was welcome. Are you going to call me a coward just because my way of finding you involved going to that...that place?" She waves her hand vaguely behind her, clearly indicating the facility they just left behind.
She half turns away, her lips pressed together in a thin, angry line. Her next words are delivered to Myitt in sharp, private thought-speak. <<I trusted you. You took my memories from me and I had no reason to, but I still put my trust in you. The Andalites...they treat me like some kind of lunatic for not wanting to be a part of their stupid society with their stupid honor and stupid...I thought maybe you of all people would understand.>>
-
Ossanlin shakes his head a bit. <They're not my people anymore, Myitt. At least...not my government. I still fight for the People...that is my duty and honor, but the corrupt officials of the Electorate will no longer have my blade to wield. How many times will they sanction genocide? Alloran-Semitur-Corrass would've returned a "hero" had he not been infested. I have done what could be done from where I was. Things have changed, so I'll fight in a different way.>
He glances at Joanne with a stalk-eye, his main eyes widening just a bit. Mercurial was too weak a word to describe Joanne and Keshin. <Funny how things change, hmm? One day you try to kill someone, the next, you owe him your life. What would've happened had you succeeded back when things were..."going that way?" Food for thought.> He pauses a moment before speaking up again. <You should thank Tara...she had a little something to do with your freedom as well.> He doesn't mention how he'd considered leaving the turelek duo in that hellish prison...after all, if either Joanne or Keshin was actually capable of displaying even a shred of gratitude or loyalty, it shouldn't be stomped to death out of hand.
Ossanlin moves his main eyes to Chris and nods as the human walks to the pool. <We'll need everyone in the weeks and months to come. I hope we can overcome the hardships. We need all of you as much as you need us...perhaps more...but I'll go over that later.> As Chris dips his hand into the pool, Ossanlin nods toward Joanne and jerks his head toward the pool. <You're next.>
He moves his eyes back to Efaen as she and Myitt begin to exchange heated words. He gives Myitt a piercing look before moving his eyes to Efaen. Such loyalty in a friend was treasured, but he didn't need Myitt to pick fights in his name. <I don't know the reason behind accusing her of cowardice, Myitt, but we're going to be stuck together for some time...things will become extremely uncomfortable if we don't at least try to get along.>
He shakes his head at Efaen, addressing her next. <You don't understand, do you Efaen? Right now, your best friend on this ship is me, and you scorn that on the face of it. You have a problem, Efaen...you always want what you can't have...every incarnation of you that I've known has had that problem. You're more like your old self than you know...the only difference is the shift in your alliance. You might be more subtle and soft-spoken now...but you have the same drives and ambitions. I heard what you did to Claxter. He reached out to you, perhaps the only person on this ship who would.> He shakes his head. <Claxter has one of the gentlest souls I've had the pleasure of knowing. Some people see it as weakness, but it's really just a different kind of strength. You're so ignorant. You think that because he befriended you before, he shares your prior self's ideals. You don't see that he was merely big enough to overlook your old self's failings. He never accepted them, he saw past them! He thought, just maybe, he could help you shed all of that hatred and find peace without committing mass murder. And even now, more than a year after your memory wipe...you still hold all of that hatred, it just has a different target, and it's no more appropriate than the last. He still wants to help you, and you openly scoff at his offer, instead trying to seek refuge with people who have no desire to associate with you.> He shakes his head again, fixing Efaen with a disapproving, yet pitying expression before turning his main eyes back to Myitt.
Myitt had ignored his comments about the Tyrennian...that was bad. He'd hoped it would cheer her up a bit. An astronomical engineer who didn't at least perk up at the thought of being able to sink her teeth into the pinnacle of space-faring technology was an engineer in dire straits. Her words about Reven send a numb shock through him. <Yaolin...> The Andalite obscenity sounds odd coming from him. He looks off to the side with his main eyes, shaking his head. <You're certain? Of course you are, you wouldn't have said so if you weren't.> He curses again internally, not only for the loss of a friend, but for the added problems his loss portents. He returns his main eyes to Myitt before speaking again. <Myitt...I'm so sorry. If...since Reven is no longer with us...I hate to be callous, but who will take over?>
-
Myitt stares at Efaen, too distracted at first to properly answer Ossanlin. Her eyes narrow for the briefest of seconds as Efaen's voice fills Myitt's own mind.
"How do we know you weren't an instrument in all this?" she asks, with the same cold weariness that seems to be the most anger she can muster.
Eager to pull away from the Andalite who had impersonated her brother's host, but loath to let Efaen out of her sight, she turns hesitantly to Ossanlin.
"I don't trust her," Myitt says succinctly, pressing her lips into a thin line and lifting herself lightly on her toes as she tries to suppress her irritation. "But I will work with her. For all our sake."
At the mention of Reven again she can't help but let her gaze wander to Chris' back. "I don't know who will take over," she admits with a sigh, "but we will need to find some semblance of unity. All of us. We can grieve later, when we find James' and Reven's wife and daughter, and Mike and Corliss, anyone else we can manage." The pang of uncertainty that hits her, not knowing whether her closest friends and family are even alive to be found, makes her stomach churn uncomfortably.
Now she looks over her shoulder towards the main cabin, where for the first time it truly sinks in that she is alive, and her friends are dead, and an unknown number of others are missing, and she is surrounded by Andalites who may or may not have any love for Yeerks and their host counterparts.
Her hands clench into fists at her sides, but she tries for a smile. "Tara says you're the boss, for now. Until we can regroup. I'm personally inclined to agree."
-
Ossanlin looks at the floor with his main eyes for a few moments. <Myitt...it might be best for now, but...> He falls silent for a few moments. <I can't possibly understand your people, or the pain you're going through. I've left my home behind, and the thought of never seeing the suns rising again pains me to my bones, but all of you left your homes long ago. On top of that, you've now lost so many...> He shakes his head again. <Your people have no reason to trust me. I wouldn't ask them to, not before it's earned.>
<We'll need to find the rest of your people...for now, I need your help. I'll consider you as in charge of the rebels for the time being.> He sighs heavily. <Either way, we all need each other. I only have a skeleton crew left aboard the Tyrennian, Myitt...I won't be able to keep her running for long without help.> He shakes his head. <But that's talk for later. We're all rebels now, of one kind or another.>
-
Myitt's eyes widen at Ossanlin's affirmation of her leadership. She swallows again, Tara's throat painfully dry.
"Yeah," she croaks, smiling sadly. "I guess we all are."
She turns her attention to watching Chris and Keslin reunite, unable to help wondering how Daniel is doing, and eager to have him reunited with the Yeerk she cares so much about.
-
Ossanlin notes the widening of Myitt's eyes. <I don't want your people to think they've escaped one prison for another, Myitt. They trust you...it is my desire that you may allay their fears. Perhaps if they see you trusting me, they will come to trust me as well. It will take time and effort from all of us. I have thoughts...plans... but for now, they're nebulous. Finding the rest of your people is top-priority.> He glances at Chris and Keslin too, a prime example of the type of reception he expects from most rebels...grudging gratitude mixed with 'I'll trust you as far as I need to, but I make no promises.'
-
Keslin worms his way through Chris' ear canal, the human's eyes blanking as the Yeerk connects to his brain.
<<My friend,>> Keslin breathes as soon as he is able. He immediately begins flipping through Chris' memories, eyes tracking.
<<Good to see you, buddy,>> Chris responds, laughing wearily.
<<Tess...she's safe.>> Even having heard her name in the report hadn't been quite enough to placate Keslin's nerves, but with the memories he is finally able to feel some sort of relief amid the endless grief.
His eyes snap into focus, Chris' hands trembling notably as he catches the tail end of Ossanlin's conversation with Myitt. "I would trust Myitt with my life," he says quietly, not offering any preamble or introduction, "but it would be cruel to put the weight of leadership upon her alone." He reaches a shaking hand over to her shoulder, drawing Myitt into a hug that echoes the one Chris gave her moments ago. "I am so glad that you are safe, Myitt. Tara." Unlike Chris, he pulls away from the hug quickly. "Now if you'll excuse me...I am sure there is much business to discuss, but I need to see Tess."
Efaen's eyes narrow at the accusation from Myitt. "Why the hell would I want to help them destroy you?" she asks before turning to Ossanlin.
"I don't know him," she says, gesturing towards the bridge where Claxter disappeared. "I don't know what his intentions are, or what sort of a relationship he had with me prior to the wipe. Maybe he is a good person, but I can't just trust every single person who says they knew me before. I'm not that much of a fool."
Dom makes a little choking noise in the back of his throat at the thought of Reyliss, and he grips the other man's hand, squeezing his eyes shut. "Niko, we have to find him," he whispers.
Aya, looking uneasy, glances down at the pool. "Call me when it is my turn," she says to no one in particular. Then she ducks out of the room and onto the bridge, walking past Terenia, still sitting and staring blankly, as she goes.
On the bridge, she looks around curiously at the Andalites and the Andalite technology. Her expression clearly shows her grief, but her eyes are bright with interest as well as tears. Cautiously, she sidles up to one of the control panels, running her fingers over the metal alloy. "What do these do?" she asks of any of the Andalites willing to answer.
-
<I believe these controls monitor the ship's proximity to other objects.> Claxter said, looking at the Human with a stalk eye. She looked familiar to him. <Um...Aya? Is that your name? I'm Claxter, from the Space Bar. I don't suppose you remember me? I remember you being quite social towards me, despite that I was an Andalite. If that is who you are, it is good to see you again.>
She was obviously not in a great mood at the moment, but if he could get her to talk with him as freely as she did before, he may be able to find out some things.
-
Myitt nods, emotion breaking through again at Keslin's words. She sniffles, quickly covering her nose.
"****," she breathes, echoing her human friend's earlier sentiments.
She turns on her heel, brushing her cheek with the back of her hand, and her gaze falls back upon Efaen.
A few choice replies surface in her mind, before she settles for something more polite. "I don't trust a memory wipe to be permanent," she amends, lip curling.
Niko nods, squeezing Dom's hand and patting him heartily on the back. "We will," he says, staring around the Andalite cabin, feeling suddenly very lost and uncomfortable, amidst strangers--Andalite strangers, no less. "We'll find him. If it's the last damn thing I do."
He notes Aya stalking past him, and turns toward the others as well, letting his hand slide out of Dom's.
-
Joanne notes both Ossanlin and Myitt's statements to her and wanders toward the pool, standing in front of it. From what she's gathered of the system, Keshin should now be the Yeerk swimming around at the front. Joanne smiles down at him, but only haltingly. It was hard, being surrounded by people that she'd at one point or another she'd tried to kill. I mean come on. In the state the rebels were in, could they really all even get along?
At Ossanlin's request, Joanne turns to Myitt as she bends her hand down and carefully cups Keshin's squirming body in it. "Thanks t'you then, " she states with a nod as she puts Keshin next to her ear. Suppose we're all workin' together for hear on out."
Joanne then closes her eyes, leaning against a wall and waiting for Keshin to make his way inside. The initial pain still stung, but damn did it feel good in this room full of enemies to sense the arrival of her best friend.
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Keshin's primitive senses flood with the detection of being lifted into the air that seems crisp to him. He clicks ahead, revealing with relief the opening into an ear that must be his partner's. Keshin wriggles eagerly into it, perhaps eagerly enough to cause a bit more discomfort than usual. Joanne wouldn't care much, he hoped. It was time to see the light.
-
Ossanlin watches Joanne retrieve Keshin, almost wincing. Though he's not prejudiced against Yeerks, the vision of infestation still makes him uncomfortable. He moves his main eyes to Daniel. <Now you, Daniel.> He barely knows the human, met in passing at the Bar some time ago, but he knows the human and his Yeerk Illim are mates to Myitt and Tara.
He returns his gaze to Efaen. <You don't remember any reason to trust him...but you didn't even give him a chance, did you? You rejected his attempts straight away out of hand because of his species. You're just as specist as before, only the focus of your hatred has changed.>
-
Daniel looks between Ossanlin and Efaen as they speak, his forehead creased in wrinkles, but he wastes no time in bending down once Joanne has cleared out, inviting Illim's familiar form back into his head. It is only a moment later that he straightens again, glazed eyes taking a few moments to focus as he raises his hand to wipe away the pool sludge. "E--Efaen..." he says, voice unsteady. He clears his throat but it doesn't seem to improve his wavering tone. "Let's talk later, alright?" he murmurs, then gives a small, twitchy smile quite unlike his usual broad one before heading after Myitt, his hand shakily reaching out for Tara's shoulder.
Tess has remained quiet, sitting up on her hovering cot. As soon as Chris had stepped to the tiny pool, she had been watching with great intensity.
"Keslin," she calls out to him just as he finishes uttering her own name. She extends both her arms and slides off the cot onto the floor, hurrying as quickly as she can to him. An unexpectedly strong wave of emotion overtakes her and she puts both arms around Chris and hugs him as tightly as she can with her swollen belly in the way. "Oh god, Keslin... I thought--" her voice catches, and she buries her wet eyes into his chest.
-
Norry rose slowly out of the darkly contemplative trance which had overtaken her when Claxter mentioned the Rebels. Her main eyes were still on the consoles and Leskel, but she turned one stalk-eye apiece to Claxter and Aya, watching their exchange in silence. She noticed the glistening in Aya's eyes and remembered reading that surplus eye lubricant in humans is a sign of emotional distress or being overwhelmed.
The human is... mourning? Perhaps she has lost friends to the Empire; who among us has not? I am not the person who she will find a comfort; I am a stranger, an Andalite, and I would not know where to begin. Perhaps through Claxter I can communicate with her and learn more about these humans.
She addressed the control room in general, not letting her posture indicate a specific person when she asked, <I have heard several mentions of a Space Bar; where and what is it, exactly? I have only known Prince Ossanlin and this crew in the context of active duty, but I know several of you know each other from other times, or perhaps between tours of duty.>
-
<The Galaxy's Edge Space Bar is a strange place that is connected to different universes, and times. I have encountered people from a time when the Andalite/Yeerk war was over. Both of them from different times where the Yeerks won or lost. I have seen people come from universes quite different from our own. One Human comes from a universe where the enemy is more dangerous than Yeerks. If the Yeerk species had come across Parker's Earth, they probably never would have tried infiltrating it. With his technology, Hork-Bajir would be defenseless, even when equipped with standard dracons, due to all his armor and weapons. There have been individuals wielding magic as well.>
<It is where I met Prince Ossanlin, rescued Efaen, and had other adventures. There's no telling what you'll find at the Space Bar, but the mute bartender takes any currency, and can deliver practically anything you want as far as drinks and food.>
-
<Different universes, you say?> Her eyes widened, and she turned so that all four eyes were on Claxter's face, searching.
<Why has such a portal not been contained, if it exists? If other universes do exist, as our physics suggests, then it is statistically guaranteed that some of them will contain hazards more than capable of destroying life as we know it, or at least civilization. This sounds like a cruel trick of gods or Ellimists, something from a story to frighten children, but I can see on your face that you believe what you are saying.> A shudder ran through her.
<If such a place exists, it should not.>
-
<Perhaps it should not, but I wouldn't know the first thing about closing it if it's possible. There was actually an Imperial that almost helped take over Earth because of information he found out at the bar. Probably the only person that could explain what that place is, and why it exists, is the bartender. I doubt he would be willing to help destroy or seal up the place.>
-
<Lanath is ready to be retrieved.> Ossanlin calls out to the ship in general. He glances at those crowded inside the small medbay before deactivating the restraining field that the human female was no longer using. He moves his main eyes to Keslin and Chris. <I'm sorry, I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I am War-Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel...though I suppose the rank no longer matters as much as it used to.> Ossanlin shakes his head ruefully before continuing. <But it is a part of me...it always will be. I assume that once we find the rest of your survivors that you will select a new leader...but I know Myitt, and I trust her. For now I hope that you will be willing to accept her as leader pro tempore. Truth be told, I would prefer your loyalty myself...but that is something I cannot ask you for. You have no reason to trust me. I can tell you as many times as I wish that my intentions are to see you all reunited with your remaining kin, but you have no reason to trust my word. Besides which, I imagine most of you are...soured...on my race at the moment.>
<If you will all excuse me, once everyone has been reinfested, we will need to talk. I would like to check on our progress with my helmsmen.> Ossanlin nods before exiting the medbay, his manner and bearing radiating self-discipline and command as it generally does nearly all the time. It's natural to him anymore.
He makes his way across the common to the flight-deck, stepping up into the smaller room. He glances at the occupants, Leskel focused on piloting the ship, and Norry scrutinizing Claxter as if she'd seen a disembodied apparition. He gives her a slightly questioning glance before turning his attention back on Leskel. <How long?>
<If configuration holds, sir...we'll be back with the Tyrennian in approximately one hour and twenty minutes UGTS.> Leskel speaks without diverting his attention from Z-Space.
<Good. It'll be good to get home.> He smiles, regarding Norry again.
-
Aya looks up at the two Andalites, letting them finish speaking before she says anything.
"I remember you, Claxter," she says. "I don't forget people, especially not Andalites. My line of business meant I didn't have many opportunities to speak to them." She regards Norry with somewhat more curiosity than she does Claxter, her eyes taking in the Andalite female's physique with a critical eye.
"You're a girl," she observes. "That's interesting. I thought the Andalite military was pretty against female warriors. Of course, you aren't the first I've crossed paths with. It's rare, though."
It is then that Ossanlin's thought-speak interupts her, proclaiming Lanath ready for reinfestation. "I have to go," she says with a small, sad smile. "It'd be good to get to know you guys better, though. I guess...I guess we're all part of the same crew, for awhile at least, huh?"
She gives them a parting wave and turns to head back to the portable pool in the other room. As soon as she is there she dips her hand in and pulls out the remaining Yeerk, holding him up to her ear and waiting for him to enter her.
Efaen turns her gaze downward to the ground, but she does not respond to Ossanlin. He is gone before she has the chance to. Maybe he's right, she thinks cautiously, looking at the Yeerks and humans reuniting around her. But no Andalite has ever done me any favors. Except perhaps Tora.
When Illim addresses her she gives him a weak smile, relieved that at least someone is not treating her with mistrust, even if he does seem distracted by Myitt. That's to be expected, she reminds herself. Still, she cannot help but feel lonely as she finds her way to a back wall where she will be relatively out of the way as she stares at the ground and contemplates her options.
Keslin's trembling only increases with Tess' embrace, and he tightens Chris' strong arms around her. "Tess," he whispers desperately, fingers tangling in her hair. He hears Ossanlin, but does not respond, far too busy embracing the one person he and Chris care about more than anyone else.
When he pulls back to look at her his smile is shaky. "You--you're okay," he says, his voice trembling. He swallows, then squeezes Chris' eyes shut briefly. His extended stay in prison seems to have affected him more than his host. "I'm so glad...the...the children are alright too?" He has already seen, in Chris' memories, that they are, but he feels the need to have her confirm it as he places one palm on Tess' stomach, blue eyes searching her expression worriedly.
In the hallway, Terenia pushes herself to her feet as Aya passes, following her into the room with the pool. She walks straight up to Keshin and Joanne, ignoring everyone else. Her eyes are dry, but fresh tracks of moisture still cling to her cheeks and there is a hollow, helpless look to her expression.
"Keshin," she says, watching Joanne's blank gaze as the Yeerk reconnects. "Once you're in, I--I need you to do me a favor." She swallows, dropping her gaze.
-
<I would not mind speaking with you again, Aya.> Claxter said. He remembered her Yeerk having a different name than Lanath. Perhaps her Yeerk and his host were missing, so they would just make do with what they could. An hour and twenty minutes seemed like a long time to be in the ship. It wasn't really cramped or anything, but he felt in the mood to take a nice walk in the dome.
<Prince Ossanlin, I was speaking with T.O. Enorryma earlier about continuing my training in flying towards learning to control larger ships. She has offered to help me with it, if you would not mind.>
-
Ossanlin glances at Claxter and nods. <I can think of no-one better-suited to provide flight training. Enorryma could fly an ionized iron box through a Class 5 electrical disturbance and dodge every discharge.> He takes another glance down at the Z-Space display before turning around and heading back out to the Common. He decides to wait for a few more minutes to give Aya time to retrieve Lanath.
-
Myitt reaches up and touches Illim's hand on her shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Oh, hell," she breathes quaveringly, pulling Illim and Daniel into a tight hug, holding him close. She closes her eyes. "You're hurt. What did they do to you?" She keeps her voice low, murmuring in his ear, before pulling back to watch Illim with wide eyes.
She glances over at Ossanlin with a terse nod as her friend leaves the room, but her attention is fixed on her partner and his well being.
Lanath is lifted through the dry air, so still in Aya's hand. He senses her ear and writhes his way inside the relatively unfamiliar cranium.
<<Aya,>> he breathes as soon as he makes contact with her mind. <<You aren't hurt? I...I told Zachary to leave when they ambushed us in the mass exodus. He's alive, if they didn't pursue his escape pod.>> His words tumble out in a rush, just as he lets Aya's memories flood his consciousness. He leaves her in control, only momentarily seizing her sense of sight to survey the med bay room.
Niko, tall and olive-skinned, paces closer to Norry and Claxter. He can't help but overhear their public--if quiet--thought-speech.
He stares at them both, still not used to their exceedingly alien forms, and not without a thrill of foreboding. Yarin had never been on the best of terms with Andalites, in his experience, with the exception of the base's Andalite nothlit.
"Excuse me," he murmurs halteringly in the alien trade tongue, brushing his stringy black hair out of his dark eyes. "I speak a little Galard, and I never mistake that phrase. You're discussing the Space Bar?" He swallows and looks over his shoulder at the others. "It may be that some of our friends will find their way there, if they are not holding at the nearest...ah..." He frowns, trying to think of the words for contingency and rendezvous. "The nearest meeting place." He clears his throat. "My name is Niko Yorgiadis. Niko. I...there is no Yeerk here, anymore." He taps the side of his head, shrugging and looking a bit lost.
-
Claxter smiles at Ossanlin's approval of his training under Enorryma. He didn't expect Ossanlin to fully refuse, but it was good to hear his encouragement.
<Good to meet you, Niko. I am Claxter, and I was speaking of the space Bar. It might be a good idea to check there, along with the other places your people may have met. I am sorry if your Yeerk partner is missing. We will try to do what we can to search for any other survivors, whatever species they may be.>
-
Ossanlin nods to himself after a few minutes have passed before addressing the whole ship. <Hello, once again I am War-Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel. Now that everyone may participate, I would like to discuss our situation. If you could, all please gather in the common at your earliest convenience. I will attempt to explain what has transpired, and answer any questions you may have.> He waits patiently for everyone to gather.
-
Enorryma silently crowed a small victory in her thoughts. An uninfested human! I can speak with this one and trust he is not some slug's mouthpiece. She also winced a bit at Ossanlin's praise, which wasn't so much an exaggeration as the sort of comment which would have given a younger version of herself a big head about the matter. She didn't think she could bring herself to ever truly disapprove of any choice Ossanlin made, because he never seemed to act without a reason... but she also wished he were less eager to deliver compliments. Andalites certainly didn't need anything to add to their arrogance.
<Niko, I am Enorryma, the TO of this crew. After Prince Ossanlin concludes the meeting in the common, perhaps you can help me plot a map of possible meeting places where your allies may be found. Then we can submit the map to Ossanlin so he can decide if it is wise to alter our course.>
-
<<He's alive,>> Aya breathes internally, relieved. <<Thank goodness, I was so worried. Lanath, I--there are so many people missing. This is going to be...>> For the first time she lets her own emotion show through, although externally her expression is still mostly stoic. Inside, though, her grief wells up, easily visible to Lanath.
Dom watches Niko go, following only after Ossanlin's announcement. He finds a spot near the wall, leaning against it and, out of habit, straightening the cuffs of his dirty and rumpled suit jacket. His usual exuberance is nowhere to be found.
"Can you walk okay?" Keslin asks, looking down at Tess' swollen stomach. "Maybe you should rest while I speak with the Andalite." He glances worriedly towards the bridge, then back to Tess. "It's been a stressful time for all of us, but you especially need to relax." He doesn't speak his and Chris' unspoken fear -- that any more duress could force Tess into an early labor, with no human doctor in sight.
Efaen hesitates, not sure if Ossanlin's announcement is meant for her or not. Reluctantly, she inches towards the bridge, giving Terenia and the turelek a wide berth. She hovers in the doorway, gray eyes wide as they take in the scene.
-
Esarvit eagerly makes his way to the common, trotting along with more energy than he expected to have after the fight. He must have gotten lucky with the morph; it's reinvigorated him, somehow. Or maybe he's still fueled by adrenaline, focusing on his nervous energy rather than try and wrap his head around what lies ahead.
Once he reaches the common, he takes his place along the side, keeping a respectful distance from his commander.
-
"I'm alright, Keslin," Tess murmurs, putting a hand lightly over Chris's on her stomach. "They're alright too." She sniffs as she looks up at him. "I'm glad you're okay... I've been so worried." Then she gives a small smile, adding, "If I can just have a place to sit, I want to hear everything this Andalite has to say. How am I supposed to support one of our unfailing leaders if I don't even know what's going on?" She leans forward to kiss his cheek softly, then reaches for the hovering stretcher behind herself, beginning to push it in the direction the small crowd is going so she can use it as a seat.
Illim holds Myitt just as tightly, his host's eyes sliding closed. "I think it's the... the double-oh seven problem," he says with a weak smile, opening his eyes to look at her as she pulls back. "I was shaken... and stirred. Just dizzy or something. It'll go away." He keeps a hand on her back, looking up at Ossanlin's announcement. "Let's go, yeah?" he asks, voice quiet.
-
"Claxter," says Niko, trying out the alien name, then stammering forward in the language that Yarin had taught him. "Thank you for trying to help us. Unfortunately my Yeerk friend is...is dead. But I have other friends I would dearly like to find."
He looks up at the announcement, as if Ossanlin's voice had come from an overhead speaker instead of projected directly into Niko's own mind. "Yes, I'd be happy to help you, En...Enorryma." He parrots the name as best he can. "I am an engineer by trade, and good with computers, although Illim and Daniel would be more adept at using star charts." He smiles, turning his attention to the gathering crew. "Let's discuss after the meeting."
<<I know,>> Lanath says soothingly. <<Aya, please, I feel your pain as deeply as if it were my own. There will be time to grieve. Now we must focus and try to move forward, and find those who are still alive.>> He gently takes control and brings them into the main cabin for the discussion.
Myitt chokes a laugh, half-sobbing, and nods. "Let's go join them," she says with a hiccup, snagging Daniel's left hand--a gray, living metal prosthetic--and walking with him into the cabin.
-
<I will help the others as I have helped you and your people on the ship, Niko.> Claxter said. He left for the common room, and gravitated towards Efaen. He was not very close by Andalite standards, who are not a species of small personal spaces, but along the same wall. He wasn't sure if Ossanlin had any definite plans yet for what they would do, so he wasn't sure what the announcement would be about. Maybe just something along the lines of cooperating with each other.
-
Ossanlin scans over the group with his main eyes, noting the presence of everyone. He takes a few deep breaths before proceeding, calm and stoic like a stone weathered by the elements, but still standing strong and proud. Despite only being thirty years (UGTS) of age, his eyes look older than his years. It was once said that a year of the sights of war added ten to the eyes...and Ossanlin has seen many a year of war.
<Thank you, all of you, for gathering. I realize that all of you are suffering, but life doesn't pause, and I assume most of you crave answers.> Ossanlin pauses a moment before continuing.
<On 02.05.04197 at 0315 UGT, an Andalite armada twenty-five ships strong struck the primary Yeerk Rebellion installation. Andalite intelligence regarding the rebels was severely limited. They...overestimate d the need. I will claim some responsibility in that...I always remained nebulous in the hopes that the uncertainty would make you a less-attractive target. Unfortunately it also made you seem like more of a threat.> He runs his eyes over everyone in the room, continuing.
<Over a hundred rebels were killed. One of the primary Shredder shots penetrated and...ventilated... the pool portion of your complex...the massive breech was too much for your emergency force-fields to negate. By the time Andalite scouts reached the room, the pool had long-since boiled dry in the vacuum. It happened quickly, I doubt the occupants of the pool felt anything.> He pauses again, allowing a moment for grief.
<I was intentionally kept uninformed of the impending attack upon your base. Had I the slightest inkling, I would've sent word, but it is well-known amongst the leaders of the Electorate that Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel is a friend of the Yeerk Rebellion. I intercepted a communication by chance, after the attack had been perpetrated. It was a full report of the aftermath. It was then that I put one of my contingency plans into action.> He continues running his eyes across the crowded room, making sure to make eye contact with every single occupant.
<I had long thought on how to abscond with a Mark III Dreadnought. It was not easy, nor do I expect my deception to hold up under scrutiny, but for now, all of the Andalites you see around you are considered deceased...myself included. I would trust each and every one of them with my life. I made certain that they knew what they were getting into. Each and every individual I asked joined without hesitation, knowing full well that we would all be committing acts of treachery in order to aid Yeerks.> He nods in approval. <I won't say they won't be rough around you, but each of them agreed to give up their Homeworld for this mission.>
<The Electorate have lost their way. They have grown corrupt and power-hungry. They no longer serve the People. They use propaganda and disreputable tactics to control the People. We, none of us, could tolerate their hypocrisy and corruption any longer. They ordered genocide upon your people...allies...because of their arrogance and paranoia. They stripped the Alpha Line to do it and lost our Primary defensive position to the Imperials. Their actions grow more and more self-serving and short-sighted...the Electorate are the true traitors.>
Ossanlin's tone grows a bit more passionate. <We...> He gestures around to include everyone in the room. <...those of us who've given up our homes...who would be labeled "traitor" by our governments still fight for the People. All of us fight for the People, whether they're Andalite, Yeerk, Human, Hork-Bajir, or any of the countless other species that have suffered at the ministrations of the Empire. We fight against tyranny and oppression. Those who have given their lives for this cause would want nothing less.>
Ossanlin pauses for a long moment, letting things sink in. His tone returns to normal. <Our original destination is the Tyrennian. I have only a fourth of my original crew, but I trust each blade as if they were my own. From there, we must regroup with your remaining kinspeople. The reports say that several of you escaped capture or death, and you must've had some missions running at the time. There are others out there. I don't know who or how many, but you must all keep hope alive.>
He pauses again, lowering his main eyes for a moment before returning them to sweep the room. <I have some sad news to share with you. Some of you know, some of you may not.> Ossanlin pauses again, having difficulty forming the words. <Reven and his host James O'Hearn are amongst your most-honored deceased.> He takes a deep breath. <Myitt has informed me as much. One thing is certain, they gave their lives to protect you and all that we hold dear. Mourn them if you must, but celebrate their lives. They accomplished so much...more than the rest of us. Remember their grand deeds and rejoice in the fact that we knew them as we did. I feel privileged that they counted me amongst their friends, and the rest of you should as well.>
Ossanlin falls silent for another long moment, leaving everyone to their thoughts in privacy before continuing on. <His loss leaves a hole...one that will be difficult to fill. I assume that you will choose a new leader once we have reunited with your kin, but for now, I hope you will accept Myitt as your leader pro tempore. Myitt may disparage some aspects of herself, but I know that she is more than capable.>
<I won't ask for your trust or your loyalty...those things must be earned. I hope that some day, I will have those things from all of you. I do not seek to command you or control you...that was never my intention. It is my fervent desire that we may work closely together. My ship, my crew, and I...we are no longer bound by the law of Seerow's Kindness. I believe that we can all accomplish incredible feats together as Seerow first intended...but first we need to be able to work together.> He pauses again.
<We're far from home, all of us. We're alone in this Galaxy and in this war. We have no allies, Rogues drifting on the stellar winds. But together, we are far greater than we are apart. All that I ask from all of you, is a chance to prove it. Let's put aside our differences and find out what Yeerk, Andalite, Human, and Hork-Bajir together are truly capable of.> Ossanlin nods, his tone strong and resolved. <We can afford nothing less.>
He remains silent for a while, eyes still sweeping the room before nodding one final time, taking another deep breath. <We should arrive at the Tyrennian in approximately one hour UGTS. If you have any public questions of me, now is the appropriate time to ask them.>
-
<...Each and every individual I asked joined without hesitation, knowing full well that we would all be committing acts of treachery in order to aid Yeerks....>
Norry's eyes narrowed. He is not lying to pacify them. He means what he is saying. A wave of betrayal and anger surged up through her chest, and she struggled not to let her tail twitch with it. She addressed Ossanlin, her mental voice confused and bitter.
<<No, my Prince. I joined without hesitation to aid humans, former hosts... and to aid you. You are not to blame for my misunderstanding of our purpose here. You never spoke unclearly, but never in my wildest imagining would I have believed you meant your statements earnestly, and not as a cover to...>> her stalk eyes turned away from him, and her main eyes closed. To anybody else in the room, it would look like a moment of solemnity for lives lost.
<<... to keep the humans complacent until they could be freed of the hold their parasites put on their psyches, even uninfested... to keep the slugs cooperative until we got from them some key information you might use later. I never believed you meant it. That was my error.>> Even through the cloud of hate which edged its way into her words, she couldn't bring herself to lay blame on her captain. Her years behind a Shredder and in a ****pit, her countless funerals of wingmen and friends, had left her with a very black-and-white belief system, and those beliefs had no room in them for a leader as wise and strong as Ossanlin to be the source of a moral grey area.
She opened her stalk eyes and carefully backed out of the room, giving a respectful sort of bow as she exited, so that nobody but Ossanlin would know anything was amiss.
<<I am your TO first and all other things last; however, I object to preserving the lives of mind-stealing parasites. My actions in this mission, from this point forward, are with a primary goal of preserving the lives of our human guests and Andalite crew. I shall not sabotage the mission, harm the passengers, contaminate ship morale, or act against your orders, but I will not be remembered as a Yeerk-sympathizer, even now that the Homeworld thinks me dead.>>
She fled back to the control room, feeling sick and lost, needing to watch the familiar twists of Z-space before she could collect and refocus her thoughts. Sky forgive me that I ever got involved in this. Better that he had left me behind, where I would believe him dead, and remember him as free of their influence.
No, she couldn't fault Ossanlin for this... but at the same time, she could still force him to carry the weight of it along with her. It was a commanding officer's job to know his crew inside and out, and she would make very certain he knew where she stood.
<<What I do not understand, Sir, is why you chose me to recruit, when you know how many of them I have killed, and how eagerly I would return to that task if the chance was given to me.>>
She walked to the nearest navigational console and pulled up a map of this arm of the galaxy and waited for Niko to return and help her attempt to plot other Rebel locations. He might still be brainwashed by his long-dead slug, but at least he wasn't infested anymore, and Norry would try to find some solace in that, while she could.
-
Keslin remains near Tess, listening in silence to the Andalite as he speaks. One hand finds his partner's, fingers lacing together as he squeezes her hand. His expression is solemn, eyes downcast. When Ossanlin brings up the loss of James and Reven his fingers tighten and he very nearly loses his composure.
<<God, James,>> Chris mourns, his grief for his younger cousin palpable, and just as strong as his guilt for outliving him.
<<We will do his memory proud, my human friend,>> Keslin murmurs, though his own sorrow makes his attempt at comfort fall somewhat flat.
<<What happened to their kid? Where's Makayla?>> Chris asks, the thought that the entire family may have died almost too much for him to bear.
<<I do not know.>> Keslin turns his attention outward. This proves to be a bad move, however, because as soon as he focuses on the expressions of his surviving comrades he nearly loses it, emotion forming a tight ball in his throat and tears springing to his eyes.
"By the Kandrona," he whispers to himself, struggling to keep his composure as Ossanlin continues. He glances over at Myitt when he proclaims her leader, noting that the Andalite seems to have a misconception regarding how the base was run. He decides to let it slide, for now, but resolves to speak to Myitt later. Only an Andalite would be fool enough to think that we would rest the weight of leadership on one person, he thinks, a thought he does not share with his host.
<<Myitt is our leader?>> Aya asks of Lanath, sounding surprised. Despite her misgivings towards Keslin, the idea of following Myitt and solely Myitt does not sit well with her, though the idea of working with Andalites has promise. She does not dwell on it too long, paying careful attention to what is going on around her. She notes Norry's exit, the grief on the faces of her friends, and the inherent power Ossanlin seems to have when it comes to controlling an audience.
Efaen listens in silence. There is no grief on her face, and she clearly feels out of place. She finds herself almost glad when Norry takes her leave, and she backpedals out of the room, trying not to draw attention to herself as she follows. Not that spending extended time with Andalites is any better, she reminds herself as she slinks behind Norry towards the bridge. She isn't trying to hide, not really. Efaen knows there is no way to truly hide from an Andalite. She just attempts to remain as inconspicuous as possible and, when she reaches the bridge, she finds a spot against the back wall where she can lean, folding her arms across her chest and looking at the floor, brooding.
-
Ossanlin doesn't allow his eyes to narrow at Norry's thoughts. <<I was very clear, Enorryma. You knew that Yeerks would be helped by this mission. Rebels, not Imperials. There is a very large difference, Enorryma. You have lived longer than I, you've been under the thumb of the Electorate and their propaganda longer. I did not say you gave up the Homeworld for them, I said you gave up the Homeworld for this mission. It is an important one, Enorryma...I can't think of one any more important. You must understand, Enorryma...we have a unique opportunity here. We can lay the groundwork for an era of peace. Not one of Yeerk dominion or genocide, but true cooperation. I did not say that our only purpose was to aid the Rebel Yeerks...but I did everything I could to make everyone painfully aware of the fact that we would be helping Yeerk rebels. I am sorry...if you chose not to hear that.>>
Ossanlin gives no outward signs that he is speaking to Enorryma as he continues, but his tone is expressive. <<Enorryma, your view is drawn along species lines. If you stay with me, I will still expect you to kill Yeerks...possibly a great many. But they will be Imperials, Enorryma. No species is homogenous in thought. These few...these rebels...were brave enough to forsake their government and commit treason for their ideals. You see, Enorryma, these Yeerks could subjugate their hosts just as much as any other, but they choose not to, and that is an incredible distinction. Their hosts are not mere vessels or tools, they are people to them. They choose friendship over dominion. None of them would take a host that was not voluntary. If one of their hosts suddenly decided that they no longer wished to be infested, any of these Yeerks would leave and never return, even if it meant living out their lives blind in a pool of sludge. Enorryma, these hosts and Yeerks are allies...comrades.. .partners...friends .>>
<<I included you because you are one of my most-trusted companions.>> He sighs internally. <<Perhaps it was selfish of me to do so. I apologize, Enorryma. I need you...but...I will not force you to participate in a mission for ideals in which you do not believe.>> He pauses a moment. <<If you wish it, Enorryma, I will allow you to take one of the remaining Tail-Fighters from the Tyrennian. It is not implausible to believe that you would've been deployed to a fighter in a desperate situation. We can score the hull and make it look as though you had to perpetrate multiple repairs from inside the ****pit.>> He falls silent a moment. <<I sincerely hope you do not take this option, but I will not order you to stay...if I do, I am no better than the corrupt politicians we left behind. If anyone deserves the choice, Enorryma, it's you, and you're the only one to whom it will ever be offered...but there is a very small window of opportunity to retain plausibility.>>
-
Claxter remains at the wall after the speech was done. He wasn't surprised Ossanlin wanted Myitt to be in charge, since Myitt was the one rebel he trusted the most. He wasn't sure if he wanted to follow Enorryma back into the ****pit. She would probably want to start charting maps with Niko instead of making idle chat with him. His stalk eye drifted to Aya, and an idea hatched. He wanted to ensure Efaen's safety, but he wasn't sure if he could find enough space on the ship to really have a private conversation.
He walked over to her. <Aya and Lanath, may I ask what your opinions of Terenia and Efaen are? Also if you would be interested in helping me with something?> He said quietly. <Given Efaen's uncomfortability around Andalites, I believe I require help from someone who is not an Andalite.>
-
Norry's tone was exasperated when she replied. <<As long as these humans host Yeerks or are surrounded by other infested humans, how can we trust that they tell the truth when they say they are not forced into it? If they speak against their own Controller during a moment of freedom, how do we know they are not punished for it once their Controller is back inside their brain?>> She adjusted the navigation screen so that it zoomed in on four regions of the galaxy where she remembered seeing particularly unusual Z-space formations in the past. Maybe the Space Bar was in one of those places. If it was, then where else might the fabric of the universe be wearing a bit thin?
<<No, Sir, I will not abandon this mission. I will not have it weighing on my conscience for the rest of my life that I left my Prince alone on a vessel full of Yeerks and Andalites of dubious alignment. If there is ever a time when you have needed another quad of eyes protecting your life and interests, this will be it. I may have agreed to this mission out of a stupid misunderstanding, but I shall keep to my post. Anyway, I am terrible at lying, and no doubt the Electorate would have very prying questions which would sabotage your mission. By all accounts, you are safer with me here.>>
She turned her stalk eyes toward the entrance of the bridge and noted Efaen's arrival. She sighed mentally and addressed Ossanlin in a somewhat more subdued tone.
<<I shall make this bargain with you: Presently I will be spending time with Niko, the uninfested human whose Controller died. I can trust, if nothing else, that if I ask about the nature of so-called voluntary hosting, he will answer without the fear of reprisal from his own Controller. If his statements lead me to believe that it is as you say... then I shall reconsider my position and attitude regarding the Yeerks among our passengers. Consider this a... an attempt at good faith.>> The idea still made her skin crawl, but Ossanlin's conviction, combined with her own conviction that Ossanlin could not be completely wrong about something, forced her to approach a compromise with her own views.
<<All I ask in return is that you do not go anywhere alone with any three or more of them while they are armed. They outnumber us even on our own ship, and I do not trust our less combat-ready crew members to be as careful with their own survival. If you fall to a Dracon weapon proving less loyal than you believe, then all our hours are numbered.>>
She turned toward Efaen for a moment and gave a curt nod in greeting. <I do not know you, but I have no objection to you being here, if this is where you need to be to avoid everybody else. The bridge can be a good place for solitude. We can simply stay out of each other's way, which will be easier to do on the Tyrennian.>
She turned back to the navigation panel and left her stalk eyes facing the entrance of the bridge.
-
Myitt is silent throughout Ossanlin's speech, observing Tara's thoughts distractedly.
<<I can't believe he's gone,>> Tara whispers, touched by Ossanlin's improvised eulogy, still shaken by grief. <<They're gone, and how many others?>>
<<Not us,>> the Yeerk mutters bitterly.
Myitt herself is drawn back out of her internal dialogue by the sound of her name.
She blinks owlishly around the room, itching slowly at her bare arm. Then she raises a hand.
"Hi," she says in a low, grim voice, feeling very much out of place. "Um. Yes. Thank you, Ossanlin, for your kind words. We're all allies now, and I know that our people, those of us who have survived the attack against the rebellion, we..." She hesitantly looks around at the unfamiliar Andalite faces. "There are no words for how grateful we are. Ah. For those of you who don't...know me, my name is Myitt One-Nine-Five. My human friend here is named Tara LaFauci. And in...in light of my brother's death, and James'..." She swallows, dark eyes searching the room. She finds Daniel and Chris and nods, gaining some strength from them. "Tara and I will lead you as best I can, but our Andalite comrades should know that we do not lead alone, or work alone. We will need to gather the surviving members of the Council, or at the very least initiate a new election."
She frowns as Enorryma backpedals out of the room, noting Ossanlin's pensive silence, but her attention turns back to the others--her friends, her tentative allies.
<<It would appear she is, for the time being,>> Lanath comments to Aya, <<although I do recall you once were on the Council, Aya.>> Solemnly he watches her emotions bubble.
Aya's eyes blink into focus as he realizes Claxter is addressing him.
"Ah," he says with a polite smile. "It has been a very long time since I have been in the company of Andalites. He frowns, puzzled. "How, precisely, do you know Terenia and Efaen, if I might ask?"
Niko sighs, his voice hitching with emotion as Ossanlin pays tribute to his fallen friends and leaders.
Eager to distract himself from his grief, he paces to Daniel's side. "I'm going to speak with the Andalite TO, Enorryma." He watches the other man, expression stoic. "We're going to try and find the most likely contingency trajectories, and I could use your expertise."
He pats Daniel on the shoulder and smiles sadly at Myitt.
"Don't get us shot up while I'm gone," he tells her wryly, though without much humor, before heading in the direction of the control room.
-
<I met Terenia and Efaen when she came to the sapce bar, and am the one who initially freed Efaen from slavery under Terenia.> Claxter said. <I went through a few things in regards to them, and it and ended when Terenia convinced Efaen to join the rebellion. Due to difference in time, a year passed outside the bar, while only a few days passed where I was.>
<Now so much has happened that I am unaware of, but due to Terenia's repeated death threats towards Efaen, I feel she's still in danger. I was wondering if efaen trusts you, and if you cared for her safety.>
-
Ossanlin nods to Myitt as she begins to speak, but continues his conversation with Enorryma. <<None of them were infested during the rescue, Enorryma. Did you see them begging us to leave the Yeerks in their cells? None of them were infested during the first portion of this flight...did they voice anything but concern for their Yeerk comrades? And did they not come willingly, even eagerly, to the pool to be reunited with their friends?>> He pauses again. <<If it means you will try to see in a different light, I will honor your request unless extreme circumstances demand otherwise.>> Internally he breathes a sigh of relief. He hadn't expected Enorryma to take the option, he thought he knew her better than that, and the very same issues with her return to the Homeworld had occurred to him as well...but even those he thought he knew well had surprised him in the past, his main eyes resting on Myitt unbidden at the thought. He nods again at Myitt's thanks.
<Of course, as I mentioned, finding the rest of your kin is priority one. I will not interfere in your internal politics after that point, but to ensure a safe and speedy recovery of your survivors, I do ask you to temporarily accept this arrangement as a necessity.> He pauses, looking around the room one last time, stalk eye following Efaen's progress...the bridge was not that big...it must be getting crowded in there by now...before continuing. <If there are no further questions, I....> Ossanlin falls completely silent as a portion of the common-room ceiling seems to bow and stretch and twist as if it were liquid being warped by a disturbance of some sort before settling back to its original pattern. His main eyes widen and he twists around to the bridge just as Leskel calls out for him.
<Sir! I don't know what's happening...I...I can't keep up with it! Look!> Leskel gestures at the Z-Space display and the whole arrangement seems to be shifting in some random pattern. In all his time aboard a ship in Z-Space, Ossanlin has never seen the like. Waves and whorls and disturbances twist the map of Z-Space, starting and ending with the same alacrity. He's never been in the middle of such a large and active Z-Space shift before.
Ossanlin wastes no time. <Enorryma, you have the helm. Leskel, try to plot developing disturbances and see if you can find any pattern. We can't risk a drop from Z-Space, but I don't want to see what those disturbances will do to biological matter.> He already had some idea of what they would do...ships that had crossed Z-Space planes or "wakes" had lost entire crews...
<Esarvit, report to the bridge immediately!> Ossanlin calls to his sensors officer. <I need you to search for and plot gravimetric micro-anomalies...>
He scans the room again. <Efaen...please vacate the bridge.> Though he uses the pleasantry, his tone makes the statement a command rather than a request.
-
Keshin, for his part, entered his own host during this time without incident. It took a bit longer than he expected, but sometimes he lingered longer than normal. It was glorious to see again, wonderful to breathe real air out of his perfect human lungs. Keshin had enjoyed his male Hork-Bajir, had enjoyed the power and the strength of that ironically guileless race. Much as the creature had hated him, he had entertained the idea that the thing was his pet. But a human body---a flexible, lightning-fast infinitely versatile machine---he had preferred them from the very moment he met Joanne. And naturally, Joanne herself. In her heart and mind he had his most coveted prize.
<I am happy to see you,> he stated honestly and with uncommon warmth for him.
<Kess....oh god Kess, you have no idea,> stated Joanne's thought-voice, rapidly sending emotions and images to him as if desperate to spew it all out. <I've missed you so much. We're on the ruddy Andalite's ship. He saved us. Him. The guy we almost killed. We gotta do somethin' for 'im an' Myitt. We owe 'em and we got nowhere else to go.>
<People like us have plenty of places to go,> states Keshin matter-of-factly. <We'll ride this boat until we're otherwise disposed. If you want to stick around awhile to repay what you see as a debt, I suppose I don't mind the sojourn.> Joanne's eyes snap open, glancing about the room warily and instantly noticing Terenia. She had...spoken to him. She had said...she wanted a favor? She looked....terrified . Lost. Even more so than she typically was. This...could not be good. The three of them were alone in this room.
Keshin glances at Terenia with an incredulous look, almost a grin. "When last we met, we were trying to kill you. You either don't remember or you're a bit stupid. If you want to die, this really is not a good time. We need to contribute something to the ship and the alliance if we intend to survive the next year. Killing a crew member isn't a good start. I can't see how you'd make it worth our while."
-
Myitt. And Tarala? Esarvit tries to remember, wondering whether he can program the computer to just learn all these slugs' names for him. Bad enough trying to tell members of another species apart, now he has to learn two different names at once...This is going to be an extremely long voyage.
His stalk eyes are roving rather than bothering to memorize the other human faces, so he immediately notices the Z-Space disturbance, and has bounded towards Ossanlin even before the order is complete. <Of course, Captain!> he yells in reply, having already booted up his computer and run initial broad-scale scans. They won't tell him anything of importance, though, he needs the bridge's specialized equipment.
He arrives at the bridge and begins the scan, focusing in with his main eyes while his stalk eyes scan the display. Intuition matters for the true scholar, of course; from his initial guesses it seems like a distortion of two-dimensional shear, locally bounded by quadratic variance.
<The analysis will finish shortly, but I would watch for singularities. If this guess is correct, beyond a certain distance, matter will be quadratically escaping from these micro-anomalies, but at short range, they will pull matter in. Still, wait for it to conclude.>
-
<Waiting is not really an option, Esarvit, but I will take your analysis under advisement.> Enorryma immediately took the helm and fell into the tight focus she reserved only for tail-fights, dogfights, and Z-space maelstroms. She exited the star mapping programme to free up processing for the ship's computer, and with one hand on the key input and the other palm flat on the touch-thought interface, she worked quickly and carefully to tease the ship away from the trans-dimensional ripples which threatened to shred the hull.
In a several-second lull between two moderate waves, she pulled one of her stim capsules from her utility pack, dropping it onto the bridge floor and crushing it underhoof in a too-familiar motion, not caring who saw it but also fairly certain that nobody had the eyes to spare for watching her get her fix. Immediately the icy rush of the stimulant sent her metabolism into high gear, and everything on the viewscreen in front of her seemed to slow down and gain a pristine clarity. Objectively she knew that each twitch took half a second or longer, but right now everything was smooth, precise, and logical in the vast coiling whiteness outside the ship. The ship was an extension of her hands and hooves and mind, and even though it was quite a bit bulkier than a fighter vessel, it moved obligingly as she directed it.
At a deeper level, in a more quiet part of her mind, she mused, Good thing I did not leave when offered the chance. These vortices are absolutely beastly.
As if on queue, something amorphous and large detached from one of the waves to their left, and Enorryma had to do a sharp jigging motion to dodge it. Other blobs became visible in the near distance. <Prince Ossanlin, you may want to tell the passengers to prepare for turbulence.>
-
Tess sniffs, bringing a hand up to wipe at her residual tears from Ossanline's speech and, particularly, the names of Reven and James. Losing Chris's cousin--the Yeerk and human duo that the mere idea of rejoining had given her lovers purpose for a decade--was unthinkable. Horribly tragic.
Her other hand still in Chris's, she takes her eyes from Myitt to him as she finishes speaking and leans towards him to whisper, "We'll create a new Council, surely. I trust Myitt but... she isn't the most level-headed Yeerk I--"
She cuts herself off as Ossanlin abruptly seems to lead the Andalites into a flurry. "What is it?" she whispers to Chris and Keslin, eyes widening. If they're in pursuit or something worse... I don't know if I can handle it, she thinks, her tear-dampened fingers dropping to press lightly against her stomach.
Illim squeezes Myitt's hand after her quiet speech. "Well done," he murmurs quietly, only looking away from her when Niko touches his shoulder. "I think we've had enough gunfire for one day," he replies with a small, sad smile, returning his gaze to Myitt. "We should talk about this, the reformation of the Council. I know it's early, in the face of all our losses, but these Andalites don't know us. Not the way we--"
He falls silent, head swiveling towards Ossanlin and the bridge. "What do you think's going on?" he frowns, keeping his voice down.
-
The momentum of the ship changes sharply as Enorryma dodges anomalies, the inertial dampeners unable to keep up with the high-end maneuvers. Ossanlin widens his stance and sways with the ship's shifts naturally, hands on one of the consoles...he hadn't done this since his last battle in a Tail-Fighter fresh out of the Academy. He furrows his brow slightly as Norry drops a stim-cap on the floor and crushes it. It was her vice...but this wasn't the time or place for any type of discussion.
<It would probably be best if you all sat down.> He announces to the ship at large as he represses a grunt and sways, bracing with a particularly sharp turn. He doesn't bother to upbraid Leskel...that could wait. These types of major disturbances always showed signs of formation on the projected Z-Space map. Ossanlin uses his console to boost the energy supply to the braking and maneuvering thrusters to threshold, monitoring the Z-Drive unit. If a fluctuation hit that...Ossanlin leaves the thought unfinished.
Leskel gives up complete control to Enorryma, showing no signs of discomfit. He immediately begins trying to project patterns of Z-Space modulation.
-
Claxter grew nervous when the ship seemed to change shape, and Ossanlin suddenly left to take control of the problem. The turbulence afterwards made him even more nervous, and he leaned against the nearby wall for support. His fight or flight instincts were kicking in, but there was nothing to fight and nowhere to go. He would have to rely on Ossanlin and Enorryma to see them out of this.
<Z-Space is shifting with us still inside.> He said, unable to completely conceal his growing fear. He had managed to control it while in a near helpless state before, during the battle, but he had allied fighting against Andalites. This was their very reality shifting and bending as they tried to get out of it, and there wasn't anything he could do about it but try to maintain his balance and wait. His eyes all tracked frantically around him. He couldn't just aim his shredder at the threat and make it go away. All he could do was wait, and try not to become totally panicked.
-
Terenia stares at Keshin for a long moment. Then she shrugs and nods, ducking her head. "Thanks anyway," she mutters, turning away. She finds a place against the wall and slides down it, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest. When the ship starts rocking violently she shows no indication of noticing, or caring.
Keslin grips Tess' hand, almost thrown off of his feet from the sudden jerking of the shift. "Feels like a Z-Space shift," he says, steadying himself against the wall. "Stay here."
<<You can't honestly be thinking about-->>
<<You have a better idea?>>
<<Not really, no.>>
Keslin makes his way onto the bridge, which is teeming with Andalites. He resists the urge to cringe back, instead making his way up to Ossanlin directly. "I might be able to assist in piloting," he says. The ship lurches and he shifts his stance, staying remarkably well-balanced, despite his trembling. "I lived on a ship for almost a decade, and I spent a lot of that time in Z-space. I'm no fighter pilot, but I know how to keep a fleet from turning into shrapnel."
Efaen winces at Ossanlin's order, both relieved to retreat the sudden flurry of activity and dejected, the only Andalite specifically ordered off the bridge. Fine, she thinks to herself. I don't want to be by them anyway. Unfortunately, she is not nearly as good on two legs as four, despite her ample time spent in human morph. She staggers into a wall, nearly tripping over Terenia as she makes her way back into the other room.
"****," she hisses, finally losing her balance and falling to her knees. She grunts in irritation and begins to demorph.
<<Is he aware of Efaen's memory wipe?>> Aya murmurs. <<Or the fact that Terenia does not currently look to be in any condition to kill anyone?>> She cannot control her eyes to glance towards Terenia, but she saw her earlier. She looked positively devastated. <<Here, let me talk to him, Lanath.>>
-
Ossanlin spares a stalk eye for Keslin. <These consoles are designed for partial or total thought interface.> He pauses, glancing over at Leskel who appears to be having trouble plotting the encroaching pattern. <If you truly have appropriate experience, help Leskel plot and project the disturbance paths for Enorryma.>
-
Keslin nods. "If you want us to work together, they will have to be adapted," he warns. There was no way he was going to leave all of the piloting up to the Andalites. For the time being, though, there was nothing to be done. He scans the room, looking for whichever Andalite 'Leskel' might be. He identifies him by the holoscreens hovering around him, rather than the Andalite's appearance itself. To Keslin, they all look more or less the same.
Hesitating only for a brief moment, Keslin approaches the Andalite. "Let me help," he says, gesturing for Leskel to give him command of one of the holoscreens.
-
Keshin's reacts to the rocking of the ship by attempting to gain his footing, darting against the nearest wall and bracing his back against it. He notes that Terenia is totally unaffected by the ship's turbulence. Oh geez, that woman. Keshin hopes there is a way to fix what's wrong with her head before she does something that compromises the entire voyage.
<Dammit, this is a really bad time for a disaster. Haven't we already been through Hell?>
<Come on Kess, ain' the only time stuff has sucked righ' after we were relaxed. You jus' gotta brace yourself.>
<We have to get to Ossanlin in the others somehow to determine what happened. Can you move with balance in the ship while it's shaking?>
<Uh...sorta. Don' coun' on it bein' too impressive, though. I ain' gonna get myself killed jus' 'cause you're an information ****.>
Joanne glances around as Keshin relaxes his grip, gripping the side of a wall and attempting to move herself about. It wasn't easy, so she wasn't going to go very fast. Joanne shudders and backs quickly against the wall when another tremor shakes the ship, waiting for the next opportunity to move. "Don' die jus' yet, huh?" she says rather unhelpfully in Terenia's direction. "There's only so many of us on this boat, and everyone counts."
<Did you need to say that? We don't need to be involved.>
<.....I don' like lookin' at people who've got no friends.>
-
<All right,> Esarvit announces, as soon as the system beeps. <Julian-model fractal shear, at least to first order.> He doesn't bother to mention that he'd hypothesized as much; there are more important things to worry about. <I would recommend setting a linear course, the direction doesn't matter at this point as long as we can get out of range. And quickly.>
-
Aya's expression hardens just slightly as Lanath regards Claxter.
<<Are you certain this is wise, Aya?>> Lanath sighs. << I do not relish the idea of discussing what happened.>> He relinquishes control, just in time for the floor to rock with the nauseating pulse of shifting z-space.
Myitt gives Daniel and Illim a watery smile. "Thanks," she says softly, cupping his hand in hers. She sucks in a breath to speak her mind about the Council arrangement, but the jarring shifting movement is all the explanation she needs for Illim's question.
"Z-space shift," she mutters, staggering a little to keep her balance, letting go of Daniel's hand. "****. We should get buckled up, huh? Let's...yeah, let's do that." She shifts her weight against the wavering inertia, bumping into her husband with a little yelp. "Quickly. Uh huh."
She pulls Illim along toward the common room's nearest wall, for lack of chairs, and sits heavily.
<<Andalites could really use a visit from a good armchair salesman,>> Tara tries to joke, attempting to sound wistful.
Niko braces himself unexpectedly against the smooth metal wall, wincing as he straightens himself.
He peers up at the ceiling. "What the hell was that?" he whispers, though no one is near enough to hear. He's just step foot onto the bridge, clinging to the edge of the wall as the room widens.
Recognizing Enorryma, he nods, but another shift in z-space and Ossanlin's warning make him slide to the floor to watch the Andalites and Keslin set to work. Niko hugs his knees, clad in blue jeans. He cannot help but think--rather manically--that they are in sore need of a wash, and he wrinkles his nose.
-
<Get out of range, you say, and direction does not matter? I can do that.>
Norry gave the ship a command to go straight 'up' and left at a steep angle, then swung it around so that the distortions were below and behind the ship. It felt similar to riding the mag-lift at the fighter training center, and she unconsciously braced her legs in resistance to being suddenly heavier by an extra G or two. The ship lurched forward suddenly as it escaped the resistance imposed by the vortices, and the sense of added weight went away. She kept it on its escape trajectory until the turbulence had been gone for several seconds, then carefully slowed into a flight path which didn't show any major warping.
<Prince Ossanlin, I believe we are clear of the worst of it, but until we have more data returns from the ship's computers, I will not know how far we have traveled off course. We have rotated partially through all three spatial axes, so I do not know where we would emerge, if we were to exit Z-space now. I have slowed the ship minimally to avoid traveling exceedingly off-course. Leskel and Esarvit collectively know more about our original projected flight path than I do. With your permission, I will yield the helm to them now.>
The stimulant would not wear off completely for another half hour, but it was already hitting its last plateau, processed rapidly by her high metabolism and her high tolerance for the substance. It had felt good to be in control of a ship again, in a hazard situation, but I would trade this glorified bucket for a tail-fighter any day.
-
Ossanlin taps a few touch-panels on his console to survey the situation as Z-Space calms down. <We shouldn't be alive...good job Enorryma...good job everyone.>
Leskel does show a bit of discomfit at handing over any part of the ship to a controller, but the expression smooths quickly as he allows Keslin to access the panels.
Ossanlin nods in acquiescence to Enorryma's request, and then glances over at Keslin. <You say you've spent a lot of time in Z-Space...do you have experience re-calculating Z-Space trajectories?> Ossanlin begins pulling up the appropriate information regarding origin, destination, and deviation.
-
Enorryma stepped away from the main console and moved toward the edge of the room, giving a clear path for anybody who needed to pass into the bridge. She disliked the idea of a Yeerk having anything to do with the ship's controls, but she trusted that nothing underhanded could get past the notice of Leskel, Esarvit, and Ossanlin.
She found Niko near the entrance of the bridge. <If you are interested in sharing map information with those in charge of navigation, they are currently plotting a revision to our course.>
-
When Leskel hands over control, Keslin releases it, letting Chris follow his instructions. As soon as the human is in control of his body the trembling in his hands ceases and his fingers fly over the holoscreen deftly as Chris listens to Keslin's commands.
When the turbulence finally slows, Chris sighs with relief, stepping back. Keslin resumes control, glancing over at Ossanlin and nodding. "Some more successful than others," he says, "but I got pretty good at it over the years." He looks at the holoscreen, and the Andalite script that accompanies the images. "Is there a way to translate this into Galard?" he asks.
Almost the moment Lanath releases control to Aya the ship begins to lurch, so she is prevented from responding for a good couple of minutes, tottering over to a wall and leaning against it heavily. <<Damn Z-Space shifts,>> she breathes. <<I hate these.>>
She is silent for the duration of the turbulence. When it finally seems to slow, she hesitates, making sure that she has her balance, before turning back to Claxter. "I don't know Efaen well. She was in quarantine when I arrived on the base, and shortly afterwards her memory was wiped. I've never spoken to her, personally. Terliss never had any interest in working with Andalites, no matter what the state of their memories."
Aya hesitates, not particularly happy to talk about Terliss, or Terenia. Her discomfort shows in her expression. "Terenia was...is..." She sighs. "I wouldn't worry about her being dangerous. She's been through a lot, and the only person she seems to pose a threat to these days is herself." She bites her lip, guilt shooting through her. "I didn't count Mike or Corliss among the survivors, which is probably how Efaen got away with her ruse so long. If they're dead, I'm not sure what to expect from Terenia, honestly. I think they were the only ones holding her together."
Terenia spares Keshin and Joanne a glance. Her shoulders lift in a dull shrug. "What do you care if I live or die?" she asks the turelek. She doesn't seem to be expecting an answer.
Efaen finishes demorphing just as the ship ceases its rocking. On four legs once more, she looks around with her stalk eyes, taking better stock of her surroundings with four eyes than two. As soon as she is done with her initial sweep of the area, though, her stalk eyes move to face forward, following the same direction as her main eyes.
Opting to stay off from the bridge, she nevertheless inches towards the entrance, curious. For the time being, she remains in Andalite form, too tired to remorph immediately. She does keep her tail tucked close to her back, however, in a clearly submissive stance. It is obvious from the way she moves that she is uncomfortable with her own anatomy. She steps back when Enorryma passes, looking away.
-
Claxter was still plenty nervous about what was going on, and hoped they's drop out of Z-Space as soon as possible. His conversation with Aya and Lanath was helping him focus on other things, though.
<I don't know what is going through Terenia's head. Given that she killed her siblings, whom she liked, I'd say she'd be more than willing to kill someone she doesn't. especially if she's unhinged enough to not care if she's killed soon afterwards. I don't know if she's more or less of a threat, but I think she's ruined Efaen's life quite enough already without making death threats. Was she even made to apologize and make reparations for enslaving Efaen and forcing her to work for Visser Three for Terenia's own self centered agenda?>
<So she decided to kill a bunch of Yeerks with barium soon after getting out of quarantine? Was she just trying to gain enough trust to be let loose so she could destroy the rebels? Why would she do that? She went to the rebellion as a spy, or that was what she told Prince Ossanlin. Surely no order came from him to kill Yeerks. This mystery surrounding her killing rebels and having her memory erased is confusing.>
-
Aya sighs, looking exasperated. <<Is this what it is like to talk to all Andalites?>> she asks Lanath.
"I wasn't on base when the barium attack occurred," she says as patiently as she can. "All I know are the details that were put in the public records, and what others have said. From what I understand, Efaen -- the old Efaen -- came to the base with Andalite permission. I'm assuming that permission came from Ossanlin, based on what you've said. It is also my understanding that when Efaen attacked the pool she was acting of her own volition. She received no Andalite orders to do such a thing, or if she did they haven't been uncovered." She shrugs. "Maybe she went to the base under orders, but has it occurred to you that perhaps her true intentions were to cause as much damage as possible on what she perceived to be her enemies? Regardless of orders?"
-
<I'm quite sure she had no positive feelings for the rebels, though I'm not sure what she really intended to gain if doing that was her plan the entire time.> He said. Apparently Aya didn't believe Terenia was a threat, despite some evidence to the contrary. <Thank you anyway. Maybe if we're lucky, Terenia will jump out of an airlock on her own or something.>
He straightened up and left Aya to go see Efaen. He wasn't sure if he could find a rebel to help watch Efaen, but he'd try to do what he could.
<Does it look like they have things under control now?> He asked her. He peeked inside, seeing one of the rebels at the controls. He figured whatever increased their chances of living was good enough. <I hope your ally in there knows what he's doing.>
-
<<****,>> Aya mutters internally as Claxter moves away. She was no friend to Terenia, but she had more than enough reason to want to prevent further harm from coming to her fellow rebel.
Efaen glances at Claxter, then back to the bridge where Keslin is working on learning the Andalite controls as rapidly as possible.
<From what I understand, he spent a long time living in space. Almost ten years,> she says mildly. <He was the leader of another rebellion, aside from Reven's. More than half the people here answer to him, not Reven.> She lifts her shoulder in a shrug -- a very human gesture. <If nothing else, that amount of time on board a ship means that he became familiar with piloting them, in both Z-Space and normal space.>
-
<I'm sure it would be hard to live in space for ten years. I suppose it's quite possible, given the kind of war we're in, and how long it takes to get from place to place. At least Andalite ships have domes, so we bring a little piece of home with us. I hadn't really thought of Z-Space as being very dangerous until today, but apparently it has its dangers as well.> He was grateful that Efaen hadn't brushed him off. Perhaps she was willing to try to open up with him a bit.
-
Ossanlin shakes his head at Keslin. <This craft was never intended for usage by anyone but Andalites. It is considered to be my Captain's Yacht...or was. I made some personal "adjustments" to it.> He pauses for a moment of thought before continuing. <It is possible, however, to switch textual and non-visual data into thought-speech output.> Ossanlin does so, transferring the relevant positional data to the display that Keslin is working at. <You may run a finger over any text listed on the display and the computer will transmit the information to you via thought-speech.>
-
Keslin nods. "Perfect. Thanks." He turns back to the controls, giving Leskel a tentative smile as he familiarizes himself. Anytime he does not understand something, he highlights the text and the translation is sent directly to his mind in the typical Andalite fashion.
<<I must admit, this is the oddest form of translation I have experienced,>> Keslin murmurs to Chris.
<<We should make sure Tess is okay,>> Chris says worriedly, his attention pulled away from the alien technology.
<<I know,>> Keslin responds. <<We will in just a moment. For the time being, though, it is important that we establish ourselves as valuable. As of now we are little more than cargo to most of the Andalites here.>>
<A piece of your home, perhaps,> Efaen says sullenly, the bulk of her attention still on the bridge. <I have no home, and if I did it is certainly not your homeworld. The only thing I have been met with there is persecution.>
-
<I am sorry for what you've been through. Just think of it as trees, grass, and water then. Just a place to stretch your legs, and look at something besides gray walls or the expanse of space. I am sure that if we survive this war, we can find a place to call home. Just please try to keep an open and optimistic mind. That's what I'm trying to do, anyway.>
<You seem to have a preference for your Human form. Why pick Human, if I may ask?>
-
Ossanlin addresses the ship at large with open thought. <Everyone, I apologize for the turbulence...we flew through the middle of a rather active Z-Space shift. We have cleared the phenomenon and are recalculating our trajectory. It is safe to move around the common again.>
He begins poring over the wealth of sensor information provided by flying through the middle of the maelstrom. Ships tended to avoid these phenomena like the plague, and they're almost impossible to project or predict. No ship in Ossanlin's memory has ever accomplished such a feat and survived. Perhaps it had been a happy accident...what could a skilled theoretical physicist tease out of this information? He nods. Perhaps things would start going right for a change...
-
Efaen considers Claxter's question, her main eyes still on the bridge, rather than him. She remembers Ossanlin's words regarding the warrior, and is determined to show that she is not merely blindly writing off the Andalite's. Even if they have given me no reason to love them, she thinks bitterly.
<They are one of the only species I have any memory of kindness from,> she settles on at last. <In addition, the occupants of the rebel base were uncomfortable seeing me in my natural form, given what I did to them. It became...comfortabl e.>
-
<I'm glad that's over.> Claxter said, sighing with relief.
<That sounds reasonable. I'm met both good and bad Humans. Like other sentient creatures, they are capable of different personalities. I went to Earth once, and the plants were very green. The planet itsself is mostly water. I think I have a Human morph, but I forget what it looks like.>
-
Niko shakily climbs to his feet, bracing against the wall for support.
He stares blankly at Enorryma for a moment, blinking, until his addled mind can make the switch back to Galard from English. That strange way the Andalites had of simply conveying what they meant, almost beyond words, dragged Niko even more fully into the realm of comprehension.
"Um," he says, clearing his throat and running a hand through his unkempt, greasy black hair. "Yes, I'd be glad to help. Illim should be here shortly as well, he will have a better grasp of the star charts, though I can provide assistance with the evacuation protocol and the possible meeting sites." He exhales, the exertion of shifting both z-space and language making his head throb. "Show me where I can search, please, Enorryma. The sooner we have a set path, the better."
A sharp pang of irritation runs through Lanath at the mention of the bounty hunter named Terliss, and again regret at the sound of Corliss and Mike's names from Aya's lips, but he says nothing at first and makes no move to seize control.
<<Andalites, it would seem,>> says Lanath quietly as Claxter moves off, <<truly never change.>>
Myitt shakily pulls herself to her feet at Ossanlin's all-clear sign.
"I think I need to lie down," she whispers to Daniel and Illim, but she makes no move to do so, snagging his hand and wordlessly walking along the short distance to the increasingly crowded bridge.
Somehow the sight of Chris and Keslin at the controls gives her comfort, and she smiles at his back. She slips her hand out of Illim's and keeps a wide berth around Efaen, coming to a stop next to one of the Andalite tacticians--a male standing near a broad-range z-space scan display.
Loudly, a little abrasively, she clears her throat.
<<If I'm supposed to lead our people, I may as well start now,>> she tells Tara, mentally steeling herself.
"Excuse me, I don't know your name," she tells the sensors officer. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance in determining our trajectory, once we reach the Tyrennian."
Niko pipes up nearby. "I'm going to be helping with that nasty hairball on this end, too, Myitt," he tells her in English from Enorryma's side, before wincing and making a mental note to stick with Galard. The last thing he needed was for their purposes to be called into question because of a faulty translator chip and a penchant for languages-other-than-trade.
-
<<No,>> Aya murmurs. She looks around the bridge, somewhat at a loss. <<Now what? You've worked with Andalites before. Are we just setting ourselves up for disaster here?>>
Efaen blinks her main eyes slowly as she turns to look at Claxter. <I have never been to Earth,> she says. <I have seen a limited number of holograms pertaining to the planet, but I know very little about it, beyond the fact that it is the Yeerk Empire's main target, at the moment.>
She shifts her weight from hoof to hoof uncomfortably. I have absolutely no idea how to converse with other Andalites, she realizes, not sure whether this is a bad thing or not. It certainly makes her feel awkward, but she is determined to try. It won't do to be the receiving end of scorn from the rebels and the Andalites both.
<You...you said before that you knew me from before,> Efaen says hesitantly. <Tell me, why is it you considered me a friend?>
Keslin notes Myitt's arrival, and he shoots her a grim smile before returning his focus to the holoscreens in front of him.
<<Never thought we'd be working on an Andalite ship, eh?>> Chris murmurs, trying for his usual light-heartedness, though his emotions are still roiling with grief.
<<No,>> Keslin responds. <<It is an altogether unexpected experience. Not necessarily one I relish. I would be much more comfortable on my own ships, among my own people. But we must make do.>>
<<We need to find a doctor for Tess, man,>> Chris says after another couple of moments of silence. <<From everything Sam's told us, giving birth to two is dangerous. We need someone who knows what they're doing.>>
Keslin does not respond for a long moment, Chris' mouth set into a thin line as he concentrates on the holoscreen in front of him. He does not allow his host to see his concerns. That they will not be able to find a doctor in time, that the Andalites will not have any effective means of delivering human children. That, even if the delivery is successful, the Andalites will view the resulting children as unnecessary burdens to their mission.
<<I know,>> the Yeerk responds simply, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.
-
<I had little reason not to consider you a friend. We got along, to an extent. You had loyalty to your family and people. Hating all Yeerks doesn't really effect how you deal with Andalites, so even though it was wrong, it didn't interfere with socializing with certain circles. It was only with regards to the rebels that it caused problems.> Claxter wondered if what aya said could be true. If joining the rebels was only so she could destroy them. He wondered if Terenia could not have seen if she had made such a plan. Maybe she just didn't go through Efaen's memories when Efaen let her back in. He didn't like the idea of actually asking Terenia about it, and doubted it would help anyway. What happened happened. Terenia was to blame for enough things without putting more on her.
<Put another way, hatred of Yeerks is pretty standard for people in the military, especially any Andalites unfortunate enough to be infested and forced to serve Yeerks. Ostracizing a fellow Andalite because the worst thing you can say about them is that they hate all Yeerks isn't very reasonable. So I was friendly towards you, and hoped that given enough time under Prince Ossanlin, you would improve in that area.>
<Of course now we hold no loyalty to our former government. We're both rebels now, and I still want us to be friends.>
-
<This way, Niko. The bulk of the ship's computer's activity will be devoted to recalculating our current position and finding our original trajectory again, but we can temporarily repurpose one of the secondary consoles to give us a partial map of the galaxy. As long as we can narrow the projection down to a specific quadrant or arm, it should not cause enough processing demand to slow the others' progress with navigation. Once we have at least one or two of your locations reasonably identified, then we can share that information with the others and determine if it is worth a side trip.>
She paused for a moment, calculating, then addressed Niko privately.
<<Are any of your people here capable of providing medical care to the one of you who is pregnant? I do not think any of our crew is qualified to do much in that regard, and I do not know what kind of staff will still be available at the Tyrennian. If there are no doctors among you, then a side trip may be necessary simply to get help for her. Ossanlin has to prioritize getting us back on track, but I am sure this weighs on his mind, as well.>>
-
Illim walks with Myitt, breaking away from her towards Niko when he spots him. "Heard my name?" he calls with a friendly smile--although the expression doesn't quite reach his guarded eyes. He looks towards Enorryma and gives a nod. "Illim Seven-One-Three and Daniel Feldstein. Reporting for duty." His grin at this point is downright jaunty.
The turbulence onboard has not been kind to the pregnant Tess. Fortunately, she has managed to peel away from the congregated crew and into the farthest back area of the ship before loosing the meager contents of her stomach onto the polished floor. Bending over, her palms rest heavily on her knees, her pink-dyed hair hanging around her face as she stands, open-mouthed, panting. She brings an arm up to wipe the back of her hand along her lips. God... how am I going to do this? she thinks as her stomach roils, not at all helped by the movement of her children. I can't give birth in space... with no doctor around, no Sam, no one to help me. For the first time, the fear really starts to infect her--now that her worries over Keslin and Chris are gone, it's all that's left, the singular worry to preoccupy her.
-
<Tactical Officer Enorryma-Almoress-Ingrell,> she raised her stalk eyes toward Daniel in acknowledgement, her mental voice as dry as uncooked rice. <Niko is attempting to plot possible other Rebel locations; he says you may be able to help. This console accepts key input and gives image and thought-speech output, so you will find it usable if I am needed elsewhere.>
She stepped clear of the console to give him room to pass. <Thank you for your work, gentlemen.>
-
Ossanlin closes out the data view after giving it a quick run-through. Undoubtedly it would be very useful in the right hands. He watches as Keslin's work reprograms the Mirage's Z-Space route. He raises his eyebrows a bit. Normally a recalculation like this would take close to half an hour at best, but the Yeerk's work seems to have accomplished a fair job in just several minutes instead. Of all the Andalites Ossanlin knows, only Enorryma would be able to approach such a level. <...Impressive...>
Ossanlin commands the Mirage into forward movement again and recalculates their time of arrival. Apparently the detour and disturbance has somehow shaved half an hour off of the remaining trip time...that data would be incredibly useful if it could explain this, and how it has happened. The configuration of Z-Space still seems the same despite the disturbance, but the Mirage is simply further along than it should be. Very intriguing indeed.
<After recalculation, it appears that we are now a mere thirty minutes from rendezvousing with the Mirage. Once aboard, we'll carry all of the Yeerk supplies to the Dome. If anyone is interested in looking, I have enabled the holo-table in the common to display a simplified version of the Tyrennian's layout.> Ossanlin suits actions to words as he uses his bridge console to enable the holo-table.
-
Niko nods politely. "I'll do my best to find a reasonable trajectory," he murmurs, his attention already on the screens.
He doesn't favor Enorryma with a glance when she mentions Tess' health condition.
"I don't think anyone here, among the rebellion, can do much more than patch up a wound," Niko says worriedly. He is about to add more when Illim joins them.
"Thank god, Illim," he sighs in English, swiveling the screen to him. "I can get our rendezvous points into the system, it's not too different from our own interface...except I think I can think at it...but I need your help. Yours and Daniel's. I mean, well. Look." He gesticulates at the hovering square of stars, triangulated on one of the three rendezvous points he and Yarin had committed to memory.
While waiting for Esarvit's reply, Myitt slowly steps up to Ossanlin's side, watching Keslin work.
"Pretty good, isn't he?" she intones with a sad smile. She sighs heavily. "Half an hour, that should give us time to plot a course." She looks over and up at her friend. "I do hope our doctor is still alive. Surely fate wouldn't be that cruel, would it?"
<<The Andalites I worked with,>> Lanath says quietly, scanning the room and stepping into control, <<were philologists and academics. These are warriors, and forty years of war with my people have shaped their ideologies.>>
He clears Aya's throat and catches Joanne's eye, frowning.
<<Another one,>> he tells Aya. <<Another turelek. I know her face.>>
-
<<I am Esarvit-Alosian-Ingirat,>> he says stiffly, main eyes locked in on his interlocutor--interlocutors?--and stalk eyes roving as if Z-Space will start acting up again. There's no sign of that, of course, but the atmosphere remains tense. <<And you are...?>>
It's a thought rather than something built up from a more abstract language, of course. In the back of his mind, he's trying to remember whether Galard would distinguish between singular or plural in that case.
-
Myitt nods at Esarvit across the short distance.
"My name is Myitt One-Nine-Five, and this is Tara," she says, gesturing to her human form. "I've been a pilot for many years, and an engineer for many more. Please, let me know if we can help."
-
That's patently unlikely, Esarvit thinks, followed shortly by though on this form we need all the help we can get.
With a formal nod, he says, <<Thank you, I appreciate the offer. At the moment we seem to be making good progress; it sounds as if our arrival is imminent.>> He gestures towards Ossanlin with the flat of his blade.
-
Efaen considers Claxter's words as she watches the activity on the bridge from the doorway. Finally, she nods slowly.
<Perhaps I judged you rashly, Claxter,> she admits. <I apologize. My experiences with your people have not been pleasant, and I presumed that the Andalites here would treat me similarly. Whether they all will or not remains to be seen, but I am glad that you, at least, seem able to give me a chance.>
Her main eyes twitch into the smallest of smiles, but she continues looking away from him.
Keslin glances back at Ossanlin when his voice reverberates through his mind. He isn't about to leave his station, especially not when he is gaining confidence.
"Aya, Lanath," he says, raising his voice a little to be heard. "Please commit that layout to memory. I'll need to go over it later."
Regaining his footing from the turbulance, Dom's eyes fall on Tess, in the corner, looking like she is in pain. His eyebrows furrow and he crosses the room to her. "Tess," he breathes. "Are you alright? Do I need to get Chris?"
-
<Oh good. A shortcut. We only had to almost die to take it.> Claxter said. <The T.O. was right about needing a lot of concentration when in Z-Space.>
<It's quite all right Efaen. I'm happy you opened up to me a bit.> She was still watching the bridge, and he felt perhaps he should not try to do too much at one time. As crowded as the bridge was, he decided to go back to the commons area. Tess looked worse for wear, and there was...something on the floor that she was leaning over. He went into the medical room for something to clean it up, and found something like a mop that would do the job.
<Do you think you need some medicine, Tess? Perhaps we can find something to reduce your stress.> He said when he approached, and started cleaning the mess.
-
Ossanlin glances at Myitt. <<He is impressive. Only Enorryma could rival his understanding of Z-Space. It would've taken me thirty minutes to perform that calculation and correction.>>
He uses his stalk eyes to look back into the common. <<I won't lie to you, Myitt...my understanding of human anatomy is limited. I don't have any human specialist onboard the Tyrennain. She has a state of the art med-bay, but it's not stocked for human usage. We could synthesize human blood and tissue, and modify our own medications to interact properly with human physiology, but it will take time. Andalites often have difficulties birthing...it's very awkward...my understanding is that human birthing is altogether much easier. Is there some reason you feel that her birthing will by atypical?>>
-
Illim's eyes remain on Niko as he speaks, and then he nods, turning his gaze on the interface. "That's it, isn't it?" he says; it is Daniel speaking now, although it is almost impossible to tell--at least when they are being serious. "One of the spots we set up? Is it detecting any activity in the area?" His brow furrows. "Can it even do that?"
Tess lifts her head to give Dom a weak smile. "I--" she begins, and then straightens more fully when she hears Claxter's own concerned though-speech. "I'm fine, really," she sighs. "Just all that turbulence. I couldn't quite hold it together. Here, let me clean this up." She looks down at the mess she has made on the floor, but despite her offer, she doesn't seem to know what to do. Suddenly she laughs, the sound both exhausted and uncertain. "Where are the paper towels?" When she looks up at Dom again, her forehead is wrinkled and she looks to be on the verge of tears despite her smile.
-
<You do not need to help clean. You should attempt to get some rest, assuming we won't be having more turbulence.> Claxter said. He did not know what a paper towel was. Towels were made of cloth, and there probably wasn't any paper on the ship. He found a device that would remove the odor, after he finished getting rid of the spill.
-
Enorryma chuckled internally at Daniel's question. If only this vessel had such far-reaching sensor technology...
<No, this is only a map, not a sensor. If we had developed sensors that could detect activity from this distance, in all likelihood that base would have already been discovered by the Electorate. Are there other locations in that sector, or shall we go now and report this one to Prince Ossanlin? I do not know to what extent he would alter the flight plan, but he may prioritize recovering more of your people.>
-
Myitt nods once at Esarvit, smiling warily.
"It has been a good long while since I have stepped foot aboard the Tyrennian," she murmurs, half to herself.
To Ossanlin she says, "We're far from any human doctors, and she is giving birth to twins." She holds up her hands. "I'm no doctor, but I want to ensure we're prepared for as many, ah, difficulties as we need to be."
Niko frowns, looking over her shoulder at the sound of Tess being sick.
Poor girl, he sighs internally, shaking his head. I would've lost my cool a long time ago.
He clears his throat and looks blankly back at the holoscreens, nodding. "Yeah, Daniel, that looks like the nearest one, at least judging from these coordinates. Thanks, man." He eyes him cautiously. The two men had come quite a long way towards amending their turbulent past together, and this small moment struck him as especially poignant.
Lanath turns his attention toward the screens. "Consider it done," he calls to Keslin, although he himself is still straining to focus on the information, let alone memorize it.
-
Ossanlin nods. <<I see. I'm afraid we'll have to make do for the time being. My lead physician was one of those who did not join our exodus. It will take time to adapt our supplies to help humans. I assume she will not be birthing soon...>> Ossanlin glances at the gravid woman with a stalk-eye. <<Our best option would be the Tyrennian's medbay...it would not be...conducive...to desirable results to birth her in the Mirage.>>
A small, quiet alarm sounds from one of the consoles and Ossanlin commands it to display the reason. He shakes his head and commands the alarm to silence. Nothing major...and nothing he hadn't anticipated. Merely a warning that the life-support system couldn't sustain the atmosphere with so many individuals. The air quality wouldn't change noticeably before they arrived at the Tyrennian, thankfully. It would be hours before CO2 poisoning began. The Andalites would be the first to be affected if it ever came to that.
<<I do hope that someone from your organization who is well-versed on human biology survived.>>
-
Tess watches Claxter work, backing towards Dom with a weary sigh. "Thanks," she mumbles and looks up at Dom before leaning against his side. "This is... really bad timing, you know that?" she says with a laugh, although the skin around her eyes is tight with anxiety. "Why couldn't we have had our home destroyed before I got pregnant, you know?" Then, with the absurdity of it, she looks down at the floor, eyes stinging, still half slumped against her friend and long-time comrade.
Daniel's gaze narrows as he considers Enorryma's question, and he glances at Niko before responding to the Andalite. "I think I'd rather discuss it with Myitt and Ossanlin, if you don't mind." His tone is polite, but he looks guarded. "We appreciate all you have done--risked--for us. But paranoia is largely what kept us alive all of those years. We're creatures of habit; no offense is intended."
-
Keshin crosses his arms, a tired, neutral expression entering Joanne's face. It is the face of someone who kills on an almost weekly to monthly basis, and a countenance Joanne herself occasionally adopts. "I don't care whether you live or die, Terenia." Keshin says in an even voice. "What I do care about is surviving on this ship, and that means we can't remain catatonic. Look..."
Keshin rubs his forehead, thinking of what he could possibly say. "...I don't like you, and you don't like me. But I've seen a lot of people die, and it doesn't mean the world has ended. All of your friends are grieving too. Go to them. Get their---"
Keshin notes one of the rebels staring straight into their eyes. He doesn't recognize her at all. Her gaze has the typical condemnation of those who know their occupation, but it's also rather sharp. "...aid."
<Do we know this chick?>
<....no. But I'd be interested to find out who they are.>
Keshin wanders across the ship's deck toward Aya and eventually comes to stand in front of her. She appears to be running or looking over the ship's map. "I take it you've seen me before," he says.
-
Enorryma's eyes narrowed right back at him, but she kept her tone level.
<I see how it is. Well, Ossanlin is right over there; you need only to get his attention. For now, I shall leave you both to this task. The bridge has become crowded, and if there is a problem, it will be difficult to clear it quickly unless somebody moves to create more space. It may as well be me.>
She walked back into the main area, quietly glad that she had left them at a non-networked console.
She looked around the room for the woman who had arrived pregnant, finally spotting her and walking over slowly, tail kept nonthreateningly low toward the ground.
<Greetings. I am Enorryma, the tactical officer of this crew. I wish to apologize for any rough handling you received earlier during the escape. Please alert me if there is anything I can do to assist you while your health condition is sensitive. I am not sufficiently familiar with human biology that I would know of any special accommodations you might require, and I fear that even at our best, the facilities available to us are substandard for human healthcare. I will, however, help to the best of my ability, for the sake of the survival of your young.>
She took a step back from the woman and waited a beat to see if there would be a reply, hoping that her words would not be received badly. Regardless of her distrust and loathing for Yeerks, Enorryma would not conscience putting infants into the same 'enemies' category. After all, their ear canals would be far too small to house a parasitic slug. This may not be peacetime, but any place with infants ought, by right, to be treated as an armistice zone for their sake. War belongs in deep space, away from homeworlds and innocent children. It is only unfortunate coincidence that brings these children into deep space and war.
-
"I hope so, too, Ossanlin," Myitt sighs, watching the work on the bridge with a weary expression. "We had a few really good people, it pains me to think we've lost them, too." She forces a bright, albeit slightly sour, smile. "So, perhaps we haven't. Yeah, that's what I'm going to stick with, for now."
Niko watches Enorryma stalk off, and he leans in to Illim, eyes wide. "What the hell was that all about?" he hisses, tapping at the holoscreen and trying to appear nonchalant in spite of his fear. "We can't afford to be making enemies of these people...but she needs to respect our ****ing paranoia. Right?" He sighs shortly. "We can give these coordinates to Ossanlin, Myitt trusts him well enough, but I'm not sure I trust anyone else with the information."
Lanath regards Keshin and Joanne impassively, though Aya's lip curls briefly in revulsion. Then he is all smiles.
"I know you," he says, trying to be polite. "You're named Keshin and Joanne, also known as 'Static Shock' for whatever bizarre reason. A turelek of rather high esteem, occasional thorn in the rebellion's side, occasional boon when the money is good on our side. If...your reputation precedes you without error. I am Lanath One-Four-Eight of the Sulp Niar pool." He tilts his head, looking the woman up and down. "An interesting outfit. I hope you do not think it rude of me to ask: Do you fancy yourself a super-villain from a human comic book story?"
Internally, Lanath snickers dryly to himself--and to Aya.
-
Keshin shrugs, a smile crossing over his own face. It is, however, a smile that is completely without warmth. He is not fond of the insult---Joanne initially thought of their war as yet another "game" for her to play. The woman's ability to deceive herself about what was really happening was astounding, and suggestive of the trauma he didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. He had no idea who this Lanath One-Four-Eight was, but she had a serious mouth on her.
"Static Shock is my callsign for those who want to contact me," states Keshin, his tone following along with the carefully crafted smile. "It's ludicrous enough to be remembered by the right people, and our reputation for quality outweighs it. It's also...rather apt, under certain...circumsta nces. We once had a few more tricks up our sleeves than the average turelek, but we have long since become too ill to perform most of them. Ask Myitt if you want to know."
"As for the outfit..." Keshin moves his body this way and that, examining his oddly modified regulation jumpsuit as if just noticing moments ago that he was wearing clothes. "...it's come together over the years. We certainly don't intend to look like a freak, if that's what you're implying. What relation, if I may ask, does a...charming Yeerk and woman like yourself have to the Peace Movement? I don't believe we've ever met."
-
Tess turns her eyes on Enorryma as she approaches, blinking at the verbose words spoken directly to her mind. Still, she smiles, a far warmer one than she has given any of the Andalites yet. "Thank you," she murmurs and offers her right hand, even as she remains by Dom. "I'm Tess. Theresa Franklin's my full name."
"At this point... as much as I don't want to admit it, plenty of rest is probably for the best," Tess says, her smile growing weaker. "So can you confirm--Enorryma, right?--that there really isn't a doctor who can help me where we're going? Our own doctors... they're not here with us. I don't know of anyone among the rebels here who's equipped to help me get through what is most definitely coming. And not long from now, I'm afraid."
Illim sighs, shrugging with a small smirk to Niko. "Well, if it's true what they're saying, that they're as much rebels as we are now, then they'll learn to be paranoid soon enough. It's not until you're in our position that you can really appreciate the fear, I think." He turns his eyes back on the charts. "But yeah, let's take this to Ossanlin and Myitt. See what they have to say." He raises his eyebrows. "Keslin too, maybe?"
-
Enorryma hesitated half a beat at Tess' gesture, then belatedly recognized the human greeting and clasped Tess' hand in her own.
<Well met, Tess. The last time I reviewed the crew manifest for our destination, there was no mention of any medical staff; I was concerned about it before, knowing that any of us might be injured beyond the ability to morph and heal, but now I fear we will be particularly feeling their absence.>
She lowered her voice just for Tess to hear.
<<As we speak, some of your people are isolating possible locations where other of your allies may be hiding. I do not say this to give you false hope, but only to suggest it is possible that we may obtain somebody with some medical knowledge... if any remain at those locations. I know that birth is not often a thing which will allow itself to be delayed, but if you can hold out until we know more on that subject, then we may yet find help for you.>>
Releasing Tess' hand, she stepped away to give her more space, an instinctive action she would have made if this were an Andalite mother needing room to move.
<It is not long until rendezvous with our next vessel. I will stay within earshot in case you want me for anything.> She walked toward the entry to the bridge, waiting quietly within line of sight of Ossanlin, but staying out of the main walkway.
-
Terenia watches Joanne go, then lowers her gaze back to the floor, knees hugged to her chest.
<<I wonder if she knows Terliss,>> Aya cannot help but wonder. Terliss' own reputation as a turelek was fairly high, but that was many years ago, before he and Aya had met. <<Mind clarifying for her that the rebellion is not the Peace Movement?>> Her snort is internal, but no less derisive. <<Stupid pacifists.>>
Dom's eyes narrow suspiciously at the Andalite, but he does not say anything immediately, letting her converse with Tess.
"Why don't you lie down," he suggests to Tess once Enorryma has moved on. "I can stay near you until Chris and Keslin return." He reaches down and squeezes her hand.
Efaen watches Claxter help Tess for a brief moment, then turns her attention back to the bridge. She shies away a little uncomfortably when Enorryma walks close, and turns all four of her eyes away. Her decision to attempt and be civil with the other Andalites on board does not seem to extend beyond Claxter and though her posture is submissive there is a tense edge to it. She watches Norry out of the corner of her eye, rather than with a stalk eye, uneasily.
Keslin sighs a little and pulls his attention away from the console, able to work at a more leisurely pace now that the Z-space shift has ceased. "Myitt, we need to locate the others," he says, a swell of emotion threatening to return as he is faced with thinking about those they lost. "Illim and Daniel are on it, I assume?"
-
Enorryma deliberately gave Efaen as much room as the bridge foyer would allow, not submissive or dismissive, but just doing what she said she'd do, back before the Z-space shifts forced her to man the helm: stay out of each other's way. She kept one stalk-eye toward the main room, one pointed toward the wall near Efaen but not directly at her, and her main eyes facing Ossanlin.
<<Sir, the two passengers at the secondary navigation console appeared to have located at least one other Rebel position which may be en route to the Tyerennian. Do you anticipate that we will be making secondary stops, if that is the case? I ask for the sake of the pregnant human, the one who calls herself Tess. While I am less than eager to be surrounded by more of their people, if there is a possibility of getting her medical care, then I respectfully suggest pursuing it. If things go badly with her, I predict their morale and willingness to cooperate will degrade rapidly.>>
-
Ossanlin glances at Enorryma with a stalk eye. <<The Mirage is not capable of sustaining unlimited life-support for this many people. The O2 degradation alarm has already been triggered. It will be well over an hour before the degradation has any affect, but sustaining flight within the Mirage is too large a risk.>> Ossanlin grimaces internally, but does not allow his distaste of the situation to filter into his tone. <<Morale is meaningless if everyone dies.>> A cold fact. A hard fact. And an efficient, ruthless decision.
One lesson Ossanlin had learned early on in his career...men under his command would die. Though he abhors ruthlessness, it is often the necessary answer to preserve as many lives as possible. In a perfect world, he wouldn't sacrifice a single life...but it isn't a perfect world, and if one life could save twenty or a hundred or a thousand...he would make the decisions that would lead to that sacrifice. It goes against every grain of Ossanlin's compassionate demeanor...but there are times when compassion must be put aside.
<<She and her young stand a better chance of survival in the full med-bay facilities aboard the Tyrennian at any rate. Your suggestion and compassion, however, are both noted and commended.>>
-
Once Claxter finished cleaning, he put the stuff away and went back to the commons area. He knew Tess needed rest, but didn't want to start guiding her into the medbay for fear of a negative response. about the only kind of stranger she was likely to want telling her what to do would be a Human doctor. He took a place near Efaen, not really having much to do. He noticed Terenia hadn't moved at all, though she definitely wasn't asleep. He was almost curious enough to ask why she was so much more broken up than everyone else, but not enough to overcome his distaste for her. It was almost funny that he'd rather spend time chatting with a Yeerk than a particular Human.
-
Ossanlin turns his main attention back to the monitor of Z-Space...they're already nearing the exit-point. <Prepare for True-Space re-entry.> He speaks mainly to the bridge, but it's loud enough that the entire ship can hear.
-
Chapter 2
The Truth of Loss
Out in the deep, unforgiving blackness of non-patrolled space, a ripple formed near a small, hyper-ferrous planetoid…a distortion of space-time. Moments later, the smooth, silver hull of a small, Andalite-built craft slid back into the realm of True-Space, carrying nine humans, eight Andalites, and five Yeerks back to reality. To any sane member of the Galaxy, the ship would seem an enigma…Andalites, Yeerks, and Humans…all together without cells or bars or slavery.
The hyper-ferrous planetoid…really the inner core of a much larger planet that had had its outer layers blasted away eons ago, effectively nullified sensor signatures…even those produced by some of the largest ships in the Galaxy.
As if to punctuate the magnitude of the sensor void, a massive ship, all sleek curves and muted reflections crested the planet’s horizon. The ship made an impressive spectacle, silhouetted and backlit by the small white-dwarf that called this system home. The ship’s clear, crystal-carbon dome showcased a plethora of lush and verdant plant life. Grass, trees, shrubs, bushes…even a pond fed by a small stream that ran the length of the habitat…a veritable oasis in a dark, cold, endless sea.
The rest of the massive ship was intimidating. Though somewhat smaller and lighter than it’s big brother (the traditional Mark II Dome Ship), the Mark III Dreadnought-class Battle-cruiser was still hung with enough Shredder banks to rival the cumulative firepower of its older counterpart. The ship was, without a doubt, designed for battle.
It was toward this formidable paradise, this inviting weapon that the smaller craft flew. The future was uncertain and the odds grim at best…but at least there was still a small measure of hope to cling to.
“Do not mourn our fallen brothers, for they gave their lives so that none of us should suffer in darkness. We shall all see the light of the stars!”
Kelriss-175, Speaker -- Council of Thirteen
-
Claxter came aboard the bridge after the announcement, and saw as the left Z-Space and were once again close the the Tyrennian. He was quite happy with the throught of being back at the larger ship. He moved around anxiously, and the sight of the dome reminded him that he was getting hungry and thirsty. It would be great to really stretch his legs and take a nice run in safety.
The bridge was still rather crowded, and after his initial reaction, he calmed down enough to look a bit less like a child on the day of his first real run.
-
Keslin instinctively grabs the edges of the console as the Mirage slips from Z-space to real space, prepared for the lurch of time and space reconfiguring itself around him. The Andalite ship handles the jump a good deal better than his own Bug Fighter would, which is a relief. His thoughts keep darting back to Tess, and her delicate state. He and Chris both wish for nothing more than to abandon their stations and be by her side, but the moment that was not possible. Keslin was one of the surviving leaders of the Yeerk rebellion, and now more than ever he needed to be present.
<<Holy ****,>> Chris offers up helpfully as the Andalite Dome ship comes looming into view. <<That's a big ship. How much damage do you think those Shredders could do, eh?>>
Keslin does not respond immediately, his host's stomach roiling with his own nerves. The idea of being this close to an Andalite Dome Ship -- of actually boarding it -- goes against his every instinct. While he has never considered the Andalites his direct enemies, at least not since he defected from the Empire many years ago, they have never made him comfortable and a ship full of them works at his already profound paranoia.
<<The Shredder cannons could effectively destroy chunks of planets, if aimed correctly,>> Keslin answers finally. <<Two Dome Ships could easily destroy all of Earth, if that were their intent. Of course, a Yeerk ship could inflict similar damage.>>
<<Lucky they all want Earth for their own, then,>> Chris mutters. Keslin is silent, frowning thoughtfully at the Andalite behemoth.
"Ossanlin," he says, his voice quiet, but still clear, with the tone of someone who is used to commanding others. "How many of your people did you say remained on the Dome Ship?"
For Efaen, unlike the other Andalites aboard, the Dome Ship is not a comforting sliver of the Homeworld. She eyes the ship with an expression of distaste, her thoughts cast back to the last time she had been aboard, when Ossanlin returned her to the Andalite Electorate. She has no doubt that this visit will be just as unpleasant.
She exhales through her nose-slits, mentally preparing herself, and begins to morph back into her human form.
-
Esarvit braces himself and re-emerges into real space, nostrils breathing deeply as if the transfer could have possibly affected the quality of air on the ship. An absurdity, of course. Nothing changes the fact that they are trapped inside a sheet of metal, reliant on borrowed resources to emulate a tiny whiff of the homeworld.
Still, it's a relief to be back in real space, if only because of the gravitational anomalies that had popped up. The sooner they could get onto a more proper vessel, he's convinced, the better.
-
Ossanlin watches the main viewscreen as the blank whiteness of Z-Space shifts back into the white-flecked black of True-Space. He feels a wave of joy wash over him at seeing his ship again. A silly response, but there are so few opportunities for joy anymore that Ossanlin embraces it. After all, the Tyrennian has been his home for nearly ten years, and while it's undergone retrofits with the latest technology, its appearance hasn't changed much in that time. At first, Ossanlin had been fearful of the Tyrennian and what it represented...his first official command. Over time, as his confidence developed, Ossanlin had embraced his position and his emotions had shifted to pride. Now he feels as if he's returning to an old friend.
He shifts his main eyes from the view of the Tyrennian to rest upon Keslin again. He'd learned that humans often found it discomfiting if he did not look at them with his main eyes while he talked to them. <Standard crew complement on a Mark III Dreadnought Dome is 200. 250 if carrying a full complement of fighters, with 36 dedicated fighter pilots and a number of secondary crew capable of deploying in fighters as well. My number of crew has been reduced to 64. The Tyrennian needs at least 100 able bodies to maintain independant, continuous operation. With my current complement, critical upkeep procedures will fall by the wayside...> He blinks. For a moment, he'd forgotten who he'd been talking to. Ossanlin hadn't meant to share the fact that he needs the Rebels in order to keep the Tyrennian afloat...but that fact would've been broached sooner or later.
The communicator blips and Ossanlin commands the channel to open, shifting his main eyes to the main viewer. <My Prince! It's a relief to see you...> The male Andalite on the other end takes in the other occupants of the bridge. <I see your...objectives.. .have been adequately fulfilled.>
<It's good to see you too, Esran. We're all present and accounted for, heavy nine humans and five Yeerks. We'll need some help carrying the supplies. Have the empty Warriors' quarters been prepared?>
The other Andalite is silent for a moment before responding. <Yes, sir, but would not the aristh quarters be more suitable? They're only Yee...>
<We've been through this, Esran...> Ossanlin cuts the male off mid-sentence. <...there are empty Warriors' quarters. They will be used first. Some of these individuals are pair-bonded, so we may use some of the vacant officers' quarters as well.>
<Sir...I will do as you command, but I must protest the usage of the Officers' Quarters...they have...>
<Esran, this isn't the time or the place.> Ossanlin cuts in again. <Dispatch a few of the younger Warriors to Docking Bay one to help offload the supplies. We'll discuss permanent housing assignments later. We should be onboard within five minutes.>
Esran performs a tail-salute and nods. <Yes, sir.> The comm channel closes and Ossanlin takes over the helm himself, piloting the Mirage toward the curved, slightly-protruding underbelly of the Tyrennian.
-
Enorryma listened to the exchange between Esran and Ossanlin, and while she shared Esran's feelings about the matter, she was less than pleased bout his decision to openly argue with his Prince.
I need to have a talk with that boy.
The Tyrennian was a pleasant sight, and she worked to keep her excitement to a minimum, when the lush dome environment came into view. Her legs ached to run without containment, and a sudden restless energy surged through her, making this smaller vessel almost claustrophobic in its narrower proportions. The stims must not have completely finished wearing off, or perhaps she had just gone too long without a good free-run, one without enemies in pursuit or targets to chase.
-
Tess looks up to Dom and nods slowly as she moves towards her hovering cot and sits down on it. Her hand is still firmly gripping his to keep herself steady. "It's weird, you know?" she sighs as she looks down at herself. "Not even recognizing your body. I've never been so weak I couldn't stand up for more than a few minutes, or so tender stomached I couldn't handle a little turbulence."
Tess carefully lowers herself into a horizontal position, her dark eyes seeking Dom's face once she's settled. "But that's the least of anyone's worries here. Even mine. Do... do you think we'll find any of the others?" she asks, her voice suddenly sounding small as she adds internally, And some you'll never have a chance to see again. Poor James... poor James..
Giving Niko another tight-lipped smile, he makes his way towards the part of the bridge where his wife and Ossanlin were standing. Managing to catch the last few moments of the War Prince's conversation with another Andalite--presumably one aboard the ship that was their destination--he waited quietly, arms folded across his chest, concern in his eyes. It was a look he probably would not be able to shake for a while.
Once the communication with the Mirage is cut, Serid takes a few steps towards Esran. He blinks his bright main eyes several times at the human face he had thought he had seen stepping into the visual feed at the last moment. I knew it was possible he was there, but--do not dare to hope now. It could have been anyone, his thoughts all come in a jumble.
His eyes do a poor job of hiding the cautious eagerness tumbling about in his mind, but when he speaks to Esran, his tone is ever formal. <Sir, shall I prepare to greet our comrades and the new faces that accompany them?> The implication is clear: it is evident, from the need for the presence of a security squad leader, that these rebels are not entirely trusted.
-
Esran nods vacantly to Serid...<Yes, of course.> He begins to execute Ossanlin's orders, no longer paying Serid any mind.
~
Ossanlin pilots the Mirage gracefully around to the back of the Tyrennian, the full size of the ship exceedingly obvious at such close range. He loops the reflective craft around behind the Tyrennian where the upper Starboard irregular hangar doors have opened. He slows down as the craft slides past the atmospheric shielding guarding the large hangar bay to touch down softly inside. The large hangar doors slide shut behind the Mirage.
Ossanlin breathes a semi-contented sigh at being reunited with his ship once again. <We've landed.> He announces to the ship at large as he powers the Mirage down and commands the access ramp to open. <If all of the Yeerks and Humans would please stay together once you've exited the craft...I'll show you all to your temporary quarters. I'm afraid our amenities were not designed specifically for humans...but we should be able to make do.> He pauses. <My officers are dismissed. You may all do as you wish for the next hour.>
Ossanlin makes his way to the exit ramp and descends onto the bright metal flooring of the small upper hangar bay. To the sides are the off-white walls of the smaller divided hangar, and behind is the sealed hangar bay door...but in front, the small hangar opens up into a large room, bright in the daylight-quality lighting. The large room is nearly 200 yards long with a wide, open concourse down the middle...all off-white and chromed metal. The ceiling of the main hangar is a good 60 feet from the room's floor, and several force-cranes hang from the ceiling, stowed in their retracted positions until needed. The outer walls of the main hangar are lined with a honeycomb-like structure...two rows, one stacked atop the other, of eighteen 20 x 20 x 15 foot cells on each outer wall, the top rows recessed out slightly from the bottom ones. Each starboard cell contains a single Tail Fighter craft...the port cells are empty.
Ossanlin spies three young(ish) Andaites, one his Lead Active-Security Officer, standing at the top of the ramp leading down into the main Hangar Bay. <Serid.> He smiles and nods. <Glad to see you here.> He pauses as he walks up to the three young males. <Stay with me.> He nods again at Serid before glancing at the other two. <You two, there are supplies stowed aboard the Mirage. I need them transported to the Dome. It'd probably be best to use a hover-lift.> He stands next to Serid and turns back to watch his temporary charges debark, waiting for them all to gather.
-
Claxter was glad to be back, and ready to stretch his legs. <Efaen, if you would like to see me after Prince Ossanlin finds you a room, I'll be in the dome.> He said as he passed her. He made his way down the ramp, and trotted towards the dome. The grass tasted great to his hooves as he ran. It was bittersweet, knowing this was likely the only semblance of his homeworld left now.
-
Ennoryma stayed a few paces behind Ossanlin as they disembarked, addressing Esran privately and curtly as she passed him, not favouring him even with her stalk eyes. <<If I hear you openly argue with our Prince again, especially in front of passengers, you and I are going to have a problem.>>
She swept past him, her attention moving constantly between Ossanlin and the humans as they left the transport. One of her stalk eyes kept drifting up toward the Tail Fighters in their docking cells. They were familiar, gorgeous, and wickedly well-crafted. She forced her attention back to the moving group of humans, resolving to stay with them as Ossanlin led them around the ship: they would have no stragglers wandering into restricted areas, if there was anything she could say about it. Furthermore, she wanted to know which of the officers' quarters were liable to be repurposed for human housing. She wasn't concerned out of partiality to her own room, and she'd surrender it easily if it kept a few of the humans in a location where they could be easily monitored and found if needed; she was much more concerned with knowing the exact placement of each human they had, for lack of a better word, adopted into the roster. She would keep a careful mental inventory on each of them.
-
Keslin pulls away from the console as the ship lands, watching through the viewscreens until the Mirage is settled.
<<Somehow I can't help but feel as though I am walking straight into the jaws of my enemy,>> Keslin murmurs, swallowing back his fear. His eyes sweep the room, taking note of his charges, and he clears his throat.
"Lanath," he says loudly. "Make sure all of the pirates on board make it off safely. You take the lead with Aya, I'm going to see to Tess." He glances at Myitt beside him. "I trust you'll take care of everyone else? We need to stick together now, eh?"
He gives her a small, sad smile, one ever-trembling hand coming up to squeeze her shoulder. He drops it quickly, moving towards the back of the ship, where he last saw Tess.
"We will find them," Dom whispers, his voice catching. He clears his throat, blinking back sudden tears. "We must."
As the ship comes to a halt, Dom looks up. "I think we have arrived," he says quietly to Tess. "Do you need help standing?"
Efaen does not respond to Claxter as she finishes her morph to human. Her eyes follow him as he moves away, though, expression unreadable. Ossanlin was right that he is kind enough, she thinks to herself. But that does not make him a friend. She glances behind her, but no one seems particularly eager to speak to her. Biting her lip she moves forward towards the front hatchway, exiting the ship before any of the other rebels and making her way onto the Tyrennian. Not like I have a leader to wait on, she reminds herself, sighing a little as she looks around the docking bay. Her gaze falls on Ossanlin and his crew last, her lips setting into a thin line.
Terenia does not move from her spot on the floor. She does not even acknowledge their arrival, nor Ossanlin's request for them to disembark. She continues staring, unseeing, at her knees.
-
Niko nods at Illim. "Yes, we should take the information to Keslin." He turns to regard the sandy-haired Canadian man. "It appears Myitt is discussing us." He raises his eyebrows as he meets Keslin's gaze.
Lanath clears his throat. "We, ah, do not come from the Peace Movement, exactly," he says, a smile playing on Aya's face. "We are the soldiers of the Yeerk rebellion, of course. I have been with them for three short years, whereas Aya has been an asset to the organization for quite a bit longer."
"Things look promising, yes," Myitt replies to Keslin, smiling a small smile at Illim and Niko, spying their star charts beyond. Niko gives Myitt a thumbs up, and she feels a brief swell of affection for the man.
<<You've come a long way from breaking his fingers,>> Tara remarks quietly.
<<Don't spoil the moment,>> Myitt whispers.
She shifts her weight as the Mirage jumps back into real space, looking around to ensure those of her friends within her view haven't been tousseled too badly.
Her comrades.
Her charges.
After a moment's recovery, she stares out the viewports, taken aback by the heady view as much as the heavy thoughts.
<<It has been a long time,>> she says quietly, eyeing the Tyrennian for a heartbeat longer before wrenching her gaze back to the others.
At the sight and sound of the communications link, Myitt's hands clench into fists at her sides. Not even Illim's arrival can loosen the tension in her shoulders, and she glances sidelong at him again.
Only Keslin drags her out of her troubled reverie, and she nearly jumps at his hand on her shoulder.
"I'll take care of them," she tells him in a ragged voice, almost as desperate as her internal one.
She turns, full circle, and addresses her comrades--and some, perhaps, less than comrades-- in a less than self-assured tone.
"I guess this is our stop," Myitt tells them as loudly as she can. "You'll do well to follow Ossanlin's orders, and I know you'll all remember your courtesy."
Slumping, she trudges past Terenia and pauses.
"Terenia," she murmurs, watching the young woman. "Come on. We can't lose our composure, not here." Sucking in a breath, she exhales, "We'll find them."
-
Tess gives a ragged sigh in response to Dom's question, and she reaches for his hand, her gaze pulled away by the approaching Keslin. "Thanks, Dom," she murmurs with a tight-lipped smile before she uses leverage from the tall, Croatian man to get to her feet.
Her dark eyebrows raise, even as her hands go to support her heavy stomach. "Everything okay? We're there?" she asks, her voice breathy from the effort the day has required of her. "Wherever there is?"
Tess's stomach is churning, not only with nausea and discomfort, but also with nervousness.
Illim stops beside Myitt, his eyes focused on Terenia. Then he bends, offering his hands to help her up, a small, sad smile on his lips. "Don't pretend you can ignore me, my friend," he murmurs.
Serid gives Ossanlin a polite nod. <I am gratified to see you have made it back safely, sir,> he says, standing at attention as he watches the humans begin to trickle into sight, his curiosity dampened by his heightened awareness of his role in maintaining the ship's security. One eye stalk swivels towards the War-Prince, and when he speaks again, it is privately. <<Are there any of our new charges you would have me keep a particular eye on?>>
-
Ossanlin nods. <<Indeed there are, Command Warrior. The humans known as Joanne and Terenia should be kept under watch as well as the Yeerk Keshin...he's Joanne's controller. And...our old friend Efaen...but choose someone who's discreet with Efaen. I don't want her to feel uncomfortable...I still think there's hope of gaining her trust, it won't do to blatantly show our own mistrust of her.>>
He continues to wait, standing stoic next to Serid, the general feeling of command emanating from him as it seems to do so naturally anymore. Ossanlin can quite easily remember when that had not been so.
-
Keslin nods as he approaches, wrapping one arm over Tess' shoulders and holding her close.
"Thank you, Dom," he says.
"Of course," Dom responds, his eyes lingering on Tess for a few concerned moments before turning to his leader. "Is there anything you need me to do?"
Keslin sighs, running his free hand through his hair. "Help Lanath and Aya ensure that everyone makes it out okay. Keep everyone together. See if Myitt needs help." He laughs hoarsely. "I'm going to need you to do a lot of things in the near future, I'm afraid."
Dom smiles faintly, reaching up and briefly squeezing Chris' arm. "It is alright, my friend. We will get through this." He gives Tess a parting smile, then turns to follow Keslin's instructions.
Keslin turns to Tess. "We'll be safe here," he promises, though the words sound hollow. "We're going to try and find Sam and Issid and the other medical staff, but we...we'll be okay." His hand tightens a little on her shoulder, as though afraid she may disappear.
Efaen comes to a halt some distance away from the Andalite crew, sizing them up warily. She doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, so she just stands and waits, arms crossed tightly across her chest as though there is a chill in the air.
Terenia's gaze slowly regains focus, and she looks up at Myitt and Illim. She says nothing, wordlessly taking Illim's hand and letting him hoist her to her feet. Once standing, she doesn't move, eyes falling back to the ground, limp, tangled blonde hair half-concealing her face.
-
As Ossanlin continues to wait, the two Warriors Serid had brought with him for escort trot up the ramp, doing their best to ignore the humans and Yeerks. They begin gathering the host and Yeerk supplies, carrying them down the ramp to pile near the Mirage one or two packages at a time, busying themselves with the work.
Ossanlin allows himself to frown as he sees Esran standing near the Mirage...he shouldn't have come down. He should've stayed on the Bridge until Ossanlin relieved him of command. Norry gives him a frosty glance as she walks by...probably for the breach of protocol. Who had he left in charge of the ship? Ossanlin makes a mental note that Esran would require a conversation, and is not, in fact, reliable enough to leave in command.
~
Esran stiffens at Enorryma's rebuke, but keeps his eyes facing forward, not making eye contact with her. <<Yes, Prince Commander.>>
He glances at Ossanlin with his stalk-eyes before immediately lowering his eyes to the deck, apparently catching Ossanlin's faint frown.
-
<<Very well, sir.>> Serid's response is calm, displaying none of his inner surprise at hearing Efaen's name. It is remarkable she has survived this long, he thinks. He always supposed that, after all she had gone through, the pendulum effect of her beliefs and her ostracism from nearly everyone, that she would not have made it through so many years of the war.
He continues scanning the humans and Andalites before him, ready to move into action at a moment's notice, not quite holding the same graceful ease of posture as many of his comrades. It is almost as if he is uncomfortable in his own body.
Illim squeezes Terenia's hand gently once she's on her feet, and then he puts it on her back. "Come on. We're not going to find Mike staying here," he murmurs, keeping his voice low. "Niko's identified at least one pre-set rendezvous point. Maybe we can get in touch with the rest of the rebellion."
Tess puts her arms around Chris in a brief, weary hug, before starting after the rest of their recently rescued friends. "That's good," she says in response, "but I'm prepared to give birth on my own. I always figured I'd have to in that cell, if I wasn't... if something worse hadn't happened by then." She looks up at him with a small smile. "At least now I have you to help me. And that is so much better." Tess trembles a little, fighting the rise of emotion her own words evoke.
-
Terenia doesn't respond to Illim, her gaze still on the floor. She moves when he does, though, following his direction off of the ship. When they exit the Mirage she glances up briefly, taking a quick look around before looking down again. A shiver runs through her and she folds her arms across her chest, hugging herself.
The thought of actually helping in the physical birthing process makes Chris turn a little green, but Keslin quickly covers the terror he feels. "I'm here," he says reassuringly, helping Tess along. "No matter what."
<<You don't think we're going to have to--?>> Chris asks anxiously.
<<First order of business: find Sam,>> Keslin responds firmly, leading Tess off of the ship. He is one of the last to exit, and he looks around with the same cautious awe as many of his companions. His gaze finds Ossanlin quickly, though, and he takes in the other Andalites warily.
-
Lanath cranes his neck to ensure that Tess, Chris and Dom are following along with the crowd that spills out of the Mirage's hatchway.
He slows to match their speed, making their way to the crowd milling inside the hangar.
"Aya and I are glad you're stable, Tess," he says quietly, smiling reassuringly.
Niko trudges out into the docking bay, his arms loaded up with packages of human provisions and Kandrona.
He follows the Andalite attendants just far enough so that he can deposit the items on a hovering cart. Then he sighs, brushing his hands, and turns back to the crowd.
Myitt nods at Chris and Keslin. "Yeah, I've got things under control," she exhales. "I think."
She falls into line with Terenia and Illim, boots clanking, steel toes on metal as she marches down the ramp to join her comrades.
-
Ossanlin nods as the remaining rebels exit and directs another private thought to Serid. <<Joanne and Keshin inhabit that female body. Terenia is that female over there.>> He nods slightly again in the proper direction, then continues. <<And Efaen apparently prefers being a morphed human rather than an Andalite...that's her.>> He indicates Efaen's body to Serid.
<Good, if you'll all follow me, I'll give you a brief walkthrough. These are the primary hangar bays.> Ossanlin gestures. <I won't go into heavy detail, but both have quick-launch capabilities.> Ossanlin tuns to follow the railed walkway to the starboard side of the upper level of quick-launch hangars. <When the atmospheric doors are open, energy shields protect the atmosphere in the hangar and inside each individual ship cell.>
He turns to the right and walks up a large ramp-well and into a large corridor tha runs the length of the ship. <The engineering section of the ship is back here...including the A2 Coliders, engine nacelles, power-relays, and engineering labs. If we moved to mid-ship, we'd find the central computer system, batteries, astrometrics, the med-bay, and the environmental systems for both the dome and enclosed spaces. At the front, we'd find the sensors array, primary Shredder coils, and, of course, the bridge.> He continues up the spiraling ramp past eight floors to a wide central hallway that runs along the middle of the ship. <This is the main concourse. It connects to the dome both fore and aft, and provides the primary entrance to the bridge.>
He walks toward the front of the ship, the hallway just as brightly lit, white, and gleaming as the hangar bay had been, still keeping his pace slow enough for the humans to keep up. He stops at the transparent, sealed doors leading into the dome, waiting for the humans to gather again.
-
Claxter had been enjoying his run across the tome, as he got rid of the tension of what happened in the ship. As he came around to the door, he noticed Ossanlin coming over with the guests. He decided to stop near them, and see how they liked the ship so far. Efaen was back to her Human form again, which she was apparently more comfotable in. Though if she felt vulnerable here, her natural form would actually have been more suitable for protection. That felt a bit ironic to him.
<<So, Serid, how have you been? I know I didn't really say anything earlier, but I felt like i really needed to stretch my legs a bit.>> He said privately, so he wouldn't interrupt Ossanlin talking to the controllers.
-
Serid follows Ossanlin, surveying the new passengers before he is distracted by Claxter's greeting. <<It is good to see you have safely returned,>> he replies to his comrade, nodding. <<How was-->>
Suddenly, he cuts off, all four of his eyes fixing on the shortest man among the humans. <<Illim,>> he blurts.
The brown-haired man looks up and away from Terenia, trying to discern which Andalite has called out to him.
<<It is me. Serid. I will speak with you once the War-Prince is done,>> he continues.
Illim's eyebrows raise in evident surprise, and he leans over to whisper to Myitt, "Serid's here."
Tess leans against Chris as they walk off the ship and follow the others, paying half attention to Ossanlin's tour. She gives Aya a worried smile and squeezes Chris's arm. "Thanks. I... I'm not sure I can walk this long, though," she murmurs, her voice quiet. "How stupid is that, right?" she pants. "Can't even stand up for longer than a few minutes." Her legs are jittering with every step.
-
Claxter noticed Serid suddenly noticing Daniel in the middle of a question. <<Yeah, Illim and his host were a couple of the fortunate ones to be saved. Hopefully we can all get along with each other, though some individuals may cause some problems. I don't suppose you'd help be keep Terenia and Efaen apart? Terenia has been threatening to kill her, and is obviously not in her right mind. Not that her right mind is very civil.>>
-
Serid spares one stalk eye to look over at Claxter, the rest still trained on Illim and Daniel. <<Yes. The safety of everyone here is my primary job,>> he replies. <<War-Prince Ossanlin has been indicating the potential problems since he arrived, but I certainly welcome your insight as well.>>
He turns his second eye stalk to him. <<Do you know Efaen well?>>
-
<<I knew Efaen at the bar. She was quite the typical Andalite, for better or worse. Her memory was taken after she attacked the rebels, soon after they took her off surveillance from what I hear. She'd rather be among them, but from what I've seen, they don't seem eager to be around her. I think I'm starting to gain a little of her trust, but it will take time. She's different, but still kind of the same.>>
<<Aside from Terenia, and possibly Keshin, I don't think we have to much worry about the others. Keslin and Niko have been helpful. Tess isn't going to be causing problems, to be sure.>> He said, looking at each person with a stalk eye to indicate which one he was talking about. <<I'd like to think Keshin is smart enough not to try anything with us now. No one has the money it would take to make anything worth it fir the bounty hunter. Aya is actually a friendly Human towards Andalites, and Lanath too perhaps.>>
-
Enorryma noticed Tess faltering and approached the group more closely, her tail kept low.
<Tess, if you are able and willing to sit on my back, I can carry you wherever you need to go for now.>
She turned her stalk eyes toward Chris, questioning: would he allow Norry to help the woman, and would Tess accept the help offered? Norry would tolerate the minor indignity of being ridden, over the dishonour of letting an infirm person suffer who could be helped.
-
Efaen keeps to the edges of the group on the tour, her eyes downcast. She has been on this ship before, of course, and does not particularly need the introduction, but she is hesitant to stray. They'll probably think I'm trying to destroy everyone or something, she thinks bitterly. She casts a hopeful smile in Myitt's direction, trying to gauge the suspicious Yeerk's temperment. She was the reason Efaen had placed any stock in the rebels protecting her, after all.
Dom finds himself striding alongside Niko, his long legs pulling him ahead of Tess and Chris. "I must say," he murmurs, trying to sound upbeat despite the fact that his expression is still overwhelmed with the grief of loss, "they certainly have a good sense of style. Very modern. I approve."
Chris' eyebrows raise when Enorryma approaches them, and Keslin glances at Tess to see how comfortable she is with the idea. "She needs rest," he says quietly, his words a little stiff. The idea of speaking with an Andalite still makes him wary. "Will you be able to support her?" he asks hesitantly. "I do not want her to be accidentally injured, but this is too strenuous, especially after so long in a cell." He gives Tess an apologetic little smile, not wanting to call the shots for her, but also wanting to ensure her safety.
Terenia does not look up on the tour. She also does not seem particularly prone to any violent outbursts, keeping her arms folded tightly around herself and her eyes on her toes. She barely responds to Illim or Myitt, except to move in the direction they direct her. Periodically she sniffles, fresh tears falling down her cheeks.
-
Niko whistles appreciatively as they walk along, nodding eagerly when Ossanlin explains the ship's engineering capabilities.
"What I wouldn't do to pick their brains," he sighs, thinking of the Andalite engineers and how far above his head they must be. He cranes his neck to watch the line of his comrades behind and beside him. He smiles at Dom. "It's so...clean."
Lanath gently takes Tess' arm, trying his best to support her with Aya's thin frame. "It isn't silly at all," he grunts quietly, smiling. "You do need to rest, and I daresay we'll find a medical professional soon enough who can help you more than I can."
He listens attentively as Keslin speaks with Enorryma.
<<Though I am not sure how comfortable I am with Tess being left with an Andalite doctor, inexperienced with human birth,>> Lanath murmurs to Aya. <<The sooner we find someone who can help us--Sam and Issid and Farrah, or not--the better.>>
Uncomfortably, Myitt brushes a hand along Terenia's back, wordlessly trying to offer comfort.
She sighs and looks up only at Serid's name, blinking at Illim, then around at the other Andalites. "Where?" she hisses, only catching Efaen's eye, which makes Myitt herself scowl. "They all look the same to me, is that terrible or what?"
-
Ossanlin nods as everyone gathers near the doors into the Dome. He notes Enorryma who appears to be addressing Tess, though he cannot hear her speech. It would make sense, his TO more willing to associate with the free human first...but most Andalites wouldn't deign to go even that far. He smiles internally...she would probably be embarrassed or upset if he brought it up, so he'd merely observe quietly...but she appears to be making greater gains than he'd have thought possible at such and early juncture. Perhaps she would eventually associate with them without needing to feel that Ossanlin requires it of her. Of course, he remembers the agreement...he would hold to his word until she released him of it. Word and honor had much to do with one another.
<We are about to enter the dome. It is currently the ship's day-cycle, so the holograms will be active...this means you will not see the stars, but the blushing red of our Homeworld's sky. At night, the holograms in the upper dome, save those that represent the moons, are deactivated so that the stars are visible. Once we move past the entry area, the doors will be hidden as well...the holograms near the edges of the dome are distance-projected, so that they become increasingly translucent as you near the edge...please do not be alarmed.> Ossanlin presses a panel and the transparent doors slide open, a small puff of warm air gusts out into the hall as if it's been warmed by the sun. He trots through, far enough that the distance-projection hides the edge of the dome completely. He allows himself a small smile...around him the landscape appears as rolling plainsland for miles, dotted by thickets of trees and bushes, the nearest ones real, the farther ones mere projections of the holographic wall. A strong breeze blows across his fur before quieting down again to a soft whisper of wind. The illusion even includes a gentle heat emanating from the direction of the illusory sun.
<The Dome of our ship is a true ecosystem. There are cycles of actual rainfall, errant currents of air. The temperature and pressure of the air change depending upon weather and circadian cycles. The officers' quarters also have entries directly linked to the dome. Myitt, I assume that you and Illim will wish to share a room.> He glances at Keslin and Tess. <And you two will be sharing a room?> Ossanlin nods before either of them even answer. <There are no other pair-bonds and the rest of you would prefer personal rooms, correct?>
-
Tentatively, Efaen steps out onto the grass of the Dome. The open space is reassuring, but she doesn't find any particular joy in being there. She still feels like an outsider, hovering on the edges of two different peoples. The openness tugs at her, though, and she begins to wander away from the group a little, feeling the grass between her bare toes.
"And it comes with a park," Dom continues, a smile flickering across his expression. "Now just point me to the bar and I will be content." He steps into the Dome, admiration on his face. "Can you imagine what sort of a party you could throw in here?" he asks, shaking his head. "Fabulous."
<<Even Miles would be something,>> Aya says to Lanath, her concern for Tess easy to read. Part of her thoughts remain firmly on the turelek, though. The presence of the bounty hunter clearly has put her on edge, dredging up painful memories.
Terenia comes to an abrupt halt at the edge of the Dome, despite Myitt's hand on her back. Raising her gaze to the lush imitation of the Andalite Homeworld her expression crumples. With the Homeworld in front of her and the Andalite ship behind, it all seems too much for the young woman. Ossanlin's commentary about pair-bonds only worsens the situation and she begins to tremble, her knees nearly giving out as she covers her mouth, unable to prevent a sob from escaping between her fingers.
-
Claxter hears Dom complimenting the ship. <I'm glad you like it. I don't think we have a bar, at least not the kind you probably mean.> <<There are some edible product used for medical reasons that could probably be mixed to make something close to a drink, but I'm not sure if the Princes would encourage that kind of thing.>>
He walks over to Efaen. <Try to relax. I promise nothing bad will happen to you here. Would it make you feel better if I morphed too?>
-
Enorryma gave Chris the most 'human' nod she knew how to give. <I have carried things much heavier than a human; Andalite legs look slender, but we are very strong for hoofed quadrupeds. If she is willing and you will assist her getting seated, I will not allow her to fall or be harmed.> She crouched a bit so that her back would be a bit lower than a human center of gravity.
-
Illim leans over to Myitt to murmur quietly enough he doesn't distract the others from the tour, "Not sure, honestly. I never knew him as anything but a nothlit." At Terenia's emotional outburst, he licks his lips and whispers to Myitt, leaning away from Terenia to do so, "I'm gonna request Terenia gets a room close to ours. She's gonna need us." He sighs, his hand coming up to join Myitt's on Terenia's back.
Serid finally pulls his distracted gaze from Illim and tracks the individuals as Claxter mentions them. <<I have my directives from the War-Prince as well,>> he says. <<But I thank you for your input, Claxter.>> He gives him a small nod.
Tess nods to Aya and Lanath with a grateful smile, but when Enorryma offers her back to carry her, she blinks in surprise, her dark eyes widening. "I... I'll be okay," she tells her partner, squeezing his hand. We don't want to be rude, she adds to herself, and I don't think I can keep standing anyway.
Then she nods to the Andalite. "I appreciate it. Sorry if I'm uncomfortably heavy at this point, but... I think I'll take you up on it," she huffs a smile. She lets go of Chris's hand and tentatively reaches for Enorryma, placing a hand on her flank. "If you're sure, that is."
-
<I am sure. If you keep both your legs on the same side of my back, as you would sit in a chair, you can lean sideways against me and hold on that way with an arm around my torso. I will also hold you in place with the main length of my tail; the blade will not be near you at all, and you will be unable to slip off my back accidentally. It, too, will provide you a place to grab for stability. Just let me know when you are in position as comfortably as possible, and then I will raise up and continue walking with you.>
-
Ossanlin's eyes widen as Tess begins to climb onto Enorryma's back. If he'd had a mouth, his chin would've been resting solidly on the grass. He manages to wrest control of his face after the momentary lapse and merely blinks a couple of times before moving on with his commentary.
<Yes...well the Warriors' quarters, one deck down from the dome, would not be large enough to be shared by more than one individual. We currently lack certain officers. So those of you who wish to share will be temporarily living in some of the vacant officer quarters. For those interested in knowing, I will discuss which officers I currently lack, but for now...Myitt and Illim, you should find the Flight Commander's quarters suitable. And Keslin and Tess, I think the First Medical Officer's quarters would work for you. Each unit contains only a single sleep module, but I assume that will not be an issue. Those of you who are not sharing quarters will be housed one deck below, in a few of the vacant Warriors' quarters.>
-
Keshin and Joanne follow Ossanlin close behind, trying not to bring too much attention to themselves when they enter the Tyrennian. It's clear that they have to make some allies aboard the ship, but for the longest time they have been unsure how to go about it. Nearly everyone here either hates them or is trying to pull themselves together. Their conversation with Lanath was...interesting, but not very revealing about whether the sarcastic Yeerk would be any help.
Keshin breathes in the warm air of the dome with pleasure, looking around the rich visual environment mimicking the Andalite home world with delight. "I've never seen this before." He taps his foot on the grass and turns his head in various directions, glancing in curiosity at the strangely colored trees. Joanne seems to internally be thrilled at being in a wide open space, but it's suddenly getting hard to breathe. Keshin coughs loudly, clutching Joanne's aching chest. He's not sure whether it's the Dome air, or merely the latest manifestation of their usual problem. He squirms in the group awkwardly, making a few more coughs and stumbling before attempting to move forward. Not good.
"Uhm...Ossanlin..." he states a bit breathlessly. "...we're going to need certain...things... to survive for long...or we're going to get sick." Keshin appears to get control of the coughing, maintaining his ground and brushing Joanne's jumpsuit off. "We never got the chance, however...to really thank you for saving us from the prison. We'd be willing to take up any job on the ship you could trust us with."
-
Ossanlin glances at Keshin. He shows no discomfort outwardly, but remains supremely wary inside. Keshin couldn't hope to gain anything by attacking anyone on the ship...not now, not without an escape route. The most that should be feared of the bounty hunter is waking up one day minus a fighter or small craft.
<I have no idea where your loyalties lie, Keshin. I have no way of knowing even if your gratitude is sincere. I suppose everyone can change...but I clearly remember a time when you would've ended my life, or that of anyone else, for the right price, no matter the buyer. And I have no reason to believe that that or any other part of you has changed. Trust is earned, not gifted.> He glances up at the rest of the gathered rebels. <That goes for everyone. The only one of you that I trust is Myitt. I'm sorry if that sounds brash, but it's the truth, and I'll not lie nor play games with you. Myitt can tell you how she earned my trust if she wishes...that particular situation will never happen again, but if one manages to earn my trust, she can also vouch for my loyalty. It was that very loyalty that took me on this mission to remove you from that awful facility. To forsake my own home and its corrupt government. To me, you've all shown yourselves to be allies of the People. To me, the People are not just Andalites, but every single person that resists what the Empire would do...the enslavement and subjugation of all the free species of the Galaxy. But I will not trust until I know your motives to be Just. I am truly sorry that your only current option is to trust me for the greater part, but soon I hope to reunite you with the rest of your survivors, and then I hope that other options will be open to you.>
<I don't expect true trust any more than I truly trust you. I will endeavor to earn your trust as I hope you will all endeavor to earn mine. Trust cannot be forced, and I would never attempt to do so. For now, you will all have quarter, food, water, and other needful things. Serid here is my First Active Security Officer. He's in charge of maintaining ship security. He and his squads will be busy over the next few days as we get you settled in. He will be placing seasoned representatives near your quarters in case you should have any questions or unforeseen needs.>
The two Andalites that had been unloading the supplies from the Mirage phase slowly through the projected hologram and trot up to Ossanlin. <Sir, where would you like these...supplies... offloaded?>
Ossanlin nods. <Please put them in the Flight Commander's Quarters, Akseth.>
The two tail-salute and start pushing the hover-lift back and to the left. Ossanlin glances at Myitt. <I'll ask you to dole out the needed supplies if you would, Myitt. You're much more familiar with the dietary requirements of both Yeerks and Humans.>
He directs his gaze to the group at large. <Those of you who wish to join me on the bridge may do so. You may also relax here in the dome, or retire to your assigned quarters. Serid can direct any of those of you assigned to the Warriors' quarters to the appropriate location. It's simple, merely return to the ramp-well and descend one level, then walk in this same direction. We have a cluster of quarters prepared for you on deck one. The toiletries units have been...adapted...to handle both liquid and solid waste. We have also provided large, valved containers of water as it is my understanding that most of you would be uncomfortable with drinking from the stream.> He gestures a short way to his left, indicating the clear, babbling brook of water.
He directs a private thought to Joanne and Keshin. <<You are speaking of a drug, I assume. You will need to supply me with information.>>
He speaks to the entire group again. <Does anyone wish to retire to quarters at this time?>
-
Keshin listens carefully to Ossanlin's speech about trust to the assembled rebels. Joanne's chest still hurts, and he can still feel the struggling pangs of her accelerated heartbeat. It's not like this hasn't happened before: they have countless small issues like this a week, and the number of issues is only increasing. Keshin shifts his weight carefully, trying not to look as weak as they both feel. It wouldn't be good to show weakness among this crowd---he doesn't like them any more than they like him. Ossanlin and Myitt are both too honorable to get rid of their "liability," but of Ossanlin's crew and the other rebels he knows nothing.
<Bah, yeah. But we can' jus' go about this like usual.>
<How in Kandrona are we supposed to go about it, then? They're clearly not willing to throw us a bone, even when we offer ourselves.>
<Can' blame 'em there, Kess. We tried to kill 'im.>
<He interfered with our job and nearly murdered us by proxy. There was little other choice.>
<Well, we have to get th' stuff somehow. We need to talk to Blue Boy in private.>
"We don't wish to retire," states Keshin, rubbing his chest but holding his own without too much difficulty. "....we will need to speak with you on the bridge regarding certain difficulties. I realize that we have a history and that you don't like us because of it, but this isn't something we can ignore."
-
"Your Princes just have not met me yet," Dom says with a self-assured grin. "Likely they need an excuse to loosen up. I know I do." His expression darkens again as he thinks about just how much he would like to drink himself into a stupor to forget what has happened.
"I think I will take you up on the relaxation offer," he says to Ossanlin. "I do not know how much use I will be in finding the others, so perhaps it is best I stay out of the way."
Efaen jumps in surprise when Claxter approaches her; her eyes had been on the ground and she didn't hear his approach. Now she looks up, regarding him warily. "How can you promise something like that?" she asks. "The last time I was on this ship bad things happened. I was locked away and carted back to your Homeworld like a prisoner. Like cargo."
His offer to morph seems to perplex her. "Why would you morph? Aren't you more comfortable in that form?"
Keslin hovers close to Tess as she mounts the Andalite, his hands hovering protectively near her, lest she falls. Only after Ossanlin mentions the bridge does he begin to look conflicted. "Tess..." he murmurs, pretending that Enorryma is not there at all. "You should go to the quarters and rest. So long as you feel safe. I--" He sighs, lips turned down apologetically. "I should go to the bridge with the Andalite. Half the people here are pirates...they need to see me in charge."
<<So much for taking time off when the babies are born,>> Chris mutters dejectedly.
<<Chris...>> Keslin sighs. <<I am sorry, truly I am. If it becomes a problem, I...I can see if Dom or Niko or someone else who is unhosted will allow me to infest them temporarily. You have done more than your duty, these years.>>
<<**** that, man,>> Chris says with a soft, internal laugh. <<We're in this together, like we always have been. Just don't forget about Tess, alright? She needs you too.>>
<<Yes, I know,>> Keslin says, dropping his gaze down to his ever-trembling hands. <<I need her, as well. As much as I ever have.>>
Terenia continues sobbing, little tremors running through her body. She gives no indication of hearing or understanding Ossanlin. She only time she looks up her eyes lock briefly on Illim's. "Too much," she whispers, her words barely comprehensible through her tears. "I can't do this."
-
Claxter thought maybe he was going to like Dom. Just as long as he didn't take things too far. Andalites and Humans may have different opinions of what is too far, though.
<We're not going back to the Homeworld, Efaen. We're all rebels now. Prince Ossanlin was just trying to get you away from the rebels, and due to your wipe you had forgotten that they weren't your friends. Perhaps some have been friendly, but Myitt surely isn't and she's one of the ones in charge. The Andalites that abandoned you are not the Andalites that are on this ship, and if anyone gives you a hard time, I'll find them something better to do. As for morphing, I wouldn't feel uncomfortable on the ship as a Human. If you would feel more comfortable with me as a Human, I'll morph. I just want you to feel more safe here.>
<Was your talk with the Electorate before or after you were sent home? Did Prince Ossanlin take you home after the Electorate decided they didn't want you back? In any case, did you think he was just going to leave you there? You attacked them, they wiped your memory and put a Yeerk in your head, and then what? Why would he just leave you to them, exactly?>
<You know, part of it was his fault. He wasn't the one who convinced you to go to the rebels, but he was the one who let you go. It was a bad idea.>
-
Efaen stares at him, unsure how to begin answering his barrage of questions. "Um..." she starts, then falters. Licking her lips she tries again. "Ossanlin took me from the rebels because I...because of the murderous acts I committed. From what he and others have told me, they were not a part of my orders, and by killing the Yeerks in the pool I went against orders. He was relieving me from duty."
She sighs a little, looking out over the false homeworld. "He would have come for me whether they erased my memories or not. He probably would have taken me to the Electorate whether they erased my memories or not. They're the ones who pass judgment for war crimes. The Electorate decided from there that I was...that I wasn't fit for active military duty. That my memory wipe essentially made me a vecol." She practically spits the Andalite word, her melancholy expression briefly exchanged for anger. "Even if I hadn't had my memory wiped I may have been relieved from military duty for my actions. I certainly would have been dishonored, which for some unfathomable reason matters more to you people than winning."
-
<As far as honor or winning goes, the way you get there is more important than getting to your destination. That's why honor is important. I'm sure we're not the only species who has valued honor. Now, I don't think Prince Ossanlin is going to give you further punishment just for what you did, so there isn't much reason to believe something horrible is going to happen just because you're on his ship again. We're all in the same boat. I'm sure at least most of us have done things we regret, and yours is certainly not the worst wrong that's been committed among the people on this ship. As long as we cooperate, we can get through this, and we're all on the same side here.>
-
Ossanlin nods to the congregated rebels. <Serid, please remain with the group while I escort Tess to the First Medical Officer's quarters. Once those two return from the Flight Commander's quarters, have Akseth stay here in order to assist those who wish to remain in the dome and keep Erril with you as you escort those who wish down to the Warrior's quarters. Order him to remain there and provide any necessary assistance, then return to the bridge.>
<Those who wish to remain in the dome, please stand over here.> Ossanlin points to his left. <Those of you who wish to retire to quarters, please stand over here.> He points to his right. <And those who wish to accompany me to the bridge, please stand here.> He points directly out in front of himself. <I will return shortly.> He moves his main eyes to regard his TO. <Enorryma...Tess, please follow me.>
Ossanlin turns and begins to trot back and to the right, phasing through the hologram to reveal a set of widely-spaced doors and windows in the aft wall of the bottom of the dome. He commands one of the doors to open, and it slides to the side to reveal a fairly spacious little apartment. At the far end of the room is another sealed door. To the left is a living area with a viewscreen, and then a sleeping suite. A row of windows all along the wall look out into the Dome proper, but they are polarized one-way, so that the occupants of the room may see out, but no one else may see in. A work-station sits just off from the other door, and along the back-side wall is an enclosed space with another door that contains the waste processor and cleaning suite.
He enters and turns around, waiting for Enorryma and Tess to enter before speaking. <This is one of the smaller officers' quarters, but it should suit your needs. The windows are polarized one way, so that you can see out, but those outside cannot see in. During sleep, or any other time that you might desire, you may fully polarize the windows so that no light can filter through, or you can set them so that a reduced amount of light filters through. The quarters are fully insulated, no sounds will be able to disturb you through the walls.> He points to the left. <I'm afraid we do not have any...chairs...for you yet. They will need to be fabricated, though I thought it best to consult you all before creating any. But there is a viewscreen here which can be used for whatever purposes you wish. It's linked to the ship's communications systems. The sleeping suite is sequestered in that corner...it uses force fields to suspend your body, much like the medical support system. You can customize how firm the field's support is. I do believe you can cause it to resemble the firmness of a human nest.>
He trots in a bit further and gestures to the toiletries area. <The waste disposal system is back there...it, too, uses force fields to guide waste away from the body and properly dispose of it. There is a shower with both sonic and hydrous capabilities. The workstation contains a basic tool kit. That's about it. Feel free to relax. If you have any questions or concerns, you may use the viewscreen to request assistance, either from the central computer's mainframe, or from me.>
Ossanlin falls silent, waiting to see if Tess has any questions or if Enorryma has anything she wishes to contribute to the explanations.
-
Efaen's dark eyebrows rise. "No?" she asks quietly. "Who here has done worse than murder dozens of helpless creatures in cold blood when they could not protest or fight back?" She gives Claxter a small, flat smile. "I don't remember doing it, but it still weighs on my conscience. What weighs even heavier, though, is the fact that the person I was before the memory wipe likely would have viewed such an atrocity as a victory."
Keslin trails behind Ossanlin and Enorryma, his eyes on Tess the entire time. Whether he intends on going to the bridge or not, he is certainly not leaving Tess until he knows where she is, and that she is safe and comfortable.
"Tess," Keslin murmurs, "I still have my comm link, it was in my holster. If you need me...if anything happens. Just let me know, okay?" He steps forward, ignoring the Andalites, and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I love you."
-
<Let's see. There was a Human who abandoned her family because her father hit them sometimes when he was drunk. She found the Andalites, got morphing power, and eventually became a Yeerk nothlit. Later she kidnapped an Andalite to go serve a Visser to save her sister. Even when she found out her sister was a voluntary controller, and the Yeerk emperial treated her sister with more respect than she treated her slave, she still wanted to take her sister away to who knows where.>
<She did work for Visser Three for years, surely doing horrible things for self centered reasons while treating her host like property. Eventually she met an Andalite Prince, but like a hypocrite complained about unwanted help while she had been trying to give unwanted help to her sister. She eventually killed her sister, and convinced her slave to come to the rebels, though only because she wanted her slave to continue being her host. That Prince actually managed to get her back to her Human self, where they both went to the rebels together.>
<So yes, while killing a bunch of helpless Yeerks was wrong, and the Electorate was probably more angry that you disobeyed orders than about the dead Yeerks, worse things have been done for worse reasons. That is, of course, just one example, and there could be other stories I'm not aware of.>
-
Efaen watches Claxter, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm well aware of Terenia's past, as well as how it was entangled with my own," she says darkly. "Just because I don't remember it, that doesn't mean I don't hear the stories. But you are missing the point. Terenia ruined my life. Ruined her sister's life. Ruined her own life, perhaps, I do not know. But I destroyed dozens of sentient lives. Not just the lives of those who died, but of those who cared about the victims. Terenia killed one person. I killed scores."
She turns away, the conversation clearly making her angry. "Besides, without Terenia I would not be alive today. I have no quarrel with her."
-
<You think Terenia didn't ruin lives while Visser Three sent her on errands?> Claxter asked. <You think your past family and friends didn't grieve for your loss? However many you had? How can you say if it weren't for Terenia, you wouldn't be alive? If she hadn't taken you from your home, you think you would have died? That being a slave was better than the life you had before? You really think you did more harm in one instant that Terenia did in years? Honestly?>
He took a breath. <Well my attempts at convincing you to relax don't seem to be helping. I can tell you're feeling isolated and alone, and I want to comfort you. Make you feel like there's at least one person who wants to see you happy. I'm just not completely sure how yet.>
-
"I don't know anything about that life except for what people tell me," Efaen responds, exasperated. "Maybe Terenia ruined my life, maybe she didn't. Does it matter? I don't remember any of it. I don't remember that person, and I don't want to remember her. I don't want to be her. Terenia was the one who wiped my memories -- her and that husband of hers -- when I was slated for execution. So I have that to thank her for, at least." She shrugs. "Honestly, beyond that I don't know her. I've avoided talking to her. I don't want to have contact with people who might trigger memories of who I was." Her eyebrows raise pointedly.
-
<You're really not much different than the person you were back then, though. What do you think would really change? You think you would forget what you know now if you regained your memories? You think you would turn on the people you value now? Does not knowing what bad they may have done really make them better friends? If they didn't, what reason would you have for turning against them?>
<Assuming what Terenia supposedly did was true, there's little to thank her for. She's partly responsible for what happened anyway. Not that I'm saying you should get into a fight with her.>
-
Enorryma had carried Tess into the suite where she and her mate would be staying. She waited for Ossanlin to finish speaking before carrying Tess toward the sleeping station, which would undoubtedly be more comfortable for the human than Norry's back.
<I can let you off here to rest more comfortably. If I get any information about medical care for you, Tess, I will bring it to you or your mate immediately.>
Norry carefully uncoiled the length of her tail away from Tess and held it away so that Tess could use it as a balance support when she dismounted. It hadn't been as bad as she'd expected, carrying the human. The weight was no worse than the time she'd visited a planet with exceptionally high gravity, and she had gotten fewer stares than she had expected to get. She had been relieved that the infirm human hadn't had to walk the whole distance on her own power.
<<Tess, if you need help or just to get someplace else on the ship, you can use the comm-screen to ask for me. As long as I'm not needed more badly elsewhere, I will assist you as well as I can.>>
She turned her stalk eyes toward Ossanlin. <Sir, once we have the humans settled, what is next on the agenda?>
-
Ossanlin watches as Enorryma helps Tess down. <We need to attempt a rendezvous with any remaining free Rebels. Hopefully those with us will be able and willing to supply the proper coordinates.> He waits to see if Tess is settled comfortably.
-
Tess carefully lets herself down to the quarters' polished floor, taking a few moments to look around and surreptitiously wipe the few tears that Keslin's gentle goodbye had brought forth. "Thank you both for your kindness," she says quietly, turning to face them while still keeping one hand on Enorryma's back. "It's been a very difficult past few weeks... months... however long it's been since the base--" Her voice catches, and she looks down.
Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. "You said there was a suspension... bed?" she asks the Andalites tentatively. "I think that sounds like where I need to be about now." Tess gives a helpless laugh, glancing up at them. "I hate feeling this weak."
Illim watches Terenia worriedly and puts an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer. "Don't talk like that, yeah?" he says quietly, his brown eyes fixed on her. "C'mon. You're gonna stay with Myitt and me til you're feeling better. God knows we all need to hold our friends close now. And you're my best one."
Serid gives Ossanlin a formal nod and a quiet <Yes sir> at his orders and then surveys the humans and Yeerks suddenly in his care. <Greetings. I am Command Warrior Serid-Harman-Piluk, Security Squad Leader on board. Please feel free to come to me, any of you, with anything you require, and I will convey the message to the appropriate parties. Shortly, I will be escorting those of you who wish to retire to your quarters,> he tells the group. <Please remain nearby, all of you.>
His stalk eyes swing slowly between Claxter and Illim, interested in both of their actions, though for different reasons. It appears an unstable lot, he observes to himself with a tinge of worry
-
<Yes; if you just walk toward that area where the floor is a different colour, I will activate the bed for you.>
Norry palmed one of the wall sensors and turned on the suspension field. The light over that area of the floor distorted a bit in the force field, showing where it began and ended.
<You can control it with the pad on the adjacent wall; it has an analogue dial as well as thought-speech sensitivity. You can adjust how firm or soft it feels.>
-
Ossanlin nods. <Kindness is in short supply in the Galaxy.> He glances at Enorryma with his main eyes before returning them to Tess. He'd not thought his tough-as-hooves TO would be one to show such kindness. He'd not given her enough credit. He gestures to an insulated metal container setting on the work-station. <There is water inside that tank, and bowls for drinking. We are still in the process of converting the water suppliers within the quarters to eject water at a suitable height for humans, rather than filling the floor bowl. Once we have more raw materials, we will be able to synthesize human food products, but for now, we'll have to use what we've taken from the facility's storage room. Myitt and Illim will be in charge of dispensation.>
He nods to both Tess and Keslin before heading back out into the Dome toward the waiting group. <Thank you all for waiting patiently. We'll be heading toward the bridge now. Those of you who wish to stay within the Dome, all that we ask is that you not destroy or defile any of the plant-life.> He nods to Serid. <Those of you wishing to retire to the Warriors' quarters, please follow Serid. And those of you wishing to accompany myself to the bridge, please follow me.>
Ossanlin itches to stop by his own quarters to exchange the Yeerk weapon belt with his sash-strap sword-belt. He misses the comforting weight of his katana at his sides. But they can wait. Other matters are more pressing. He sets off toward the front of the Dome with confident steps, though he is careful to keep those steps slow enough that the humans can keep up without straining. The far hologram begins to phase out to reveal the Dome's wall. The doors open seamlessly in front of Ossanlin and he proceeds into a fair-length corridor. He passes another large ramp-well that provides access to all decks of the ship before coming to the bridge doors. He commands them to open and they slide open almost noiselessly to reveal the Bridge.
The floor is carpeted with a dark green rubber-like material to provide even more grip than the patterned floor of the hallways. The bridge follows the front curvature of the ship, the entire sloped, curving bridge-hull made of the same transparent, poly-carbon material as the dome. Partially polarized for perfect viewing quality, it shows the stars and a portion of the planet core in front of the ship. The hull is opaque from the outside, and the entire section of hull that makes up the bridge wall is shielded by its own closed-circuit triply-redundant energy shield that is active at all times. The room is bright and well-lit, like the rest of the ship, but holo-displays glow in front of each bridge station, and each officer stands inside the arc of a rainbow-shaped touch console, facing the front of the ship.
The Captain's station is seated in the center of the upper deck in front of the two ramps that descend from either side to the middle of the lower deck which is slung down half a level and out in front of the upper deck. The TO's station is centered out in front on the lower level, the sensors station located to the left of the TO station, and the Helm located to the right of the TO station. The FO's station is located to the right of the Captain's station on the upper deck, and the Comms station is located to the Captain's left. The security officer standing on duty at the bridge entrance, the one that Serid would be relieving shortly, calls out <War Prince on deck!> and performs a tail-salute. The rest of the current bridge crew turn and salute as well.
Ossanlin nods. <At ease.> He turns to address the humans, Yeerks, and Andalites that had followed him in from the dome. <This...is the Bridge.> He gestures with both hands.
-
Efaen's lips set into a thin line. "No, I do not think that, if my memories were returned, I would turn on my friends. But I do not know for certain and I do not want those memories back. Why would I want to remember the pain I caused? Or the pain that was inflicted upon me? I am -- was -- happy with who I am now. I was content to serve the rebellion. Now, if you'll excuse me."
She turns, stalking over to Myitt. She completely ignores Terenia, who is leaning into Illim, in the midst of a full-on breakdown, and instead addresses the Yeerk who told her she had a place in the rebellion.
"Myitt," she says, nodding curtly. "I'd like to apologize for anything my role at Corvus may have done to ruin your opinion of me. I assure you, my memories have not come back, nor do I want them to. I don't know what happened to Arnash -- the Electorate took him from me -- but if he were here I would gladly be reinfested." She swallows, glancing around the Dome nervously. "These aren't my people," she says flatly. "And they never will be, dammit. I--" Sighing, she runs a hand through her dark curls, identical in texture to Myitt's own host's hair. "Ossanlin wants to try and help find any survivors. If we do, and some are hostless, consider myself available. I don't know what else I can ****ing do."
She falls silent then, as Ossanlin returns to the Dome. When he asks for those interested to follow him to the bridge she hangs back, opting to remain in the Dome, away from the Andalite Captain's watch.
Keslin plants one final kiss on Tess' forehead before following Ossanlin back to the Dome. "I appreciate your help," he says quietly as they walk. "It may be prudent to place a priority on locating any of our lost medical staff. Tess is going to go into labor soon, and no one here knows how to deliver one child, let alone two. It's dangerous for the babies, and for her." He keeps his voice level as he talks, but the way Chris' eyes tighten and his hands tremble give light to his nerves.
He continues following Ossanlin to the bridge, gesturing for Aya and Lanath to follow. Dom seems content to stay on the bridge, and Keslin leaves him there, trusting that the Croatian man will keep abreast of the situation in his own ways.
"Lanath, Aya," he murmurs under his breath as they walk, "I need your memory now more than ever. Keep close to Ossanlin, befriend some of the other Andalites if you can. You'll report to me periodically once we reinstitute the Council." Chris' sharp blue eyes raise to Ossanlin's back, then lower again. "I am grateful to them, but I do not trust them."
When they reach the bridge, Keslin comes to a halt, eyebrows raising in interest. <<I never thought I would live to see the bridge of an Andalite Dome Ship,>> he comments to Chris, a part of him eager to go and inspect the controls. He remains still, though, wary gaze on Ossanlin.
"Impressive," Keslin comments diplomatically, clasping his hands behind his back. When the other Andalites on the bridge salute Ossanlin he cannot help but smirk a little.
<<Man, can you imagine how our people would've reacted if we made them salute us?>> Chris asks, laughing a little.
<<This is a more structured society,>> Keslin says mildly, lowering his gaze to hide his amusement.
-
<I'm sure if I was captured by Imperials, and had my memories wiped, they could convince me being a slave was a good life too. It's easy to convince someone of anything if they don't remember anything.> He said as Efaen walked off. He let her go after the comment, and walked over to Serid.
<If you need any assistance with helping the controllers, I'll help out. I know it's not exactly something you're used to doing.>
-
Esarvit returns from contemplation in his personal quarters, where he's been carrying out an ancient prayer. His quarters are still entirely his own--for the time being. Oh, it's not that they need to adhere to all the trappings of rank when they're taking on so many civilians--and others--but all the same, he thinks, Ossanlin had better maintain some symbols of order. Their position is too precarious, otherwise.
Esarvit begins to configure his ARC so that he can tote it around with him and it will begin storing data files of the newcomers. Anything to help him match alien faces with names. This seeming to function, he makes his way out into the common areas, trying to hold the machine unobtrusively.
-
Enorryma stepped around the cluster of humans standing near the entrance of the bridge, making her way down to her own console and extracting her sidearm's original components from a storage panel at the console. She immediately set to work refitting her Shredder to have its original custom lens array, and she put the Dracon array back into the storage space. She made other adjustments to her utili-kit and mounted her small parabolic mirror back on the edge of the console, where it belonged, and where she could see the captain's main console above and behind her, even if her stalk eyes were busy receiving information from sensors and Helm.
Finally satisfied that all was as it ought to be with her gear, and determining through brief diagnostics that the TO console was in the proper working order as usual, she directed curt nods of acknowledgement to her junior officers on the bridge and then walked back up to where Ossanlin spoke with the rebels.
-
Ossanlin nods to Keslin. <<I will defer to the survivors' judgment as to our destination in search of the remaining rebellion members. You may rest assured that we will do everything within our power to guarantee the health and survival of your ho...>> He stops himself from saying "host's" and revises his statement. <<...of your offspring. Every life is important.>>
He nods to Enorryma before a thought-speech voice catches his attention. It was Verden, temporarily in charge of the sensors station. <My Prince, our sensor probe has picked up a Z-Space signature dropping out on the other side of the planet!>
Ossanlin jerks and spins around. <Enorryma, we need to jump now...blind if need-be.> He dials up the ship-wide comm... <Prince Lieutenant Esarvit, report to the bridge sensors station immediately.> He closes the comm and glances over at Verden again. <What does the probe say?>
<It's a destroyer-class vessel, sir. It has readings...unlike I've ever seen before. I can't get a clear picture...but the energy output suggests Shredders sir...>
Ossanlin's face loses expression. Somehow, his own people had tracked him. A destroyer-class Andalite vessel of unknown specifications...it screams Sector 7. They might have a way of tracking energy trajectories...abov e all he cannot allow them to see the Tyrennian.
He steps into his station and glances down at the temporary helmsman, Erkor. <Warrior Erkor, keep the planet core between us and that ship. It should still be shrouding our signature...we must prevent them from seeing us.>
He dials up the ship-wide comm using his console once again. <All personnel, this is War-Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel. Prepare for a Z-space blind-jump, I repeat, prepare for a Z-Space blind-jump.> He uses his Captain's console to sound the ship claxon, the bridge's alert indicators suddenly glowing bright yellow to indicate immediate hazard, the holographic tactical and information displays jumping up in front of him.
~
Cendir sighs as Model 71 once again drops out of Z-Space. The necessity of the assignment does nothing to assuage its tedium in her mind. Tracking a ship in this manner is troubling at best. Due to the fluid nature of Z-Space, tracking ships through it is strictly impossible. However, all pilots are trained in the Academy to orient their vessels in the real-space direction of their destination before jumping. Physically speaking, it's completely unnecessary...but it made tracking ships possible, if....tedious. It required the tracking ship to drop out of Z-Space at intervals to check for their quarry. It could be maddening and was certainly frustrating beyond reason, but it could pay very big dividends.
<Sir, we have some anomalous readings near the exposed planet core up ahead.>
Cendir raises her eyebrows and nods. <Get us closer...if we find whoever absconded from Corvus, Lord-Commander Iksilon will be most pleased.> She glances around the sleek white, silver, and black lines of Model 71's bridge interior. Iksilon preferred to call the ship "Shadowscythe," but Model 71 is it's true designation. Cendir chuckles to herself at his strange little idiosyncrasies. Her mate was often far more artistic than he would ever admit. Of course she would call the ship "Shadowscythe" in his presence, he would tolerate no less, but while she's in command, it would always be Model 71. "Shadowscythe" had been her own call-sign until Iksilon had appropriated it for his little toy of a ship. She still bristled about having to change her personal call-sign to "Shadowstrike" just to satiate Iksilon's whims...it probably played no small part in her absolute refusal to accept the ship as "Shadowscythe."
She taps at her cheek with a finger, lost in thought as she so often had been lately regarding the Corvus raid. Iksilon was convinced that it couldn't have been Imperials. Oh he was a shrewd one, Iksilon. And powerful, though he hid it well from outsiders. A clever and devious mind...the Lord-Commander of Sector 7 could possess no less. Even the title "Lord-Commander" was unknown to outsiders. Who would expect that unassuming little Sector 7, a mere intelligence analysis branch of the government, actually had strings tied to nearly every person of power amongst the Andalite people? That even those who were tied so tightly that they could not even act without the express wishes of Sector 7 had no idea that those strings bound them? She chuckles to herself again.
Of course she harbors no delusions. A person in Iksilon's position could not afford emotion or conscience. Their mateship is certainly not typical. They respect each other...she an exceptionally talented assassin, and he arguably the most powerful Andalite alive. Love has no part in it, and Cendir has no doubt that Iksilon would have her killed if it suited him. The key to surviving was both simple and elegant...make sure she remains more useful to him alive than dead. There was a sort of exciting danger about their relationship...she could kill him...but she would not survive the effort long. Still...that excitement and the opportunities granted by her position are worth the danger to her.
If Iksilon hadn't had business at Corvus, he would be here too...but it isn't every day that someone manages to locate a highly-secretive Yeerk detention center, infiltrate it, neutralize it, free selective Yeerk and human prisoners, and escape with enough human fodder and Kandrona generators to last several months. So, the task of tracing the vessel responsible had fallen to her. Time, of course, was of supreme essence.
-
<Yes, Sir!>
Enorryma dashed back down the ramp to the TO console and interfaced Helm and sensors to project a map of available jumps. The computer kept a peripheral programme running most of the time to calculate viable emergency jump locations. Right now, the only standard for 'viable' was 'not within the event horizon of any singularity or similar mass.' Norry whispered a prayer to Sky for good judgment, dialed the computer down to a navigational distance out of the other ship's sensor range, and then randomly selected one of the potential sets of coordinates that the computer had churned out. She ran the calculations mentally against what little she already knew of this quadrant of the galaxy, determining that as blind-jumps go, at least they weren't liable to end up in the middle of a star cluster. She entered the coordinates and sent them over to Helm.
<Coordinates obtained. Jumping, Sir, on your queue!>
-
<Oh no.> Claxter said worriedly when he heard Z-Space blind jump. Of course they wouldn't bve doing it if it wasn't the only option, but one bad Z-Space experience was enough for one day. <I suggest all bipedal people sit down. It could get bumpy, even with a big ship. Hopefully we'll be fine, though.>
-
"Thanks," Tess gives Enorryma, Keslin and Ossanlin a nod and smile before they leave her to begin tentatively testing out the strange bed, her dark eyes wide as she focuses on not allowing herself to fall through what is essentially thin air.
By the time she hears Ossanlin's announcement, she is securely cradled in the bed. She reaches out to sit up, but there is no way to do it properly, and she makes a choked, nervous sound.
Illim looks up at the announcement, keeping a grip on both Myitt and Terenia. His gaze falls to Serid as the Andalite steps forward.
<New friends,> Serid calls to the humans and Yeerks who are still standing before him, <Warrior Claxter's advice is good: please remain calm and find something to steady yourself. We are in good hands, I assure you.>
-
Ossanlin watches the monitor as the unidentified ship closes with the exposed planet core. <We're out of time. Verden, save as much information from the probe as you can, then transmit the self-destruction directive. The last thing we need is them finding Andalite tech floating here.>
Verden nods before speaking up. <Destruct directive transmitted sir.>
<Enorryma, we'll need to do another blind jump immediately after this one without re-orienting the ship. Execute the second jump as soon as you can after the first.> He pauses a moment, and his eyes harden as he give the command. <Mark!> He grips his console...the first jump wouldn't be that bad, not in a Dome Ship, but the second would be reality-wrenching.
-
Enorryma's eyes widened at the prospect of a double blind-jump, but she immediately returned her focus to her console.
<Jumping.>
The ship gave its usual minimal protestation, its hull and force fields deforming in the typical manner and then rebounding as they passed into the marshmallow-whiteness and then back out again almost immediately.
<Sensors, get me a key on major masses in the vicinity, and rule them out for second-jump targeting.>
She couldn't be sure that the ship would have enough time to key up every likely hazard. As soon as it turned out coordinates for two large masses, she started calculations for a location equidistant to both, hoping that being in two opposing gravity wells would keep the ship from jumping directly into either of them. Within moments, she had her position targeted, blindly hoping that there were no other objects already inhabiting it.
<Second jumping.>
The vessel made a disconcerting groan in objection to the forces at play.
-
Ossanlin grimaces as the second jump occurs, the ship and everything around him almost seeming to bend at the close distortion...but even
Sector 7 shouldn't be able to track anything through that.
Finally the stars blink back into view...their surroundings appear to be a binary star-system, and they'd emerged directly between the two stars. The gravity between the two would have unfortunate consequences if the Tyrennian doesn't move soon.
<Helm, take us beyond these stars.>
The ship moves forward seamlessly, eventually pulling to a safe distance before stopping again. <Good work, Enorryma. That was too close. Yaolin Sector 7...always turning up unwanted.> He hadn't really meant to say that last part out loud, but he's distracted by the thoughts of how the Mirage had been traced. Hopefully the double-jump ruse would fool the trackers, but best not to dawdle and find out.
<We need coordinates.> He turns from his console and glances at the gathered rebels. <We need to find your remaining survivors. Can anyone supply Prince-Commander Enorryma with appropriate coordinates? We need to be underway.>
~
<Sir, we're detecting a buildup of Z-strain radiation on the far side of the planet core.>
Cendir curses to herself. She'd let the first one slide, but this second one...she would have to take action. <Plot a pursuit course, and if you call me "sir" one more time, your head will find its way free of your neck.>
<Y-yes, Mistress.> The cowed operative starts plotting a pursuit course when another speaks up.
<Mistress, we've detected a localized implosion charge to our port.>
Cendir sneers...a sensor probe, of course. The planet-core would've interfered with the enemy's sensors too...they'd had a probe watching nearby. <Note the location of the implosion, but follow that Z-wake...they must've jumped blind, they won't have gone far.>
The blank whiteness of Z-Space envelopes Model 71 for a moment before reverting. Cendir suddenly stumbles at some sort of sudden irregularity.
<Mistress...we're reading massive Z-Strain fluctuations...they must've blind-jumped again...we must withdraw.>
<Yaolin! Take us back to the exposed planet core, perhaps we'll find something of use there...>
<Are we breaking off the pursuit, then, Mistress?>
<They jumped randomly...they could have traveled any direction from this point, literally any direction, and if they've done it again...it's a waste of time.> Cendir fumes to herself. She'd been so close to success only to have it dashed away in the strike of a tail. Still, Iksilon would be pleased with any data they might manage to scrounge up.
After a few moments of blank whiteness again, the exposed planet core looms in front of Model 71. <Examine the implosion charge first...then we'll need to pull any energy data from around that planet-core.> She takes a few deep breaths...she'd been all but ready to dial up Iksilon with her triumphal news...perhaps it would be better to wait until she'd finished collecting whatever data the enemy had left behind. <Perhaps we can at least find out why they stopped here.>
Model 71 slows as it nears the small implosion, scanning for information. <The size of the dispersal cloud would suggest something the size of a sensor-probe, Mistress. Apparently armed with a proton implosion charge. Nothing remains but ionized gas. The data is inconclusive.>
Cendir hisses to herself. Not even a scrap of tech left behind, even for Model 71's incredibly gifted sensor arrays. <The planet core then.>
Model 71 glides to the exposed planet core and begins a broad-spectrum sweep. Cendir takes a deep breath...she needs something to give to Iksilon.
<Mistress, the sensors have found a radiation pattern in orbit around the planet-core. It's very faint.>
<Show me.> Cendir glances up at the main view-screen as holographic projectors colorize a series of bands around the small planet-core.
<Interesting...inter esting. The radiation patterns we picked up at Corvus...run a comparison.> Cendir begins to tap her cheek, this time in restrained joy and no little bit of relief. Iksilon liked interesting things.
<They do not match, Mistress. Whatever ship created this radiation pattern was much larger than the ship that landed at Corvus. The computer suggests a Blade Ship as a possible match. Whatever it was, it's much larger than the ship that left Corvus.>
Cendir begins to smile. That was why the enemy stopped here...to rendezvous. A capital ship...now that was interesting. <Continue your analysis. I will be in my private quarters.>
A chorus of <Yes, mistress...> follows Cendir as she makes her way a short distance down the hall to her quarters. She enters and immediately removes her transponder, sending an encrypted hail to Iksilon on their dedicated clear channel.
-
Efaen's cheeks redden at Claxter's implication that the rebels had brainwashed her. She turns to respond, but then Ossanlin's voice fills her mind, veering her thoughts in another direction. How safe can this place possibly be, she wonders as she lowers herself to the ground, preparing for the bumpy ride.
Chris' eyebrows raise and Keslin moves over to the wall, so that he can brace himself if need be. The double jump is disorienting, but he keeps his balance well enough. He takes a few moments to catch his breath, and to allow Ossanlin to speak to his crew, before he speaks up.
"Ossanlin," Keslin says quietly. "How much danger are we in at being discovered and recaptured by your people?"
-
Ossanlin glances at Keslin. <Larger than I thought, and it grows with every moment we remain stationary. We need a bearing if you have one.>
-
Claxter managed to maintain balance as the ship shook, and was glad when it stopped. <I take it we're being pursued.> He said to Serid. <More combat with fellow Andalites seems inevitable, uncomfortable as it may be.>
-
Ossanlin frowns slightly at the suddenly-mute rebels... <I honestly thought you'd all be a bit more eager to reunite with the rest of your survivors.>
Why had they all suddenly fallen so deathly silent? The most-obvious explanation is that they still don't trust him, regardless of everything he's done. The others might have excuses for distrust...but Myitt should know better, and should've had enough weight with the rest to be able to reassure them. Perhaps she'd over-stated her station amongst the rebels, though that seems like a highly unlikely scenario given what Ossanlin knows personally of Myitt.
He directs a stalk-eye at Enorryma without removing his main eyes from the rebels. <Enorryma, I noticed you working the holo-charts with one of the rebels aboard the Mirage. Were you able to ascertain any coordinates that could at least get us moving in a proper direction?>
-
<I can at least get us within the correct sector. Anything more specific than that, I cannot say, Sir.>
She dialed up a galactic map on her console and zoomed in on the area of this arm of the galaxy where she had seen the Controllers focusing their calculations. This would be like finding one blade of grass in a field, but perhaps they would get lucky: maybe a Controller would start talking, or maybe they would find sensors or other evidence of habitation, which could point them in a more refined direction.
-
<Get us moving, then. We can't afford to sit on our haunches with Sector Seven hunting us.> Ossanlin nods. Hopefully one of the rebels would be willing to provide a more-direct set of coordinates...
He turns back to his console, bringing up the same galactic map that Enorryma has up, watching her plot the course. Even with a near-optimal curvature of Z-Space, the journey would take a few days. He silently hopes that the Rebels had informed Enorryma correctly...if not, this would be a very long and fruitless detour.
-
Illim looks between the fellow rebels who had followed Ossanlin. His skin is plane from the jump, but he looks determined. Turning his eyes on Ossanlin, he murmurs, "If you're willing to do this to run from your people--if you're willing to continue saving us--then I think we should trust you with the first set of coordinates. I can't promise they won't fire on us if they're there waiting, though," he raises his eyebrows. "You're gonna have to be quick about reaching out to them."
Serid turns his main eyes on him. <We cannot know that,> he replies stiffly. <I do not relish the idea of creating more and more enemies in this war. Not after I have finally made some friends.>
He looks around at the humans who have remained with him. <Are you all well? Is anyone injured?>
Tess moans in relief when the ship seems to settle, her hands clasped over her stomach. "God, can't we just have some quiet?" she whispers to her empty quarters.
-
<It would be ideal if we could focus solely on the Empire, and avoid any hostile Andalites. Now that things have settled, let's get the guests to the rooms.>
<If you're all ready to continue, let's show you to your quarters.> He said to the group.
-
Keshin and Joanne follow Ossanlin all the way to the bridge, perhaps against their better judgment. They cannot retire until they know if they will even live for another month aboard Ossanlin's ship. Keshin rubs Joanne's chest again---the pain seems to have completely subsided now. Good---they really can't afford an attack on an Andalite ship.
Ossanlin's bridge seems to be an orderly and quiet place, right up until they find out they're being tracked by another group of Andalites. Keshin really has to wonder what's going on with this race---how many special forces are there, exactly? The Electorate is evidently somewhere between a well-oiled machine and a bureaucratic faction-filled nightmare.
<Heh. Sounds jus' like the Empire. They ain't too different from their enemies.>
<I could have told you that.>
Keshin clears his throat and his mind, enduring the jumps on unsteady footing. He stumbles somewhat, but manages to maintain is around. He does not believe that he should interrupt Ossanlin while he's working----best to talk about their own particular problems when the moment calls for it.
"A--Are we safe yet?" says Keshin in a voice that shows how honestly confused and out of place he is. The Andalite world is foreign to him, and the rebels might feel the same way.
-
Ossanlin glances at Illim and nods. <I appreciate it. I do hope to avoid conflict, and I'm not quite sure how to do it yet...perhaps have one of you send a communique out to the zone shortly before we arrive...it would be better for them to hear from their own people first.>
He turns his main eyes on Keshin. <Safe? I don't know that we'll ever be safe again...but we seem to have lost them for the moment. It was a small ship, probably not a match for the Tyrennian, but I'm sure it was laden with all sorts of 'nonexistent' technology. And who's to say they wouldn't be able to simply disarm the ship? It may be possible.> Ossanlin shakes his head.
<Sector 7 is the last entity we want to have tracking us. I'm sure our ruse about the Tyrennian being destroyed has held up with the Electorate, and maybe even with Sector 7. But if anyone is able to see through the smoke, it's Sector 7. Our best defense is the belief that we are dead. Why hunt down something that's been obliterated or someone who's been destroyed?> Ossanlin turns his main eyes back to the console, but his stalk eyes continue roaming over the rebels. <Regardless, they'll know something's off about the situation now. I hope we've not left enough evidence for them to piece the truth together yet.>
-
Keslin eyes Ossanlin with wary distrust for a brief moment. "There will be time to send out an encrypted communication once we reach the coordinates, but depending on who the survivors we find are...if there are any...some may be quicker to shoot than others," he says bluntly. "It may be less alarming if they were presented with something a bit less intimidating than an Andalite Dome Ship. Especially considering what happened to our base. Is it possible to send a small rendezvous group out to initiate contact?"
He glances at Myitt briefly. "It might be best if we search for the medical rendezvous first. I don't know how much time we have before Tess needs serious medical attention, and other survivors we find may need more help than we can provide on an Andalite ship with no human or Hork-Bajir resources."
He steps up to Aya, briefly placing a trembling hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. He doesn't say anything to her, just gives her a hard stare, communicating silently that he needs her and Lanath to remain alert.
Efaen grips the grass through the shaking of the turbulant Z-space jump. When it finally ceases, she slowly pulls herself back to her feet, watching Claxter warily. She glances at the other rebels who have stayed behind, none of whom she knows or trusts particularly well, and hunches her shoulders, setting to follow Claxter in silence.
"These quarters," Dom says, as close to cheerful as he can be, "tell me they at least come with a bed. Or a mirror?" He flashes Claxter a grin as he walks beside him. He is every bit as bedraggled as the rest of the group, but somehow he seems to wear it well. "Are there hygenic facilities? I think a shower is in high order."
Terenia doesn't even attempt to follow Claxter to the quarters. She doesn't pay Serid any mind either. Instead, she leans against the wall, hugging her arms, her eyes on the ground as she cries. She can't see anyone through the curtain of tangled, dirty blonde hair, and hunched as she is it looks as though she is in physical pain. She isn't crying anymore, but she isn't responding either, leaning against the faux sky created by the Dome's hologram.
-
<The quarters do have small shower stalls to bathe in, though there are larger showers outside the rooms. Some force fields can be used as bedding, and can be as soft or firm as you need. Anything like blankets or pillows may need to be retrieved from the med bay if you need extra comfort.> He said to Dom. he couldn't help see Terenia, still broken. His curiosity nagged at him again.
<Terenia, will you pull yourself together? You have spent several years alone and friendless, so I find it hard to believe that after a short time spent with the rebels you have changed so much that you're more broken up about any new allies you have than people who likely have had loved ones considerably longer than you. I'm not saying don't grieve, but at least show some dignity and fortitude. This can't be the worst thing you've gone through in your life.>
-
"Don't worry," Myitt murmurs to Illim, worried eyes on Terenia. "We'll make sure she's, um...someplace close by." She watches the revealing of the quarters with mild interest, her mind elsewhere.
With a vacant smile she nods at Ossanlin, accepting his offer of her shared quarters with Illim with quiet thanks.
She is glad to have a task that is more easily completable than being a leader, and she dutifully sets to work organizing the necessary supplies for her friends and comrades, staying out of sight and deep within her own thoughts for some time.
When the ship rocks with a rapid jump, she makes her way unsteadily back to the bridge, clutching at her chest. Wide eyed and white as a sheet, she approaches Keslin and Ossanlin once again.
"Keslin," she breathes, swallowing, keeping her voice low. "Sorry. It's...just nerves, man. I thought we were being attacked." She glances at Ossanlin, addressing the second issue in a quick, hurried rush. "I'm not sure who we'll find at the first rendezvous mark, but it's our closest failsafe. We'll just have to hope that whomever made it there will have started sending out broad range, encrypted signals to our peers our on missions." She sighs, shaky, the color coming back into her face--but making her turn a little green. "I ****ing hope we do get some luck going our way, for once, and Sam or someone equally skilled is with them." Her shoulders sink. "I hope someone is there, at all."
She peers up at Ossanlin, resolve building in her chest. "I'm sorry I was delayed, my friend," she says quietly. "I'm afraid I'm still a bit too shell-shocked to be much of a leader." With a wan smile she throws up her hands, but seriousness furrows her brow again. "Why did we jump? I heard the announcement, but I need to know more about what we're up against. Who is this...Sector 7 I overheard you mention?"
Lanath nods, lowering his voice as he walks along with Chris. "I'll make sure to keep an eye on them, sir," he murmurs cordially. "I've had my own dealings with Andalites before. These seem a bit more war weary than those I once knew, but they are the same lot, deep down. We'll be cautious but courteous, and I'm sure Aya will remember what I forget, in my old age." He smiles, patting Chris on the shoulder.
Niko makes his way to the quarters, exhausted and world weary. He doesn't even notice Dom or any of the others as an Andalite helps him to his assigned single room, with the strange, high-tech suspension bed. He takes a few moments to turn the device on, and for once he smiles, admiring the technology.
-
Ossanlin nods at Myitt, taking a deep breath. <We seem to be safe for now.> A stalk eye lands on Enorryma. <Enorryma, give those coordinates to Edrin, let her manage Z-Space. Come to my Administration room. Myitt, if you'll come with me.> He glances at Keslin as well. He's noticed that some of the rebels seem to be taking queues from him...he must've been a sort of leader as well. <And Keslin as well.> He glances at Joanne and Keshin. <You two may come if you wish. I imagine you probably know a little of what I'm about to reveal.> He runs his eyes over the remaining rebels. <The rest of you may remain here or retire to the Dome at your leisure. You are not prisoners, nor are you my subordinates. I do, however, expect you to respect the regulations set aboard this ship. They exist for everybody's safety.>
He dials up Serid's personal comm from his console, sending him a quick message. <Command Warrior Serid, please report to my personal Administration room as soon as the hosts are settled.> That would keep the numbers in the room even..if Joanne and Keshin decided to join, that is.
He turns from his console and begins to walk around the right side of the bridge to a smallish door leading back and right at an angle. The door opens into the officers' conference room...an Andalite-waist-high table with holo-emitter screens and control pads runs along the center of the room. One side of the room is covered by a large holo-projection screen, the other is lined with windows that show the specks of star-studded space. The Z-Space course would take a minute or two to process and chart. Ossanlin continues on past the table to a second door on the far side of the room, and enters an office-like space, with what appears to be the Andalite version of a desk facing the interior of the ship. There's a small computer unit and holo-emitter along with a small work-space. Ossanlin commands the desk-structure to lower a few inches in order to make the humans a bit more comfortable, though he now has to extend his arms downward somewhat to reach the computer terminal. He moves to stand behind the desk, the outer wall behind him filled by a single window looking out into the stars. The wall to his right has a large, rotating holographic replica of the Tyrennian playing on a loop. The other has a meter-wide titanium and gold sculpture of the War Prince rank insignia fused into the bulkhead. It has always stricken Ossanlin as a bit too gaudy and declarative, but it's part of the room for a reason. If a ship's Captain could be said to have an "office," this was it.
The room is still fairly bright, though there are some muted shades of very light brown on the walls here and there. The color is meant to induce thoughts of the ground. Supposedly it is to remind those who enter the office that they stand on the Earth whilst their War Prince stands in the Sky (represented by the large window situated behind him). Ossanlin has often used the colors to remind himself that even though he's a Prince, his hooves still ultimately rest on the Earth for support. The floor is a muted green pattern, designed once again for grip.
-
Abruptly, and as if in response to her question, Tess's abdomen twists--a severe cramp, one that makes her feel like her enlarged stomach is in a vice. She presses on her abdomen to try to still the pain. It doesn't work, the pain almost a ripple across her body.
"Keslin!" she whimpers, but to no avail. There is no one on the room, and she couldn't get out of her suspension bed even if she tried. "Kes..."
Serid's attention is pulled from the ship's newcomers to his communication device as it alerts him to Ossanlin's message. <If you will excuse me, Claxter,> he murmurs, looking up to him. <The War Prince has summoned me.>
He allows the rest of the humans to pass and then turns back towards the bridge, entering it even as he watches Ossanlin disappear out of sight into the Administration room just beyond. He makes his way after him, stepping into the room and greeting Ossanlin with a respectful nod. <I am here, sir,> he says simply.
Illim rubs Myitt's back gently. "I'll get our room settled," he murmurs to her. "You lemme know if you need me, alright?" And with that, he turns, passing Serid and makes his way back to the Dome, now mostly empty. Except for Terenia. Spotting her sitting by the wall, he makes his way over swiftly. He stands over her a long moment and then slowly sits down beside her, his eyes on her behind his skewed glasses.
-
Terenia doesn't respond to Claxter, waiting until he leaves. His words penetrate her grief only slightly, curling her hands into fists as each comment hits her like a physical blow. She doesn't lash out, though, she takes it and slides to the ground and allows him to go about his business, lacking the energy to do anything else.
When she senses someone new next to her she glances up. "Illim," she says, her voice a hoarse crack. Her lips tremble a little, and she doesn't say anything more, afraid she will start crying again.
"That would be fantastic, thank you," Dom says, giving Claxter a mocking little salute as he is dropped off at his quarters. "I expect I will return to your, erh, Dome once I have made myself presentable. I do not particularly wish to remain alone in a room until further notice. I believe I have had more than enough of that, thank you."
He slips into the room, but only after making note of the quarters that are delegated to Niko. Once inside, he immediately begins investigating the alien shower system.
Efaen follows Claxter, head down. As soon as she is shown a room she disappears inside it, eager to separate herself from the Andalites and the rebels, neither of which seem to understand her. Neither of which seem eager to accept her. She sits down on the force-field created bed and stares at her bare, human toes, her brow furrowed in frustrated thoughts.
Keslin nods and pulls away from Aya and Lanath. He quickly slips his hands into his pockets to hide their tremors and follows Ossanlin back into the Administration room. "We need to convene a Council meeting as soon as we can," he murmurs quietly to Myitt as they walk, frowning at the ground. "I appreciate what Ossanlin is trying to do, attempting to integrate us, but we need to be able to speak plainly with our own people. Without prying ears."
-
<We won't lock you in.> Claxter said to Dom. <You're free to wander around the dome.>
He lingered by Efaen's room, standing out of sight. Every conversation he had with her had ended in an argument, and he didn't know what to say to make her feel at ease around him. He took a look into Tess' room to see how she was doing, and saw she wasn't doing too well. He rushed to where he saw Illim.
<Illim, I believe Tess is having further problems. I think she's running very short on time. We don't have a doctor, and we may need to settle on anyone who has the least bit of information on Human pregnancy.>
-
Enorryma set them on course and turned over the navigation to Edrin, then followed Ossanlin into his office. The flurry of activity on the bridge left her musing to herself about how she would need to eventually learn the other humans' names, just so she could tell them apart. To some extent, most of them looked basically the same to her, except the ones with different coloured head-fur and skin, and Tess, whose pregnancy made her stand out clearly.
<<You requested me, Sir.>>
-
Myitt smiles at Illim. "Thanks," she murmurs, before following Ossanlin off towards the Andalite office room.
"We need to rebuild the Council," Myitt tells Keslin as they walk, keeping her voice low. "I don't know if you've realized, Kes, but I...I can't do this on my own." She gives him a weak smile, shrugging and looking away.
When they reach the office room she slides around one side of the desk, looking around for lack of a chair, and finally settles on standing rather awkwardly where she is.
Lanath makes his rounds of the bridge, watching the proceedings with a terse expression on Aya's face.
<<Make note of these Andalites' positions,>> he says calmly. <<We may need to know who to go to, and quickly, in the event of an emergency.>>
-
Ossanlin nods to Serid and Enorryma as they enter. After Myitt and Keslin enter, he waits a few more moments to see if Keshin would join them. He shrugs internally and commands the door to shut. He leaves it unlocked in case the Yeerk changes his mind.
He spreads his main eyes over everyone in the room before speaking. <Firstly, thank you for joining me in here. The information I'm about to share with all of you cannot leave this room unless absolutely necessary. We need determination and calm, and I fear that this information could endanger that.>
He pauses a moment before continuing. <You may have noticed that we performed a double-blind-Z-Jump. The reason is simple...if any of you are Z-Space physicists, you know what I'm talking about. The swift exit and immediate re-entry into Z-Space at the same coordinates creates a temporary space-time anomaly which we call a Z-Strain Vortex. It's a weakening in the fabric of space-time which allows massive amounts of Z-Strain radiation to flood into True-Space. It distorts reality.>
He takes a deep breath and continues. <I took this action because we were being pursued. The ship was Andalite in origin, but matched no specifications on file. I may have jumped to a conclusion here, but I don't believe I'm wrong. The ship and its readings scream Sector Seven.> He glances at Enorryma and Serid. <I know you think you know Sector Seven's purpose, maybe you even suspect the truth...they are much more than an intelligence analysis entity.>
He turns his head to regard the War Prince insignia on the wall for a moment before returning his eyes to the group. <Sector Seven exists above and beyond the government. They have nearly complete autonomy. They do as they please "in the name of the People," but somehow, their actions always seem to end up with them holding a bit more power than they used to.> He pauses again, letting that sink in. <Sector Seven seeks to control everyone and everything. They are the true origin of the Yeerk-hatred propaganda campaign on the Homeworld. They think and act without fear of consequences. They are incredibly powerful, and very formidable.>
<To use a somewhat-labored metaphor...if one considers the Andalite People to be the Body, and considers the Andalite Electorate to be the Mind, Sector Seven is the Controller wrapped round that Mind. Even the Electorate don't suspect that they are dancing on Sector Seven leads...but most of them are. The most insidious part of it, is that Sector Seven is able to have the Electorate follow their designs whilst making the Electorate believe that those designs are their own.> He shakes his head.
Ossanlin moves his main eyes to Myitt and Keslin in particular. <I would stake every bit of my reputation on the belief that Sector Seven engineered and executed the attack on your base through the Electorate.> He pauses a moment before continuing. <Sector Seven probably even knew the truth...that you are not affiliated with the Empire in any way. You...we...posed a threat to Sector Seven's power. If we could work together, why couldn't others? The very foundations of their entire propaganda empire were being threatened...and a supposed victory over a Yeerk force would boost the morale of the People...so you see, Sector Seven will do anything, anything, to further itself and its agenda.>
He glances at the rotating hologram of the Tyrennian and gestures at it. <All of us see the pinnacle of technological advancement in this ship...this marvelous machine.> He returns his gaze to the group. <Sector Seven's technology is better...more advanced. They have nearly infinite resources and some of the most brilliant minds in existence. They have no conscience or morality. They show no compunction in using weapons that our own government has banned. It is my theory that the Hork-Bajir quantum virus was actually developed by Sector Seven. Alloran was a pawn, though he didn't know it.> He pauses, shaking his head again. <I have heard from a reliable source that they have continued the research and development of...of the anti-fusion warhead.> He expects some reaction from Norry at that, and perhaps from Serid too. The Andalite government had long-since banned any further weaponizing of anti-fusion technology due to its volatile nature and incredibly huge potential for destruction. Theoretically, an anti-fusion warhead could actually stop all molecular fusion within a star, thus destroying it and any systems that might be orbiting it. Even the Electorate had seen that the ability to cause a star to nova was more than any being should possess.
-
<Anti-fusion?! They cannot-> Enorryma took a step back reflexively. Bile threatened to pool in her hooves.
She shook her head. <No. They can. When quantum viruses were developed, we call cried, 'you cannot!' Still, there are quantum viruses. We would be fools to think Sector Seven gives any thought to decency, to sanctity of life. This...> She looked up to Ossanlin, with a stalk eye given to the Controllers nearby.
<This is an affront to the very existence of life. Let us not forget, even an uninhabited system would be a critical threat, if its star's gravity is subtracted. A small rocky planet slingshot out of orbit can collide with neighbouring systems, and gas giants can completely alter a smaller planet's orbit and render it uninhabitable. Entire asteroid belts and comet ranges, losing their Primary... the possibilities are endlessly horrific, and it would only take minutes, marginally slower than light, for the gravity absence to take effect. Whatever malice has existed between our people and the Yeerks, it can be set aside for this. Nobody, even and especially Andalites, should have the ability to destroy systems.>
She turned all her eyes to Ossanlin. <Sir. What do you propose we do?>
<<You have my cooperation. I will not promise to like them, but this threat transcends basic war. A weapon like this in anybody's hands will spell the end of keeping battle out of civilian territory. Sector Seven has no competitors in its arms race, so this will not be a simple standoff like nuclear missile crises in planetary history. They could hold the entire habitable galaxy hostage to their demands.>>
-
Keshin wanders in during the middle of Ossanlin's conversation warily. He understood that the War-Prince tacitly was inviting him in, but to what end? It was true that, being on the fringes, he might know slightly more about whatever clandestine operation Ossanlin was divulging. At least, from Ossanlin's perspective. The real truth of it was that Keshin stayed very far out of the Andalite edges of the war. He'd seen some strange activity on their part from time to time. Mysterious disappearances, operations in parts of the galaxy one wouldn't expect to see Andalites in. But honestly, that was really about it. Keshin slowly moves to stand in front of Ossanlin's odd desk, stroking the top of it idly. He had to admit the War-Prince had good taste in decoration.
<Nice hologram. Is that the ship we're on?>
<Pretty sure. We saw it from outside.>
Keshin frowns when listening to Ossanlin's strange, Illuminati-like explanation of Sector Seven. It was almost too crazy to be true. The idea that an entire people could not only overlook the intelligence agency but overlook crimes against Andalite law was huge. However, it did match what he knew about human intelligence agencies. And naturally, about the private world of the Vissers of the Yeerk Empire.
"So, this...Sector Seven..." states Keshin, looking at Ossanlin's front eyes but glancing at the table out of nervousness every so often. "...they are responsible for a lot of the Andalite world's more aggregious crimes against Yeerks and otherwise, but indirectly? Interesting. To even get all the information you have on them now..."
Keshin's look shifts to one of genuine interest, nearly mischievous. "...you'd have had to have been working against your own Electorate for a pretty long time. You're very different than the guy I took you for back in the Bar. If they are interested in us, that's..." Keshin squirms with that uncomfortable thought in his mind. His business depends upon the number of clients outweighing the power or number of his enemies. "...that is a big problem."
-
Ossanlin nods to Enorryma, speaking privately. <<Indeed, it is a blade at the Galaxy's throat. We have many enemies...>>
He pauses, darting a nearly imperceptible, but sharp look at Keshin in response to his astute observation...of course he would cut to that question...for such a secret entity, how could Ossanlin have access to all of this information? Well, he would answer the question...the answer had to come out, but not until the group has had a chance to have a bit of a discussion. He'd dropped one bomb already, maybe two or three in fact, that particular one could wait a few minutes.
He continues, still speaking privately to Enorryma. <<I'm glad to have you with me Enorryma. Your support means a great deal. I would ask for your continued support after this discussion is complete...I hope that I will have it.>> He leaves the sentence at that. She would know the reason for his plea soon. They all would.
-
Esarvit stiffens as he listens to Ossanlin explain Sector Seven. In a way, it's a relief--the People are not choosing this bloodshed of their own will. Surely they would speak with one accord, if only they could, not divided by the disparate factions...well. He doesn't let himself finish the thought. But if they are captive to a dubious elite, they cannot be faulted. Once order is restored, the rule of law will win out.
<Is it worth trying to expose this to the Andalite public? Surely they will not stand for this if they knew what was being done in their name,> Esarvit proposes. But he, too, knows that that is a risk; no matter how skillful their cloaking technology, he wouldn't put it past this Sector Seven to see through it. Combine that with their anti-fusion technology, and...well. No wonder Ossanlin was so hasty to escape. But how on the many stars were they going to overcome such opposition on their own? With the help of teetering biped voluntaries and their useless offspring? He glanced at the computer again. When your best-case scenario was all those rapid-fire Z-Space jumps, things were not promising.
-
Enorryma swiveled her stalk eyes toward Esarvit.
<There are two major problems with attempting to expose this to the homeworld. First, we would have to get there in the first place, or within transmissions range, and you can bet beyond doubt that Sector Seven will have taken measures against it. Second, it would just get tied up in bureaucracy. Think how many wars have been engaged without any formal declaration of war, and think of all the weapons we have stockpiled even in peacetime, without the direct vote of the people. During the months it would take just to get a bill put forward for No Confidence, Sector Seven can already have their weapon mobilized, and by then it will be too late. As much as I hate it, there is simply no way the people will be given an opportunity to make this choice for themselves, and any attempt on our part to push that forward will just slow down our efforts to stop it on this end.>
-
<We already act outside of the law,> Serid points out with a respectful nod towards Enorryma. <Surely we have enough creativity to not dismiss the idea so readily. A communique from a rogue group... an unknown source, or perhaps the known name of War Prince Ossanlin... it would carry weight, even if it was immediately denounced by the government. It would raise enough questions to start the conversation.>
He shifts his weight, turning a stalk eye on Keslin, regarding him curiously. His question is a good one, but he does not push for its answer yet.
Illim slides farther back against the dome wall, putting an arm around her shoulders and keeping quiet. He sits, eyes on the strangely colored grass below, until his knees start to stiffen. "Why don't you come check out my quarters with me? We can talk there," he finally speaks up, seeming to know she'll understand the message between the lines: let's talk somewhere private.
-
Claxter didn't know if Illim hadn't heard him properly, or was ignoring him. <Illim! Tess needs attention more than Terenia right now. I'm going to the bridge to locate Keslin.>
He ran towards the bridge, looking inside for Keslin. Unfortunately he wasn't there. Was he in that meeting Serid had been summoned to? Should he interrupt it? He really didn't know if Tess was currently going into labor, or if it was a false alarm. He decided to try it provately.
<<Keslin, this is Claxter. When you get done with that meeting, you should visit Tess. I believe she needs your support.>>
He started walking back to the done. He wanted to keep an eye on Terenia, as well as Efaen.
-
Keslin listens in silence, his eyebrows furrowed as he takes in the news. He cannot say that he is particularly surprised to learn about Sector Seven's existence. A group of power-hungry Andalites who used their power with impunity? The only surprising thing to Keslin is that such actions can only be blamed on a single group of Andalites.
He lets the Andalites talk, watching each of them in turn, making note of their contributions to the conversation. When he finally determines that he has something of worth to say, he clears his throat, standing a little straighter at the table, keeping his trembling fingers in his pockets.
"While being pursued is not the ideal situation, nor, I'm sure, was it anticipated, Ossanlin," he says, inclining his head slightly towards the Andalite, "I think the most important thing at this time is to determine our primary goals. For my part, I must say that outing Sector Seven to the Andalite people for their atrocities is not particularly high on my priority list. My brothers and cousins, and their hosts, are dead or stranded, and right now we need to find those that survived while avoiding recapture."
He licks his lips, intending to continue, but Claxter's thought-speak cuts through his mind and he straightens, expression blanching a little.
<<We have to go see if she's okay, Kes,>> Chris whispers urgently.
<<I know,>> Keslin says, distracted. <<I know, we will. Just...this is important.>>
<<More important than Tess?>>
Keslin winces, but doesn't say anything.
Terenia doesn't say anything, but she does nod and pull herself to her feet slowly, waiting for Illim to join her.
-
Myitt steps up to the table after Keslin speaks, eyeing the others in the room with dark, tired eyes.
"Point is, will this Sector Seven pull strings that end up alerting their operatives to our whereabouts? Or to our rendezvous points? The Bar, other places of refuge?" She looks around at each person again in turn. "We can't afford to have the people responsible for this atrocity looking to pick off the only threat of revenge they have."
<<An Andalite ****in' mafia,>> Tara notes dryly. <<Can't say it's a shock, but that they're behind this...it makes my blood boil.>>
<<Mine, too,>> Myitt murmurs, her attention focused on their surroundings.
<<That's redundant,>> Tara says, without much gusto.
-
Ossanlin listens to each point in turn before speaking up again. <Peace. Sector Seven is a threat, though no longer an immediate one. The last I knew, their progress on anti-fusion was barely strong enough to put out an Apix 2 Collider cascade. That doesn't mean that they haven't advanced significantly since then, but I believe it's a safe bet to say that we have some time before they can actually institute it as a fully-functional device. They didn't get a chance to see us...they don't know who we are...yet. Sending any type of communication, especially one naming Sector Seven and detailing development of anti-fusion technology would raise suspicions we cannot yet afford. And let us not forget that the Empire is just as much of a threat as ever. We have many enemies, there can be no doubting that.>
He pauses and nods to Keslin. <The plan remains to collect your missing kin. That should be our first priority. The fact is, I do not have enough personnel to keep the Tyrennian running. Oh, she'll fly for a good while yet, but without additional hands and additional minds, critical testing and upkeep will fall by the wayside. Problems will grow until there are finally too many to fix and something really major happens. The fact of the matter is...I...we...all need your help, and that of your survivors. I believe our next priority after retrieving your remaining people would be to find a suitable place for a base of operations, and for the development and construction of a facility that can perform maintenance and overhauls on the Tyrennian. We don't need a full crew compliment if we can dock every so often and run the necessary diagnostics and maintenance.> He nods to Enorryma at that...he would have to ask her later whether or not she agreed with his conclusions.
He glances over at Myitt, sensing the anger within her. Whether it belongs to Tara or Myitt or both he cannot say, but its presence is certain. <The Corvus Facility was and is a Sector Seven operation. One of their more-public operations to be sure, but still, their operation. I assumed they would be involved in the investigation of the raid. What I didn't foresee was their ability to somehow track our trajectory. There are no tracking devices aboard the Mirage...they must've been able to determine our Z-Space vector somehow. Regardless, I believe the Z-Strain Vortex did the trick. They'll be wanting to get rid of us one way or another, there's no helping that, but it would seem that we're safe from them for now. I can't guarantee they won't visit the bar. I'm surprised they haven't already. My only conclusion is that the bar will not allow them to find it. It seems to be able to sense intentions, and either allow or deny access. Sector Seven would commandeer the entire singularity if they found it... We'll need to face them eventually, but we have to rebuild our strength first...we can't take them on right now...not as we are.>
He pauses for a good long while before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He moves his gaze back to Keshin. <And now for the answer to your question. I have a lot of information regarding Sector Seven. The fact of the matter is...I am technically a member of Sector Seven. I assure you that my status is nothing more than a name...I have never been a loyal member of the entity. My heart and mind are my own, and I have never agreed with Sector Seven's ideals. I pretended to be a loyal member...it was quite a balancing act, but it paid dividends. The information I've gathered is invaluable. After they'd established me as the poster-face for the war, I began to work with the Rebellion.> He nods at Myitt again. <They didn't realize until too late that they'd never held my loyalty. The puppeteers had had their strings pulled for once. They did what they could by way of damage control...concealin g my actions with the Rebellion, often embellishing reports in my favor. They had given me great opportunities by making me the face of the military. They couldn't afford to discredit me or dispose of me...I'd become too important as a tool for control and morale. Needless to say, they supplied no more information to me after the truth of my loyalties was revealed...but I'd already gathered enough to be dangerous. I'm sure the news of my death stood very well with them.>
He takes another deep breath, falling silent, scanning the room with his main eyes, gauging reactions and waiting for response, whatever those responses might be.
-
"A double agent, a poster-child for the war, an Andalite War-Prince, and from what I've seen in the Bar many other things besides," states Keshin, an amused smile crossing over his face. "That's one heck of a record you have---doubtless the only loyalty you really have is to your crew and your code of honor. Though I suppose that includes the remaining rebellion members now. And you claim to be so different from us tureleks, Ossanlin. The only difference I see is in how many people you offer your trust to."
"But regardless..." states Keshin, giving Ossanlin a more serious look. "...after we get back on our feet, what is the group's plan anyway? We're a rag-tag bunch of survivors that, frankly, don't even seem like they like each other very much. Even the rebellion members seem to have differing motives."
-
In for a leaf, in with the trunk, Esarvit thinks to himself. No, Ossanlin isn't threatening exactly--at present--but it's hard to feel comfortable around someone who would seemingly infiltrate any top-secret group just to sell them out. Absent the formal laws and counterbalances, what's to stop him from doing the same thing to the rebellion?
He hears--MyittandTara, was it?--mention a bar, which rings a bell or two. Something he'd heard about all manner of species that skive off duty, flocking to some outlying establishment or another. Well, so much the better for them if the wrong people are vacating their duties, and isn't that a disgusting thought.
<<If you did not begin to work with the rebellion until you'd joined Sector Seven,>> he asks, <<why did you join the Sector to begin with?>> He turns his stalk eyes to Ossanlin slowly, trying to indicate that he's speaking privately instead of lambasting him in public, and expecting a similarly measured response.
-
Without his knowledge, Serid's own thoughts are not far from Esarvit's. True, Ossanlin has never done anything but help him--and especially when nearly all of the rest of his kin wouldn't--but if this war has taught him anything, it is to use great caution, even when you feel safe.
He clasps his hands in front of himself as he watches, remaining silent for now.
Illim turns to walk with Terenia, seeming satisfied that she is obeying. "I heard him, I heard him, but there's not a damned thing I can do about it," he mutters to himself, most likely referring to Claxter.
There isn't much Tess can do, either. Half-lying down, suspended in the alien bed, Tess's panting is punctuated by hisses of pain every few breaths. Her forehead is sweaty with the effort of trying to still her twisting insides. "Oh god," she breathes. "They can't come now. They--they can't. Not until--" But she is cut off by an involuntary moan.
-
Claxter walked back to Tess' room. <Hey. I'm sorry I can't really do much, and Chris and Keslin are in a meeting. If there's anything you know about giving birth that perhaps I can help with, I'd like to try. I know I'm the last person you need right now, but I'm the only one around.>
-
Ossanlin notes Esarvit's question...perhaps the answer is not so obvious after all. A dangerous cast comes to his eyes as Keshin compares them, though his tone remains calm and collected...perhaps a bit colder than usual. <Do not presume too much, bounty hunter. I do not kill for personal gain.>
He pauses before continuing, answering Esarvit's question publicly as others might be asking the same thing. <You may be wondering why I became a member of Sector Seven at all...it was a matter of choice. Sector Seven had had their eyes on me all through the Academy, or so they told me. They watch for any cadets that out-perform Academy standards. A good friend of mine, and a mentor all through the Academy and beyond had warned me about Sector Seven. He'd told me that, given my performance and ability to think beyond the propaganda, that they'd make contact with me eventually. He also told me what would likely happen if I denied their invitation, then covertly hinted that I could feign loyalty while keeping myself above the water, so to speak.>
<They made contact shortly after I was promoted and chosen to Captain the Tyrennian. Their contact used several figurative veils of secrecy and contacted me in private. She was very cordial and not unpleasant, but she never asked if I would like to join them, she merely told me where to be and when, and assumed I would attend. The choice was simple, I would either attend them and join, or I would be "kept safe" as my old mentor put it. Sector Seven doesn't like people like me to be in a position power unless I belong to them, so to speak. Had I rejected their invitation, I most likely would've experienced some sort of "accident" that would've kept me from being able to fulfill any role in the military.> He shakes his head. <I knew that I could do good...that I could truly fight for the People if I was given the chance. My career was still young then, and I was too vulnerable to ignore Sector Seven. What good could I do the People dead by some supposed freak accident? I could do more good...much more...by pretending to accept Sector Seven and their ways while keeping my mind clear of their filth and power-lust. That is why I have done what I have done. It had to be done. I fight for the People, truly. Not just the Andalite People, but all the free Peoples of the Galaxy. What good would crushing the Yeerk Empire do when Sector Seven would see the Andalites themselves become a controlling Empire thereafter?>
Ossanlin pauses, looking down at his desk a moment before looking up again. <I won't say I've never made mistakes or done wrong, because I have. But my thoughts, my hearts, have always belonged to the People and to ethical good. I fight for them, and I ask that you would all do the same.>
He returns his gaze to Keshin again before looking around the room. <Once we've stabilized our own situation...we fight. We fight for the good of all the Peoples of the Galaxy. We make a difference.> He returns his gaze to Keshin. <Think of it as a way of making up for everything you've done, Keshin.> He moves his gaze back to the whole office. <Think of the good we could accomplish. We have a powerful tool in the Tyrennian if we can keep it running. I know you have some brilliant minds...we do too. Think of all that we could accomplish together!> He shifts his gaze to Myitt and Keslin. <Think...what could your engineers come up with given the Tyrennian's resources? What could our minds develop together? Perhaps technologies beyond even that of Sector Seven! If we're able to gather enough resources, we might even be able to turn out new ships of our own! We could begin recruiting procedures again from the Empire...perhaps even the Andalites, given the right circumstances.>
Ossanlin pauses a moment, giving the thoughts some time to float around, before coming back down to reality. <The possibilities are mind-boggling, but only if we can clear this first set of hurtles. And, of course, you must reform your Council and decide what is best for your own people. I hope that that decision will involve the Tyrennian, but I would never presume your answer.> His tone is clear and sincere. He doesn't know what he'll do if the remaining rebels decide not to associate with the Tyrennian...but the choice is theirs.
He moves his gaze back to Keshin. <<And I don't suppose you would want to take up with a noble cause unless you stood to benefit...>> He keeps the speech private, hiding his distaste at saying what he's saying. <<...it would seem likely that if we find one of the rebellion's human medical practitioners and obtain a sample of your drug, that said practitioner would then be able to utilize the Tyrennian's resources to artificially fabricate a steady supply of it.>>
-
Terenia doesn't respond, her arms coming up to hug herself as she walks towards Illim's quarters.
Keslin lets Ossanlin's speech wash over him, though his thoughts -- and conversations -- are elsewhere.
<<We need to be with Tess,>> Chris insists, trying to push his own body away from the table. <<What if something is wrong?>>
<<Just a moment, Chris,>> Keslin hisses in response. <<I will break away as soon as I can, I promise. I can't leave Myitt here as the only person to represent our people.>>
<<What about Keshin?>>
<<I said our people. I did not mean Yeerks, you should know better than that. I meant the rebels. Keshin is certainly no rebel.>> He shoots the turelek a dark glance, then refocuses on Ossanlin.
"Save me the posturing, Ossanlin," he says, his concern for Tess and Chris' protests making him irritable. "I don't need a speech about honor and glory. I'm not in this fight for anything like that. I am here to do what is best for my human friend here, whether that is fighting with you Andalites, running on our own, or returning to the pool for the rest of my life."
He licks his lips, frowning. "I have no delusions about the might of the Andalite Military, but your involvement in Sector Seven is of no interest to me. Individual Andalite politics mean nothing to me. What is important is that you are here, now, rather than on the ship pursuing us. If that is in our best interest in the long run, then so be it."
He looks down at the table, taking a deep breath. "When we reconvene the Council we will decide if remaining with you is the best course of action for our people. For the time being, at least, we need you to locate our missing people. I am sure Myitt will agree that that is our top priority. Now..." He sends Ossanlin a small, curt smile, "I apologize to cut my involvement from this meeting short, but one of your lieutenants sent me a private message regarding my partner. I need to make sure she is well."
-
Enorryma's eyes widened. <Tess is in some distress? Do you require assistance-> she turned toward Ossanlin <-if I might be dismissed long enough to check on this situation?>
-
Ossanlin raises an eyebrow at Keslin. Dangerous...no loyalty but to himself. He'd thought that the rebels at least held together. There is something to be said for individuality and the ability to make decisions without guidance or orders, but complete self-service was dangerous.
He glances at Enorryma, nodding. <<Take him and offer what help you can, but be careful. This one is unpredictable.>> He indicates Keslin.
<Go to your mate. If you have any other questions, they can be addressed at a future time.> He gestures to the door opposite the desk. It leads out into a hallway that runs to the main concourse which runs to the dome. The quickest way to the quarters he'd given to Keslin and Tess. <If you will accept my Tactical Officer's assistance, she will be able to direct you along the quickest path.>
<<Send me a communication if there is a medical emergency, Enorryma. I cannot afford to leave this meeting yet. I would prefer you remain as well, but such are our needs. If you wish to speak with me later, let me know. Perhaps we can run together.>>
The door to the hallway slides open at his private command.
-
<<I will keep you briefed, Sir.>>
She walked toward the exit ahead of Chris. <This corridor will get us there fastest; the main corridor follows the ship's curvature and is longer by nearly half.>
-
Keshin listens to Ossanlin, noting the equally nasty barbs directed at him. It seems as though Ossanlin's loyalties are not to his crew or even to the rebels, but to his own honor. Keshin gives a notable roll of his eyes at the entire speech about what Ossanlin wants to do with the Tyrennian. <Get a load of this, Joanne. Now the blue idiot wants to save the world.>
<It could work, you know. Not righ' now, but with some time an' things. Besides, if he gives a free supply of th' good stuff, we're set for life.>
<.....you have a point. I just loathe being dependent on someone else again.>
<You're pretty damn dependent on me, Kess.>
She had him there. Keshin smirked slightly to himself at her wit, but turned back to Ossanlin more seriously. "Do you truly believe you can succeed? What you're hoping for isn't a simple undertaking----it will involve curing the deep-held prejudices and personal motives of multiple groups. You'll have to screen every new recruit. You at least have one thing going with us..." Keshin gives a slight glance toward the place where Keslin was once sitting. "...we have only one loyalty at the moment: whatever's best for us."
That was Keshin's subtly worded way of saying that if Ossanlin could provide him what he needed, he'd work for him. They simply weren't in a position to bargain now, or at all if Ossanlin made good on his word. They had had a...."solution..." for a while beforehand, but he was long gone. Keshin had to wonder where in the world he was, and if he even remembered them.
-
"We need a Space Port," Myitt says, waiting awhile for the conversation dies down to make her reply. "Someplace where this Sector Seven can't trace us, somewhere out of the way enough that even their Z-Space Vortex-surfing capabilities can't follow us, from one end of the galaxy to the other. Somewhere...safe."
Her shoulders sink. She doesn't show it outwardly, but her chest aches at the idea that Ossanlin is affiliated with the people who destroyed her friends and obliterated the only family she had.
<<Even if he isn't an active participant,>> she murmurs, her thoughts drifting in and out of Tara's consciousness. Her mouth twitches a little.
<<How many stupid ass things did you do, for the Empire, man?>> Tara replies quietly. <<He was young. Kind of had no choice. Let it go, for now.>>
Her attention snaps back toward the outside world when she hears her name. She blinks rapidly, clearing her throat. "We can turn our attention to advancing mutual Andalite-Yeerk technology once our people are safe, Ossanlin," she says softly, turning to glance worriedly at Keslin as he leaves.
Myitt's lip curls in disgust at Keshin's comment. "Excuse me, but as fascinating as it is to know that you're in this for yourself, I'm in this to help bring the people I care about out of hell and back. Are you going to work with us on this, or are you going to second-guess our best chance for survival? An alliance with these people?" She waves a hand at Ossanlin, around the room towards Enorryma's retreating form, keeping her voice low and cold.
-
Ossanlin favors Keshin with another cold glance...no loyalties but personal. Ossanlin deplores holding something like a life-saving drug over anyone's head, but it's the only way he can have any sort of certainty over the bounty-hunter.
His gaze returns to Myitt and taps a touch-panel, activating a small holo-display on his desk. <You're right, Myitt. Unfortunately I've not been able to turn over any suitable locations thus far...the only options I've found are places that no one can get to, including us. If your people have any ideas...well, let's just say I'm open to suggestions.>
-
Myitt pinches the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes tightly. "Daniel and I can amass a list of really out-of-the-way places," she murmurs, peering up at Ossanlin, eyes bloodshot. "At least it will decrease our chances of being rooted out. I need to speak with my people. We need to reconvene what's left of our Council, and in the meantime see who else we can find at our nearest rendezvous point. Once we know who we have, we can pool all of our resources together."
She glances back at the open door, wondering whether to follow Keslin; after all, Tess was her friend as well. These people were all she and Tara had.
-
Keshin glanced at the swarm of cold faces surrounding him. Trapped on a ship, surrounded by his enemies. People he at one point or another had tried to kill, or tried to kill the superior of. He had never breached his reasons for not joining the Peace Movement before now...but perhaps eventually it would be the time. Keshin moves his hand through Joanne's hair idly and tiredly, the weariness in his expression only exasperated by Joanne's pale appearance and countenance.
"I see trouble in high-minded ideals," states Keshin as evenly at he can, although his voice betrays his cagey demeanor. "We're a ship primarily made up of Ossanlin's loyalists and survivors of a tragedy that nearly destroyed the Peace Movement. Inviting people outside the rebellion at this point, or at any point, might be dangerous. I'm, as you said, a supposedly heartless turelek. I have seen what people will do for the wrong reasons. But yes, to succeed as an entity we must have a base to rendezvous with the others."
"As for my allegiances, I'm merely pointing out that there is no conflict," says Keshin with a shrug. "If I've never had a greater purpose or sworn a greater oath, than I can start over on the ship with no regrets."
-
Ossanlin nods. <I had assumed you'd have one rendezvous in the case of dire emergency...but you speak as if there are several. Regaining the rest of your people is our first priority, as I have said. I believe that remaining undetected is currently our best prospect.> He glances at Keshin. <We would not recruit or take any other action until we ourselves are stable.>
He pauses, giving everyone in the room one last glance. <I believe I've said what needs to be said. If there are no further questions, we will adjourn.>
-
Tess pants, wide-eyed, as she stares at Claxter. "Seriously? A meeting?" she groans, closing her eyes and clenching her teeth. "I need... god... I don't know what I need, but this--" She cuts herself off with a high-pitched whimper. "I.... probably shouldn't be wearing pants for this," she adds with a pained laugh.
Illim enters his new quarters, taking a moment to look around, then frowns. "Typical. Not a chair or a bed in sight," he complains, then looks back to Terenia with a helpless shrug. "I guess it's back to the floor. C'mon." He beckons her in, sinking onto the polished floor and watching her.
Serid remains silent, his main eyes on Ossanlin though his stalk eyes travel from person to person around the room. He had been surprised when Enorryma had left with Keslin, but he had not voiced his internal thought: Since when has she cared about these aliens and their affairs? Still, these are the least of his concerns, still not quite convinced that this is not some kind of elaborate Sector Seven trap, meant to weed out the loyal from the rebels. To reveal the most closely-held beliefs of Andalite soldiers.
-
As they passed hurriedly through the hallway, Enorryma palmed open hatch doors and sent a wide-band thought speech message to <Clear the $%&* way.> She kept her stalk-eyes trained behind her to make sure she didn't lose her following charges on the way.
<Tess, this is Norry. Your mate is with me, and we are on our way to you.>
She paused very briefly at one of the wall-inset storage units and pulled out a single-use field surgery kit. She didn't know what would be needed, but it had a sterile broadcloth that could work as a tarp, a blanket, a mat on the ground, or a drape for privacy or to protect exposed organs.
-
Claxter wasn't sure how to react about her talking about pants. Should he help her get them off? Was that just a casual remark, and not to be taken seriously? He jumped when he heard Enorryma's thought speech. <I think I'll let T.O. Enorryma and your friends do what they can. I'm sorry I can't help with anything specific. I will give you some privacy if you wish to remove your pants.>
He left the room, and wandered awkwardly across the dome.
-
Keslin follows Enorryma, taking her directions. The concern on his face is easy enough to read, and its origin is split between worry for Tess and wariness over Ossanlin.
"Enoryyma, correct?" Keslin says to the female Tactical Officer, hoping he is pronouncing her name correctly. "I wanted to thank you for assisting Tess earlier. She...her situation is precarious. Chris does not know much about human pregnancy, but from what Sam...our doctor back on base...has said, she could go into labor at any time." He licks his lips, the thought making him blanche a little. He has done well to hide his terror at the idea of bringing a human life into the world, but now that the reality of it is nearing he can't help but feel a little panicked. His worry for Tess overrides his fear, though, and he pushes forward, chewing his lip.
Terenia enters the room and obediently sinks to the floor. Her eyes are downcast, staring at her torn and dirtied jeans. She is silent for a long time before finally speaking, her voice cracking a little. "If they're gone," she says quietly, "I don't want to be here."
-
<That is right. Children are to be protected; any culture which includes them in war is not a culture worth defending. I do not know if a human woman would assist a pregnant Andalite or value the safety and health of our infants, but I like to hope that would be the case. I have a very minimal knowledge of human anatomy, but these supplies should be enough to prevent infection or excess of bleeding, which are likely the main dangers here. Your young are born furless, so we will also need to keep them warm.> She rounded a last turn.
<We are here.> She palmed open the room hatch and turned on one of the suspension fields, creating a working platform in the air to set down the supplies, immediately starting to unpack them. She cleared a path for Chris to get through to Tess.
-
When Keslin sees Tess, curled in pain, he briefly freezes, his own emotions overwhelming him. Chris clamors for control, and Keslin obeys, sliding back.
"Tess," Chris breathes, rushing to her side and kneeling beside her. For once, his hands are trembling without Keslin's control, as he brushes back the hair from her face. "Are you alright? What do you need?"
-
Myitt follows the small throng of people out of the meeting room, frowning as Keslin and Enorryma hurry off towards the temporary quarters.
She wanders in their direction at a much slower pace, concerned about Tess but also eager to determine exactly when they'll reach the first rendezvous point.
Tentatively, she approaches Claxter and clears her throat. "Hey, um. Claxter. Can you tell us when we're going to jump back into real space? I need to know how much time we'll have to coordinate ourselves." She offers a small smile. "Thanks. You know. For...helping." Her shoulders sink awkwardly.
-
<I don't know, but I can find out for you.> Claxter said. <You're welcome for helping. I don't regret doing what I did, and I believe that the Yeerks would be better off if they were led by people like you. I'm sorry for what Efaen did, and I really wish Corliss hadn't let Terenia convince her to come. I know it must be hard for you. Terenia is certainly taking it poorly. Perhaps you could say something to her. Some of your people care for her for reasons that currently elude me.>
-
Myitt blinks at the deluge of topics, shaking her head.
<<Andalites,>> she sighs, trying to focus outwardly.
"Um, yes. Well. We'll worry about Terenia. As for my brother..." She swallows back bile, stomach churning uncomfortably. "I hope he is still alive. We've lost too many people to worry about Efaen or Terenia or anyone else bickering between each other."
<<Care to take your own advice?>> Tara pipes up. <<You just about tore Keshin a-->>
<<I know. I'm a hypocrite, alright?>> Myitt snaps.
She winces, her attention wavering again before returning to Claxter's main eyes. "Look, just find the ETA for me, will you please?"
-
<On it.> Claxter said, once again making his way towards the bridge. He didn't mind, since it gave him something to do. He made his way to the proper station. <What's our time until we reenter z-Space, if you please?> He didn't expect it would be long, but he'd try to get some useful information to give Myitt an easier time.
-
Keshin and the War-Prince are the last two people to leave the meeting room, which is a bizarre situation if Keshin's ever seen one. Keshin glances at the War-Prince with a sideways look, as if now that he has the Andalite alone he has no idea what he's supposed to say.
"L...Look," states Keshin, his voice catching as he thinks about everything that Ossanlin has said. He didn't think one word of it was plausible to be honest. The ship was a total mess. "I'll work for you, do any job, if someone on this boat or someone we bring on can find a way to slow down the progression of the disaster awaiting us. You see..."
Keshin glances off. "....it's bad. Really bad. We only made it this long because of the efforts of a demented xenobiologist, and we have no idea where that guy is. Since we only had four vials on us that weren't on the ship, the kiss of Death is only going to be a few weeks from now. If you can't save us, well...well I guess that's fine. You can't compromise the safety of the other passengers for two people you can't stand. Yet....in my heart of hearts...."
Keshin gives Ossanlin a strange look. "...I'm thinking that what you have in mind is going to eventually require the services of someone with fewer moral scruples than you."
-
Ossanlin watches as the others filter out, closing down the holo-display. Every place he could think of, Sector 7 could eventually find. To truly accomplish the goals he wants to accomplish, he needs a steady base to overhaul the Tyrennian...one that can stand the test of time and won't have to be abandoned. Yeerks had shown to be remarkably capable of ad hoc modification and possibly improvement upon some Andalite technology...what kind of advancements could they accomplish with assistance and support from Andalites who could actually build the original technology from scratch? Such projected technological advancement should be used to bring the two races together...it couldn't fall into the wrong hands...and any Imperial or Andalite loyalist would count as the "wrong hands."
<Three weeks...not much time. Apparently there wasn't any medication with your personal effects? It's possible they removed it to study the compound and to try to ascertain its purpose.> He takes a deep breath and glances again at the insignia on the wall...not just a symbol of authority, but one of responsibility.
<We could place Joanne in...suspension, if you'd like. I can't promise we'll find a solution right away...it will take time to adjust our medical technology and pharmaceuticals to benefit humans. And I cannot guarantee that we will find any of the Rebellion's medical staff. The chances that this...person...you speak of having survived are...well, probably less than half. And that's optimistic. Suspension should extend Joanne's life as long as necessary...>
___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ________________
Atlin looks behind himself with his stalk eyes from the sensors console on the bridge. <I believe the current projection is approximately two days, Command-Warrior.>
-
Despite her obvious pain, Tess breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Chris and Keslin. "I think--" she pants, struggling, "I need a doctor this time." Her laugh is cut short by a wincing hiss. And then a curse. She fumbles with her pants, struggling to push them away as she leans back as well as she can in the suspended bed, having little to go off of beyond what Sam had told her and television shows she had watched as a child. Her dark eyes follow Enorryma and her actions, but they swiftly go back to Chris, betraying her worry and fright that the moment she had been glossing over in her thoughts, choosing to think instead about the children who would be with her afterwards, was here. And not how she expected.
Illim shakes his head, putting a hand on Terenia's back. "Don't say that," he says quietly. "You don't know we won't find him again, alright?"
Serid departs the War Prince's office, his main eyes tracking the floor as he mulls over these new and disturbing revelations. Still, there is little that can be done for it, now that he has chosen this path. They have certainly dug themselves in very, very deep.
He resumes his usual post at the edge of the bridge, standing straight-backed. Despite his posture, however, he is very much distracted by his thoughts.
-
<Thank you.> Claxter said, leaving once again. He trotted to the dome, and found Myitt. <It looks like it will be about two days. Is there anything else you need help with?>
-
Enorryma noticed Tess struggling with the bed. <Place a hand flat on the wall next to you and rotate or slide your palm slowly in the direction of tilt you want. I have a sterile surgical tarp here, suitable as a blanket or privacy drape.> She held the pale opaque blue cloth up where Tess could see.
<Would you like me to bring it over for you? I apologize that I am no doctor, but if you want me here, I will stay throughout the process and provide whatever basic aid I can. If nothing else, I am an extra set of hands, and I can limit blood loss and risk of infection.>
-
Keshin frowns, thinking on this. Suspension would put him without a body and Joanne...frozen. Both of them would be at the complete mercy of the War-Prince, although the fact that they were on the ship suggested the War-Prince's mercy was considerable. <...we need to consider it as an option.>
<But Kess, Jesus above! We don' know a goddamn thing about that technology, and we're Static Shock. I'd rather kick the bucket than be that vulnerable around clients and bounties.>
<.....I know, I know. But I would rather you didn't die. That would leave me alone with no host and no friends. Perhaps...>
Keshin stares at Ossanlin, ending any unnecessary fidgeting motions and standing strong. "We'll stay...we'll stay conscious on the ship until we are met at least at the first rendesvous point," he says. "We are not of one mind about whether we should suspend Joanne, and it is...." This is probably the first time he has said these words, or even acknowledged them. "...it is her body I am sitting in. We shall wait until the situation on the ship has settled, and until we are certain we do not have anyone to help us in the coming weeks.
"That might be stupid," says Keshin, showing a bit of his fear again. "But this...this is not a normal situation. Being on this ship."
-
Tess gives a tremulous laugh and, around her panting, she nods to Enorryma. "Honestly, I'd appreciate that. I like the idea of someone else--oh god--someone else who's female here with me." Tess squeezes her eyes shut, planting her hand on the wall as guided by the Andalite and grunting as she tries to recline more fully. Then she tilts her head up at Keslin and gives a wincing laugh. "No offense, loves."
-
<Of course. If you have any request or instruction, I stand ready to fulfill it as well as I can.> She carried the drape over to Tess and spread it across her abdomen and legs.
What now, I wonder?
-
Ossanlin nods to Keshin. <The decision is yours. The first rendezvous should be within the next two days.> He pauses a moment before stepping out from behind his desk, opening the opposite door from the one they had entered by...the office has three entry/exit points, odd as that might seem, but it's merely for War Princes' convenience. The door he opens leads through a small hall and into his personal quarters. He stops before striding through. Perhaps honestly would be best.
<I am confident that we will be able to adapt our pharmaceuticals to work with human physiology, but without a sample of your drug...> Ossanlin falls silent before turning his main eyes to regard the turuleks. <The prognosis is not beneficial.>
<I will do what I can to keep everyone alive, and that includes both of you. We have a poor past...an unpleasant one, and I feel no guilt in stating that that is true because of the actions that you chose to take. But I won't turn you out...I'd be no better than the Imperials or Sector Seven.> He takes a deep breath, before continuing. <I will not imprison you, not unless you do something that deserves imprisonment from here on forward. And you'll not be kept in your quarters, which would be little better. You will have mostly free reign of the ship, though there will be some restricted sections for you in particular. And you will be watched at all times. The security staff will try to be unobtrusive, but I'm sure someone of your...persuasion.. .will realize you're being followed.>
Ossanlin turns back toward the door to his quarters. <For now, you will be allowed access to the Dome and your personal quarters only until I can put together restriction lists for those who require them. Do not attempt to enter any area besides the Dome, your quarters, or the hallways and ramp-wells in between. The security staff will offer polite encouragement for you to refrain from leaving those areas, at least for the time being.> He glances back with his main eyes again. <I hope that we might be able to develop some level of trust with one another, but for now, this is what we have to work with. If you follow the others out that door and turn left in the main concourse, you will return to the Dome. From there, one of the security staff will be able to show you to your quarters should you decide to retire. If you'll excuse me...>
Ossanlin turns back and begins walking down the short hall to his large, two-level quarters. It would feel so much better to have his proper equipment on again...
-
Keshin stands in Ossanlin's personal office for a little while after the War-Prince leaves, occasionally glancing rather dully at the spinning model of the ship. What Ossanlin was offering, he had to admit, was generous by any standard. Considering they had both been badly injured in their last meeting over a client issue, and that Andalites weren't known for trusting people...he was a bit shocked that he wasn't completely trapped. <I suppose he does want to build trust---he's effectively extending a way to get it.>
<Huh. ....see, told you. Blue Idgit's alright. We can work with 'im. Don' like bein' limited, though. Why do we have to do what Boss Man says at all? We'll jus' slip by 'im like all the others. Check this place out.>
<We're being watched. They will not trust us as you'd hoped if we explore their ship without their permission. This is a very different kind of trust than the sort we arrange in a client situation. Understand?>
<Kay. I get that, actually. I'm jus' complainin'.>
Keshin rolled his eyes and began to follow Ossanlin's directions, turning left and heading in the direction of the Dome. He kept his eyes and ears peeled for any suggestions of security, but he was also looking for the rebels. It wasn't just Ossanlin Keshin needed to get to trust him, after all. He wondered how Myitt One-Nine-Five was getting along with so many friends dead.
-
Ossanlin breathes a little sigh of relief when Keshin says nothing further. He makes his way into his personal quarters. He longs for his repose-field...but that would have to wait. He'd been up for many hours...he'd probably be up for a few more at least.
He makes his way to the suspension locker where his proper tactical harness is floating in the shape of his body. He removes it from the field and dons it, the shoulder-strap settling into place satisfyingly. The familiar feel of his light, neutronium-weave swords a welcome weight. The swords are nearly as much a part of him as his own tail. Being without them had made him feel...partial...as if he wasn't quite all there. The warriors who'd moved the feed had also delivered Ossanlin's decoy weapon belt. He removes his ARC and places it in its proper holder on his harness, also picking up the holo-emitter and settling the piece over his right ear, the eye-piece automatically positioning itself optimally, near the outside corner of his right eye. He picks up the CC wrist panel and clasps it over his left wrist once again. He checks all of the pouches and containers on the tactical harness, making sure that they all contain their appropriate cargo before regarding himself in the viewer. He looks like himself again. He removes the heavy gold and silver War-Prince insignia from its storage display and attaches it to his weapons belt, slightly off-center. For the first time in months, he feels right.
Things had been decaying in the Electorate, and Sector Seven had been gaining more power. Ossanlin had felt...off...for some time, as if he'd been covered by a thin layer of grime that wouldn't come off no matter how much you washed. Finally, now...looking in the viewer in his customary uniform, finally free to follow his ideals, he feels good again. He feels right. Of course, it's a long and harrowing road ahead, but it's the right road, and that makes all the difference to Ossanlin.
He walks across the bottom level of his quarters to the Dome door and passes out into the lush facsimile of his Homeworld. He breathes deeply before galloping across the Dome toward the quarters he'd assigned to Tess and Keslin. Claxter had mentioned that something was happening with Tess...he hopes it isn't the birth of her young. The quarters had just barely been adapted to human habitation, there's no feasible means to provide for the needs of human young...there are barely means to provide for any humans at all.
-
"Uh...none taken," Chris says, blinking into control, looking a little nauseous at the idea of what might very well be taking place in this room. "Do you...can I help you?" He stays by her side, gently brushing her hair back behind her ears. "Just tell me what I can do, okay?"
Terenia shrugs. "And what are the odds of that?" she asks flatly. "Us finding them?"
-
Ossanlin nods to the members of his crew as he gallops past. He's galloping not because he's in any particular hurry, but to discharge energy and feel the simulated breeze riffling through his fur. In a very short time, he stands in front of the door to Tess and Keslin's quarters.
<Hello...I've heard there is an issue. I'm going to open the door.> He gives the warning before commanding the door to open and stepping inside. Tess appears rather distraught. Her face seems to be paler than before, but mottled with patches of red. What little he knows of human physiology says that these are signs of distress.
<You appear to be ill. Perhaps it would be best to move you to the medbay?> He glances at Enorryma questioningly. He assumes that she's already asked after the problem, whatever it is.
-
Keshin and Joanne wander toward and into the Dome, breathing in the fresh but strange air of the Andalite home world. Keshin groans---the air in this place might be problematic. It smells breathable, at least.They have to inject the first of their four rounds of serum by tomorrow or any problems they've been experiencing will get worse. It was always a stopgap measure---sooner or later, the two of them will become too damaged internally for the serum to do much at all.
<You figure Scientist Boy had any idea what to do, anyway? I mean from what I was hearin' it has to do with how energy goes into me to begin with. I should've been dead as a little kid. >
<You always were something of a miracle, Joanne.>
Keshin wanders through the soft grass of the Dome, checking to see if any of the rebels are inside. For all he knows, they might have all retired to their quarters. He needs to see Myitt One-Nine-Five. She's the only Yeerk here that he really knows, and thus can really trust.
-
Enorryma glanced back at Ossanlin. <<I am not sure she can be moved safely, at this stage. I take my queue from her, right now.>>
-
"I'm not a doctor," Tess pants, looking at the growing crowd with a bit of consternation. "I have no idea what's safe. I just know--" she gives a hissing intake, "that this really hurts." She clenches her eyes shut, gritting her teeth until the wave of intense pain subsides. "Painkiller would be good... if you have it," she murmurs to Enorryma, her dark eyes going worriedly to Keslin and Chris.
"Not terrible odds, really," Illim replies. "We set up three rendez-vous points in case anything like this happened. We very well may find him at one of them."
-
<Tess... the only anaesthetics we have available are neural dampeners designed for Andalite metabolisms. I fear anything we attempt here would either be ineffective or would be dangerous to you or your young. I am sorry, but I would not dare risk it.>
-
Tess lets out a bitter curse in response and squeezes her eyes shut again, giving a clenched-teeth groan. At some point, she has started sweating, and her hot pink and black hair sticks to her forehead in stringy locks. "Kes..." she whimpers as another round of contractions begins.
-
"Two days," Myitt repeats flatly. "Thanks. No, that's really all I needed." She sighs and turns away from the Andalite warrior abruptly, her distant gaze wandering over the expanse of the Dome.
She doesn't mean to lock eyes with Keshin and Joanne, barely noticing when she does, and she glances away again quickly.
<<We should see where Illim and Terenia have gone off to,>> she murmurs, crossing her arms.
<<And Tess,>> Tara adds. <<My god, she could be in real trouble, real soon.>>
She nods outwardly, heading in Joanne's direction but aiming for the direction Tess and Chris and Enorryma had gone off towards.
-
Claxter felt Myitt was indifferent towards him at best. He wasn't sure if he should try to make better friends with her or not. He went to his room for some quiet time. He shut the door, and pulled two rods out of a cabinet. There was nothing special about them, and all he used them for were exercise weights.
He was always impressed that Ossanlin could wield swords as well as fight with his tail. He had never given any thought to using his hands for attacking, and it certainly wasn't in any combat textbook. He had mentioned once that it would be useful if he could train too, though he hadn't really spoken of it since. Mostly because it seemed silly to him, but also because the only one who could really train him had captain duties. Captains were typically too busy to be anyone's personal trainer.. Still, he found some old rods, and in his room he would work his arms some with them. Try to mimic how Ossanlin swung them, and try to manage what grace he could. Sometimes he would mimic tail striking to help him get a good rhythm going.
So far it was more of a way to help kill time and burn energy than a serious regimen.
-
"I'm right here, Tess," Keslin says, slipping into control. His trembling hand holds hers, and he watches her helplessly, face pale. "It's alright," he murmurs. "I know it hurts, but think about afterwards. Think about...about our children." His throat catches a little and he brings her hand to his lips, kissing it. "Just let me know what I can do."
Terenia shrugs. "James and Reven are dead," she says dully. "They could have easily stayed behind, with them." She glances at Illim. "Esreth is dead."
Efaen, after spending many long minutes staring at her feet, stands and makes her way out of her quarters. She is restless, and everyone of import seems busy. Making her way to the Dome, she stretches her human legs, breathing the familiar-yet-alien air of the Andalite Homeworld. Finally, she comes to a stop and sends out a private thought-speak message.
<<Ossanlin,>> she calls, unsure if he is close enough to even receive the message. <<When you have a moment, I would like to speak with you. I'm in the Dome.>>
-
Ossanlin surveys the situation and ascertains with all the talk of "babies" that this must be human labor. He'd seen a female Andalite in labor once, but she had been in no pain due to precise implementation of medical practices. Many Andalites still choose the natural route, though with judicious application of pain-limiting techniques. Ossanlin knows that he, himself, was conceived and born by natural means. He has no doubt that his parents still indulge in tail-twining to this day.
He quickly accesses the ship's priority communication and contacts Varekil. The field medic had taken over the med-bay temporarily. <<Varekil, bring a mobile medic station to dome quarters immediately. We have a human female preparing to birth young.>>
The young Warrior is silent a moment before replying with a <<Yes, sir.>>
He directs a private thought to Enorryma. <<I have sent for Varekil to bring a mobile med-station...if it's not too much to ask of you, I'd like you to remain here. I understand that human females are uncomfortable with males seeing them nude. I will be of little help and I do not wish to be a source of excess stress. I do not know what we will be able to do if there is dystocia.>>
He nods to Tess and Keslin. <I have sent for our field medic, he is bringing a mobile medical station here. Enorryma will keep me abreast of the situation...please share any useful information that either of you might have with her and Varekil. I will return when you have stabilized, I do not wish to be a source of external stress.>
He falls silent as the door slides open and Varekil trots in pushing a hovering vital station. <<Sir, I do not know what you expect of me...I know nothing of human physiology.>>
<<I know that, Varekil. Ask questions of the humans and listen. You will do well.>>
The look on Varekil's face says otherwise, but he pushes the floating cart up next to Tess and begins interfacing the vitals computer with Tess's body as best he can.
At that point, Ossanlin hears Efaen calling from the Dome. He grimaces, but nods to Enorryma, Varekil, and the humans. <If you will all excuse me.>
He turns and egresses into the dome, shutting the door behind himself. He trots into the artificial meadow at a slow pace, the wall fading out behind him into a scene of grasslands. As he approaches Efaen, he sends her a private message. <<What is it, Warrior?>>
-
Enorryma hears Ossanlin's orders and generally agrees: the room would be too cramped, anyway, with this many adult Andalites in it.
<<Yes, Sir.>>
She was relieved to have Varekil here, if only because a professional medical presence would make the situation calmer in general.
-
"Just stay with me," Tess replies to Keslin and Chris through teeth clenched with pain, her forehead a mess of wrinkles.
She turns her dark eyes on Ossanlin and then squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the terrible, repetitive pain that keeps coming in ever faster waves. "This has to be a universal first," she tries for a laugh in response to Ossanlin's orders, but it comes out as almost a groan.
Illim sighs with a nod, looking down at his lap. "You don't know Corliss was with them," he insists quietly but the wind seems to have been taken from his sails.
-
Keshin notices Myitt's glance in their direction. Myitt...he needs to talk to Myitt. The situation is so maddening that even the most unfriendly friendly face would help. Even Myitt, after every time they had met. Keshin held up his arm as Myitt came towards him, hoping that the Yeerk would pay attention.
"Wait! Wait, just.....where are you going?" said Keshin awkwardly. "And can we help? Look, you're the only person we know on this entire boat other than the captain. And we tried to kill hi---okay, we tried to kill you too, but..."
This was already getting ridiculous. He wondered what in the world he was thinking. "...we need time to talk, and to make what amends are even possible. You're going to need every able, sane, skilled person you can get on your side, and we have no other option but to work with you."
-
"I'm not going anywhere," Keslin breathes. In truth, he's terrified to move. All thoughts of the rebellion and his role as leader are shoved aside in light of Tess' pain and he stays beside her, comforting her as best he can.
Terenia doesn't say anything to this. She just leans against Illim and sniffles, her shoulders slumping hopelessly.
Efaen pales a little at Ossanlin's approach, but she stands her ground, reaching up to tuck a curl back behind her ear. "We were followed, weren't we?" she says quietly, her eyes on him. "That's why we jumped twice?"
-
Ossanlin stops in front of Efaen and remains silent for a moment before nodding. <Yes, we were followed...we've lost them for now. We should have a few more days worth of peace at least.>
Ossanlin falls silent again as he regards Efaen's human morph. In truth, she presents a much graver danger than Joanne or Keshin. He'd been trying to come up with some sort of a solution to this little snarl...only one thing kept popping up in his mind. <I believe they managed to trace the Mirage's Z-Space trajectory somehow.>
He's fairly certain it hadn't been because of her...not yet at least. She would still be carrying the chip. The biochip that he'd implanted in her himself, before the rebels had erased her memory, and therein lay the gravest threat. It would only be a matter of time...at least a week more as propriety would demand, but probably not much longer than that. Sector Seven would find the records about Efaen's halcyon chip...and they would find its broadcast information. With that, they would be able to find Efaen anywhere within the Galaxy...and through her, the Tyrennian and everyone onboard. He arches an eyebrow at the morphed Andalite female, wondering if she, herself, had finally remembered about that.
-
"It wasn't because of me," Efaen confirms firmly. The tracking device has, apparently, crossed her mind. She chews on her bottom lip for a moment, thinking through what that might mean. She is not foolish enough to think that the Andalites pursuing them will not use her against the rebels if at all possible. Nor does she have any faith in the knowledge of the biochip remaining a secret.
"How long do I have before they will be able to track me?" she asks plainly. "And is there anything we can do to prevent it?"
-
Ossanlin nods more to himself than anything. Efaen might claim to hate her heritage now, but she clearly still held on to her Andalite intelligence. What a mess. He switches to private thought.
<<Sector Seven is not aware of your halcyon chip. Not yet. I managed to keep that information to myself. However, there is note of it within my personal records...records which, by custom, remain closed to all eyes for one standard month in honor of my death. An old custom, to be sure...supposedly waiting one month to investigate or alter a person's personal effects is a show of faith in a person's possible return. Sector Seven would break that custom if they thought to gain benefit through it, but they have no reason to believe that. And the People would be outraged with such a breach in the case of myself. So we should have at least one standard week left...perhaps a few days longer than that.>>
Ossanlin pauses, giving Efaen a serious look before continuing. <<The halcyon chip is meant to be fool-proof...but there is a possibility...there's no guarantee it will work, but it's the only way to have even the slightest chance at success...>> He pauses again, locking his main eyes with Efaen's. <<Death. Followed by surgical excision. And then attempted revival.>> He holds Efaen's gaze with his own. <<We would have to cease all of your vital functions. No heartbeats, no respiration, no blood-flow of any kind. The chip would have to be removed physically...and that is difficult, seeing that it matches your own tissues. If even a tiny piece remains after we revive you, there's a chance that it could use your own healing processes to regenerate. And, of course, revival isn't a stroll through the meadow. There's no guarantee there won't be cellular damage, especially neural damage, due to the lack of vitals.>> He shakes his head, dissatisfied with his own answer, but it's the only solution. <<There is no other choice, Efaen.>> He doesn't mention that the only individual on the ship with any advanced medical training has only received enough of said training to be a field-medic.
-
Efaen swallows, dropping her gaze. "I had presumed as much," she says blandly, fidgeting. She doesn't say anything else for a long moment, debating with herself internally. On the one hand, her survival instinct utterly resists the idea. Beyond the risks that are inherent there is the added fact that no one her is particularly fond of her. It would be easy for something to conveniently go wrong. Easy to pretend that they could not rouse her despite her best efforts.
On the other hand, she does want to help these people. The rebels, at the very least, who have lost so much and who, even if they seem to have forgotten it themselves, offered her a home.
She lets out a slow breath. <<There is another option,>> Efaen says, switching to private thought-speak herself. <<You could give me a ship, and I could set out on my own. Once they begin tracking me, it will pull them away from this ship. They know I was stationed at Corvus, it will not take much for them to connect my disappearance with you. If they turn their energies towards tracking me down, it may buy you time.>>
-
<<I'm sorry, Efaen, but that is not an option.>> He shakes his head. <<Don't you think you've been hung up by your tail enough times for one life? If you thought you were being treated poorly before on the Homeworld...you'll find out it was Earth and Sky compared to the way Sector Seven treats traitors. There wouldn't be a trial, Efaen...you wouldn't have any chance to defend yourself.>> Besides which, he adds silently to himself, she would give away the true identities of the facility's raiders.
<<I won't abandon anyone to that fate. Whether you want it or not, Efaen, you're still a Warrior. The Homeworld might consider you to be a traitor, Efaen, but you're still a Warrior, and you still have the opportunity to fight.>> He pauses before continuing. <<You're once again in a difficult situation. I'm responsible for a good part of that situation, but so are the Rebels. They were the ones who erased your memories...Sky, Efaen...they were the ones who still wanted you executed! Your old self falsified transmissions to me, and the Rebels saw fit not to inform me until the Barium incident occurred. Myitt called me, Efaen. She asked me to come and remove you. It had to be done either way, but I'm not the only one responsible for your return to the Homeworld...it was a unanimous decision between myself and the Rebels. That's not an excuse, it's merely the truth. I accept the responsibility for that...but regardless, removing you was the only option.>>
He risks placing a strong hand on Efaen's human shoulder, making full eye-contact with his main eyes. <<I'm sorry for the way the Homeworld treated you...it was unfair. But I hope you can see that we are different. None of us have a home to go back to now, Efaen. But we can make a home here together. A home without the animosities and pointless rage.>> He takes a deep breath before continuing. <<There are few enough of us as is...I can't let you go Efaen. I won't abandon you to Sector Seven. It is my duty, and my honor, to keep everyone on this ship alive...and I intend to do so. I intend to see us stronger...to see us fight for what's right, truly right, in this war.>>
<<Like it or not, Efaen...we're the same now. We're both Andalites, and we've both forsaken the Electorate. I promise...if you let us remove the chip, I swear on my honor as a Prince to do everything within my power to see you alive and well afterward.>> Ossanlin squeezes Efaen's shoulder gently before allowing his hand to drop, still maintaining eye contact and trying to convey his true sincerity in all of the words that he has spoken.
-
Efaen flinches at his touch, but she doesn't pull away. <<I do not intend on allowing anyone to capture me,>> she says firmly. <<The Andalites treat me as an outcast, the rebels want me dead...you claim to be different, and perhaps that is so, but I am tiring of living on the fringes, Ossanlin. I do not have the energy left within me to find a home here, among these people, or to try and make amends with those rebels who did befriend me before you took me away. I had hoped...but evidently I hoped for too much.>>
She sighs and does pull away, then, turning and walking a few paces away before coming to a stop, frustrated gaze on the grass that is an imitation of a world that is entirely alien to her. <<If you kill me and remove the chip, you may fail to revive me. These people that pursue you will still pursue you, though, and their path will remain unaltered. If I give them a reason to alter their course, I can self-destruct the ship before I am captured. It will lead them away from you. Either way, I will be dead.>>
Glancing over her shoulder she meets his main eyes with steady gray ones. <<Keeping me alive when it endangers everyone else here is not particularly dutiful or honorable, Captain. And if I must die, I would prefer it be on my own terms.>>
-
Ossanlin controls his anger without showing it, shaking his head. <<I've known you Efaen, both before and after your memory wipe. And while you've always been many things, you've never been a coward. The Efaen I knew wouldn't give up so easily. Do you really think that your suicide would benefit us? None of us wants to live on the fringes, but every person with us makes things a little bit easier for everyone.>>
<<So instead of helping us, you would take the easy route. Your "noble sacrifice" would serve no purpose. If we were still being pursued, they'd have confronted us by now. Besides which, there's no guarantee you would even be able to trigger the self-destruct sequence. Sector Seven has...ways...of dealing with things, Efaen. You try to disguise selfishness with selflessness. If you still believed in honor, I might be inclined to excuse your desire for death...but right now, Efaen, your talking of suicide generates little but contempt. Giving up before you try because you're scared to fight.>>
He trots forward. <<You claim that you were persecuted by our people because of your memory erasure...that you were kept out of the Academy because of it. I was inclined to believe you. But I'll tell you now, that if any Andalite displayed even an inkling of the selfishness and capitulation you're clinging to right now, they would be denied the Academy straight away. A soldier too scared to face hardship has no place in the Academy.>>
<<You don't believe I care for you. You don't believe I care about your well-being. I care for every Prince, Warrior, and Aristh I've ever commanded, Efaen. Part of my duty is to make tough decisions. I can't make everyone happy. Matters were beyond my hands before...they no longer are, so I've taken action. The situation has changed. We have a chance to help you, and you finally have a chance to find acceptance and camaraderie. The tail-fighters I have are worth too much to throw away, and every Warrior I have is worth much, much more. Don't presume or even pretend to know what's best for this crew.>> He shakes his head.
<<If you really want to be valiant and courageous, have the surgery. Live, learn, and face your fears instead of fleeing from them.>>
-
Efaen flinches back from Ossanlin's words, anger flashing across her own face. "You are making the same mistake every one of your people has," she says, switching to speak aloud. "You are treating me like an Andalite. I don't care for your ideas of honor and duty, Ossanlin. I cared for them once, and I twisted them into something evil. I was courageous once too, and innocent people died for it. I want to fight in this war, I do, but I do not trust myself to do so in a manner that will not just bring about more pain. Perhaps that makes me a coward. So be it."
Angrily, she turns on her heel and begins stalking away towards her quarters. This has resolved nothing, she frets to herself. <<If you think I am afraid of your surgery, you are wrong,>> Efaen adds in private thought-speak as she moves away from him. <<I don't fear death. I merely do not want to die having done nothing worthwhile with the second chance I have been given. The camaraderie and acceptance you speak of has no bearing on a dead person.>>
-
<<You are Andalite, Efaen. You will always be an Andalite, no matter what you do. Even if you become a nothlit, you will still be an Andalite...merely one who has pointlessly thrown away a very useful gift. You cannot hide from your own origin, Efaen. I don't know what the rebels told you or showed you after your memory wipe, but being an Andalite is not synonymous with being evil, or arrogant, or condescending, or power-hungry. Being an Andalite who can think for him or herself isn't easy...the Homeworld wants obedient followers, but I value free-thought, Efaen...move past the hatred of your former self...move past the hatred of what you are. Can you not see that hating your own race is no different from hating the Yeerks? Can't you see that you're making the same mistakes that she did? You label an entire race of beings with a few personality traits...that is exactly what she did to the Yeerk race. She became blinded by pointless hatred, and the same is happening to you. Are you so incapable of keeping an open mind?>>
He doesn't follow Efaen as she stalks off, but he does continue speaking. <<My ideals of duty are not wrapped up in my species identity, Efaen. My duty to my crew and the people aboard this ship are defined by being a moral and decent person, not by being an Andalite...I'm committed to my duty to them because it's right, Efaen. Honor and morality, Efaen...ethical goodness...these are driven by my desire to be a good and honest person. You can't force me into your black and white molds...I won't fit. Neither will anyone else aboard this ship, because every person is an individual, regardless of their species, race, or gender.>>
He shakes his head, speaking a bit more quietly, almost as if to himself though he still speaks in the private sending to Efaen. <<War is pain. Fighting is pain. We will cause pain. We will feel pain. But the pain we cause...the pain we feel...it will be so much less than that which would be caused by the Empire or Sector Seven. Stopping that pain...it's why we fight. Why we do what we do. None of us can afford to give up that fight.>>
-
Myitt lifts a hand as if to brush Keshin off. "I'm going to whatever serves as the medical wing on this ship," she says tersely, barely giving Keshin and Joanne a backwards glance. She does pause along the way, pausing by the makeshift quarters. "Do you know where it is? I saw my friends go down this corridor." She trails off, then sets off in the direction she'd last seen Keslin and Enorryma, not pausing for an answer.
-
Efaen does not respond, though her shoulders tighten as she continues to stride away, in the direction of her quarters.
-
Ossanlin shakes his head...apparently Efaen had picked up some unfortunate personality traits from Terenia. He takes a deep breath and turns back toward his own quarters, tiredness suddenly overcoming him. The basics had been taken care of...the ship could keep itself for a while. It had been a long day.
He enters his spacious quarters and doffs the equipment again. placing it in its alcove. He makes his way to the toiletries cube and takes care of his business along with a quick sonic shower. He trots up the ramp to the upper level of his quarters and settles into his sleeping cube, arming the field. He hovers up, supported almost weightlessly, and settles in to sleep. A soldier took any opportunity to grab sleep that he could, and Ossanlin intends to take full advantage of this one.
-
~Narration~
The Tyrennian cruises through the blank, uninterrupted whiteness of Z-Space, riding the calm waves automatically. The overnight skeleton crew watches, of course, ready to take an active role in piloting the ship if Z-Space becomes less than calm...but all things considered, the night is passing by without incident.
The insulation around each set of quarters dampens the grunts and screams that accompany a first aboard an Andalite vessel...a live human birth. The birth of alien offspring...happeni ng aboard a Dome Ship, it's only medical staff a field medic with no background in xenobiology. Those who can sleep, sleep. Those who cannot, do whatever they can to pass the time until standard morning...a new day, and the start of new lives for nearly everyone aboard the Tyrennian.
-
Ossanlin wakens, almost fully-alert right as he wakes up. Years of training. He's slept for about six standard hours...a luxury under the current circumstances. He silently berates himself a bit, but the operation had been long and stressful, and the multitude of morphing coupled with the injuries he'd sustained had taxed his body of precious resources.
He'd stayed up later than he'd wanted, and gotten up later than usual. He has enough time for a quick morning feeding, but probably wouldn't have enough time for his general morning routine with Enorryma, assuming she'd gotten to sleep at all. He hesitates in calling her...if she'd just gotten to sleep...well she deserves as much sleep as he'd gotten, and so do the rest of the Andalites that had come with him to the facility.
Ossanlin moves down the ramp to his lower quarters and makes use of the toiletries cube before moving to his equipment alcove and strapping on his harness and swords, once again settling the ARC holo-emitter over his right ear. He steps out into the dome...the air had been cycled to contain a crisp bite and cool morning dew. It smells fresher than usual, despite still using recycled air. The holograms project a glowing, rose-colored horizon on one side of the dome...the beginning of a sunrise. He trots out into the Dome and begins to canter across the meadow, breathing deeply. There were few others out at this time of the morning...most waited to feed until a bit later.
He finds himself missing Enorryma's company...the two had shared many runs in the morning, not to mention their strength-training regimens. Sometimes they conversed, and sometimes they didn't, but each generally enjoyed the other's company. Ossanlin wonders to himself how things might've been different if Aliciania hadn't stolen his hearts, and if Enorryma were five or ten years younger. Probably nothing...Enorryma is a good friend, but only a friend, and a professional colleague to boot.
Alic...where was she? How was she doing? Would he ever see her again? The odds are against a reunion, but Ossanlin finds himself hoping they might be together again some day...perhaps. Maybe even have a child. Ossanlin furrows his brow at that...he's never had time for a child, and he's never really entertained the idea of having one. And yet, he feels a deep tug...a pull to continue his family line. He shakes his head...idle thoughts bred painful results.
Ossanlin commands his ARC to interface with the Tyrennian and display Varekil's current location...he needs to find out if the Tyrennian is heavy a human infant.
-
Claxter had wanted to sleep. He probably should have taken earlier opportunities to take a power nap or two. He hadn't really expected to be kept up with nearby screaming, though. Birth without any sedatives was pretty loud. He had not gotten a very good sleep, and he exited his room looking a bit rough. His arms were sore from extra exercise, since he couldn't sleep. He steps out for breakfast, and notices Ossanlin. It took him a minute to realise he shouldn't let his superior see him looking less than a Warrior should, and walked behind a tree.
Chances were he'd already been spotted, though. Hard to hide from an Andalite, even when you're not half asleep.
-
Ever since the hours of grueling labor had ended, Tess has been able to do little but sleep. She has lost dangerous amount of blood in the process, and the lack of any sort of painkiller has left her almost numb from the experience. Still, ashen-faced, she sleeps heavily with a peaceful expression. She had given birth to two skinny, weak human boys.
They rested in what passed for a crib: an open-ended storage bin layered with what soft fabrics they could find. Each had a tuft of blond hair and tightly-closed eyes. One had been crying off and on, but the other hadn't made a peep yet.
And what Tess didn't realize in her sleep is that the quieter boy's chest had ceased moving some time in the early hours of the morning.
Illim has slept far more fitfully than Tess, rolling constantly in the strange suspension bed, fretting over Terenia, thinking about the dangers of trying to rendez-vous, wondering who else from their rebellion has survived, if anyone.
As for Serid, he has given up on sleep entirely, having already undergone his morning rituals. He trots through the dome, eating and keeping his ready stalk eyes searching for a sign of anyone else's presence, wondering how all the new crew members have fared over the course of their first night on board.
-
Enorryma had done everything she could for Tess, with limited knowledge and supplies, and a couple hours after everything seemed stabilized and settled down, she took her rest in an unoccupied cabin adjacent to the one where Tess was sleeping.
-
Joanne awoke from her slumber exhausted. Her chest ached and her limbs ached, but this was normal for the bounty hunter. Joanne coughed heavily, spit dropping from her mouth and onto the floor. Joanne's fingers curled and uncurled, as if testing whether she still had a body, scratching the mysterious steel ground. She couldn't figure out why she'd have fallen asleep on the floor. I mean there was a cot in the Bug fight----
...ah, right. Cell. Misery. More misery. Angry rebels. Andalite ship. Right. Yes, that's what happened. Her head was spinning.
<Kess? Are you still here?>
<You ask me that every day, and yes I'm still here. Where exactly do you think I could go?>
<Just...>
<Yes, I know. I know.>
Joanne slowly attempted to lift her body off the ground, pushing her strong arm up against the wall to steady herself. No spasms this morning. Okay, okay. Take a breather, you're sick. Always sick. Never ****ing ends. She had no idea what their plan was now. They'd be able to right themselves in a little while and get moving, but they were still without a ship and without money. Myitt clearly didn't care about them enough to make an alliance or trust them. In fact, no one did. And for once, for once in her life, that was terrifying.
-
Beside Tess, not on the suspension bed, but on the ground, one arm pillowing his head, the other reaching up above the force field for his partner, Chris sleeps, snoring lightly. Keslin had been unable to keep his host from falling into an exhausted unconsciousness, despite his most valiant efforts. In the end, Keslin had to admit that Chris more than deserved the break. Tess' labor had been one of the most emotionally exhausting events he had ever witnessed, and the sheer alieness of it still made his mind swim.
He avoided the more gruesome memories, but as Chris slept, Keslin returned to the final moments before Tess lost consciousness herself. To the two boys that she had brought into the world, that they had spent so many months preparing for. And somehow, in the light of all this tragedy, Keslin finds it in himself to feel happy.
Terenia has not left Illim and Myitt's quarters. She has not slept either. She is curled against one of the walls, staring at her knees. Sometimes she cries, sometimes she doesn't. She never sleeps, though, despite the exhaustion that makes her limbs heavy and her head foggy.
Efaen wakes early, sighing as she stretches her arms, back in Andalite form once more. Her night was restless, but not terribly so. She is still feeling a little miffed over her conversation with Ossanlin, but at the moment she recognizes that there is nothing she can do about it. Focus on the needs of now, she reminds herself. It is a mantra that got her through the first months after her memory wipe, filled with confusion, and her return to the Homeworld, full of accusations and disappointment.
Feeding. That was the first task. She needed to nourish her Andalite body so that she could abandon it and resume human form.
She steps out of her quarters, making her way down the hall and towards the Dome, her expression distant.
-
Myitt reluctantly drags herself out of bed, blinking tiredly in the semi-dark of the quarters she shares with Illim and Daniel. The tiny suspension bed was barely enough space for the two of them, but no worse than they had endured on the thin cots back home.
"When I left Tess, she was still in labor," Myitt croaks, rubbing the dust from her eyes. She yawns hugely, reaching for her jeans. "I thought for sure we'd never get to sleep." She notices Terenia for the first time, remembering hazily that her friend had been coaxed to spend the night with them. Of course, Terenia shouldn't be left alone; Myitt flushes, warmth creeping up her cheeks, as she realizes that Terenia has probably spent a sleepness night in the corner of their little room.
Niko lies awake in his quarters, fingers drumming his chest. He has been up half the night, his shirt sweaty from anxiety. Thinking of where Gene might be. Thinking about Yarin. Tess and her boys. Everyone they had lost, and everyone they had yet to account for. His eyes burn and his head swims as he tries to sit up.
"God," he sighs tiredly. "I hope Andalites know the meaning of coffee." He slowly, shakily climbs to his feet, wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing for some days now, and uses the recirculated water to wash his face and rinse his scuzzy-feeling teeth. He shuffles out into the main Dome, blinking at the beautiful, and alien, holographic sunrise.
Lanath tugs the sheets closer over Aya's shoulders, trying to will her body to rest. It only seems to be half working, however, and he squints her eyes open in the dark of their temporary quarters.
The Yeerk, of course, did not sleep; but he watches patiently as Aya's body rouses.
<<Are you awake, my friend?>> he asks unnecessarily, sensing the spark of groggy wakefulness. <<We must check on Tess and the others. I am eager to know how they are faring.>>
-
Ossanlin's ARC displays Varekil in his quarters. Ossanlin nods to himself as he notices a somewhat beleaguered-looking Claxter trot partway through the Dome. He notes Efaen making her way into the Dome as well...blessedly in Andalite form. At least she wasn't demanding the use of their limited supply of human fodder. He notes a human coming in to watch the sunrise as well...one of the males, and from what Ossanlin had gathered earlier, an engineer of sorts. He'd probably be interested in getting his hands into the Tyrennian's technology.
Ossanlin contacts Varekil. He's sorry to wake the medic up, but he needs the information. <<Varekil, how is the human female who birthed last night?>>
Varekil blinks a couple of times and then answers in a tired-sounding, but firm voice. <<When I left, she and the two children were alive and...well, from what I could determine, they all seemed well. The female had stopped bleeding, and both of the young were breathing. We fashioned a makeshift sleeping cube for them. I tried to tell the mother that she could safely hold them, or extend the suspension field of the sleeping cube to cradle them in safe positions, but she seemed rather delirious at the time and seemed not to trust the technology.>>
Ossanlin nods. <<Very well, Varekil. Thank you, you did well. I'll only wake you again if we experience a medical emergency, otherwise, take today to sleep and recuperate.>>
<<Thank you, sir.>>
Ossanlin breathes a sigh. He'd worried about the birthing process. Without knowledge of the human systems, and indeed without even a proper Andalite doctor, things could've gone very wrong. He continues to run around the meadow as the sun rises over some of the holographic trees, the overhead sky brightening, but still tinted pink instead of it's natural orange. He'd hoped that Enorryma might join him, but she's probably still sleeping, which is certainly more than understandable.
The Z-Space projections still put them a day out from the first rendezvous. Hopefully the human female's young would remain hail and healthy. A loss of life, even new life, would be damaging to everyone's morale. He would greet the two new life-forms if the mother allowed it...one of the responsibilities and privileges of being a Captain, but not until the mother and young had had time to recuperate from the ordeal. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to interact with one of the humans he didn't know.
Ossanlin gallops near to Niko and slows, pacing up beside the human, also watching the continuing sunrise. <Probably not what you're used to in a sunrise, but I assure you, it's twice as pretty on the Homeworld.> A brisk morning breeze blows across his face and ruffles his fur, invigorating him. <I've heard that the blue sky is pretty to watch in the mornings as well.> He glances over at Niko, lowering a many'fingered hand to the human. Something Myitt had taught him...grudgingly. Many humans who met for the first time clasped hands.
He speaks as he holds out the hand to Niko. <We haven't been properly introduced. War-Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel. And you're...Niko...right?> He eye-smiles as another light breeze brushes across his body, hand still outstretched in the human ritualistic greeting.
-
Claxter made his way to the stream to get a good drink. He wondered if he should try to get some sleep, now that the noise had stopped, or if he should wade in and let the cool water help him fully wake up. His body seemed to make up its own mind after the feeding and drinking, as he slipped into relaxing sleep.
-
Niko starts out of his sleepy daze as the Andalite War-Prince approaches. He remains wary at first, but his expression softens a little when Ossanlin extends a hand.
"Ossanlin, pleased to meet you finally. Niko Yorgiadis," he says, his voice as tired as his body feels, though he shakes Ossanlin's hand firmly. "It's beautiful, the sunrise. I haven't seen one in a very long time, alien or otherwise."
He smiles blandly, looking back out across the Dome as he withdraws his hand. "Kinda gives a man some hope."
-
Tess awakens slowly, as if surfacing from a languidly-moving stream. She opens her dark eyes, staring at the ceiling, mind blank a moment, before she whimpers with residual pain, the events of the long, difficult evening coming back all at once. Immediately, she turns her head to check on Chris and the infants. Unable to see them from where she lies, she tries to sit up, but her body will not let her, ravaged and sore. "Chris... Kes," she whispers, throat dry from all of the yelling.
Illim opens his eyes at the sound of Tara's voice and reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Yeah?" He looks tired, his eyes blinking slowly. His other hand fumbles for his pitiful glasses, now misshapen from their fiery escape from their prison. "Everyone... made it though, right?" he swallows.
Serid watches Niko, Claxter and Ossanlin emerge into the Dome. Clasping his hands lightly in front of himself, he ambles slowly towards the human and the War-Prince, his tail kept low to the ground.
-
Ossanlin returns the handshake with firmness. His arms don't share the same frail look as those of most Andalites. <The feeling is mutual, Niko.> He turns back to watching the sunrise, smiling. <That's the general idea. Andalites tend to be a tad claustrophobic as you probably knew. Being able to run around in this well-rendered facsimile...it's good for morale.> He turns his main eyes back to Niko. <But I should say this is a time for hope. Everyone on this ship has lost a great deal. Loved ones, friends, families, homes...but we have such a grand opportunity to work together. We can forge something new and individual...someth ing unique!>
<Humans, Andalites, Yeerks, Hork-Bajir...together. No fighting, no hatred. We can set an example, perhaps play a part in ending this ridiculous war.> Ossanlin falls silent...he'd been thinking aloud again. <Finding your friends comes first.> He smiles again. <Hope is important.>
He takes another deep breath of the freshened morning air. <So Niko...what are your interests? I seem to remember you being a technical-minded person.>
-
Myitt shrugs, leaning in to kiss Illim chastely. "I don't know," she sighs. "I ****ing don't know. I hope so, I can't handle losing anyone else."
She glances over at Terenia. "Hey, dear. Did you sleep at all?" She winces, Terenia's lethargy and depression more than apparent.
Niko nods glumly, watching the alien sky as Ossanlin speaks about hope. "I, um. I studied engineering in college. A million years ago. On base I helped with tech repair and mechanical engineering, some basic design stuff. I'm more of a theory guy than a builder, though." That seems to sadden him somehow, and he looks down, clearing his throat of an annoying lump of tears.
-
Ossanlin nods, falling silent. He must have some background in astrophysics too, or at least in stellar cartography since he'd helped narrow down the first rendezvous point. <I apologize if I've said something to upset you, I certainly didn't mean to cause pain. If you would prefer, we may watch the sunrise in silence. I would be interested to hear some of your theories at some point, though. I have a working knowledge of basic and quantum physics, and I scored well in the Academy...but I'll admit, they're not my specialty.>
-
"No, no, it's...it's okay, thanks, Ossanlin," Niko says quietly. "I'm not as good at the math as some of my Yeerk friends, but I've developed quite a few ideas over the years, with their help." He nods at the sunrise. "I'd be glad to help. If nothing else, I can bring what's left of the rebellion together, and we can theorize all we want."
-
<Well, Niko...I suppose you'll have to reform your Council and wait for their decision before undertaking anything, but if you should choose to help aboard the Tyrennian, you'll have many opportunities. Most Andalites underestimate humans, but you won't find that with us. I think our two races have much to learn from one another.>
The sky's intense pink color begins to mellow into the soft red-orange of the Homeworld's natural hue. <We need open minds and fresh eyes. Humans have an amazing capacity for advancement. To go from animal-drawn land transport to space capability in under two centuries...it's remarkable. Had the Yeerks not invaded your world, you might've reached feasible interplanetary travel within the decade. At that rate, you ran the possibility of reaching Z-Space within the next century. The Super-collider you built underground in the continent you call Europe is the archae-father of the very same technology we use to power our ships today in a very real way. Over-sized, energy-dependent, and crude it may be...still, it would've paved the way. At your rate of advancement, you might've reached matter-antimatter fusion within the century as well. It's truly remarkable.>
Ossanlin shakes his head, still watching the sky. <Sometimes I think our people have grown somewhat complacent...but even when we were advancing to our space-age...it took multiple centuries. Think what humanity could invent with access to the information and technology we've already developed. This ship...with Andalite, Yeerk, and human minds working together...we could technologically outstrip both the Empire and Sector Seven.> He nods. <We'll have to if we want to survive.>
He gently places a hand on Niko's shoulder, still watching the sky with his main eyes, trying to project a calming aura. <Many of your people are uncomfortable here, and I understand their feelings. But it means a lot to me to find an individual like you. You feel a lot more relaxed and a lot less wary than many of your compatriots. It gives me hope that this whole thing might just work.> He eyesmiles and glances down at Niko with his main eyes, finally breaking his gaze from the sky above. <Thank you for trusting me, even if it's only just a little. It means a great deal to me.>
-
"You broke us out of that hellhole," Niko says with a half-laugh, flinching only a little at Ossanlin's pat. "I think we have a lot to be grateful to you for. And yeah, we've put a lot of trust in your people. That's not easy for some of my friends, but we want to work together with you and your people."
He sighs. "I'm just as heartsick as my friends, but I think I can pick up the pieces a bit more quickly. I want to push forward with this effort, and if that means using math to kick the Empire's ass...or Sector Seven, whoever they are...then sure." He smiles mirthlessly, looking down at the blue-green grass. "Let's do it." He looks off toward the row of quarters. "Tess. Did she...is she alright? And the children?"
-
Ossanlin grunts as he realizes from the human's comment that he'd mentioned Sector Seven out loud, and shakes his head again. <Sector Seven is...complicated. If you want to know more, Myitt will be able to tell you, or I'll tell you myself once we retrieve your friends.> He removes his hand from the human's shoulder. He knows he shouldn't have mentioned Sector Seven aloud, but he feels better about it regardless. For a moment, he'd dropped his guard. Somehow this Niko seems to make Ossanlin feel more at ease himself.
<Tess...she is the one who birthed young this past night, right? I contacted Varekil, our medic, first thing this morning. He apparently retired to his quarters somewhere in the middle of the night. His report stated that she and her young appeared to be healthy and stable for well over a standard hour of observation before he retired. I'm certain they're tired from their ordeals, and it isn't my place to intrude. One of the parents will invite me if they so desire, and I'll greet the young then.> He pauses and glances in the direction of the quarters he'd temporarily given to Tess, Chris, and Keslin, before speaking again. <If you so desire, their assigned quarters are in that direction.> Ossanlin points straight at the appropriate door, though the hologram obscures the wall and doors from sight. <I am not familiar with human protocol in this situation...so I do not now if they will be expecting visitors.>
Ossanlin leaves the sentence hanging, effectively giving Niko an escape from Ossanlin's company, should it be desired, without being dismissive. Niko could go or stay as he wished, without worrying about causing offense.
-
Niko's dark eyebrows raise. "They're back in their quarters, already?" he asks, following Ossanlin's indication. "Oh...I should see them, I owe it to them. Um. Thanks, Ossanlin. I hope we can talk again soon."
He smiles a little, hesitating in his step. "I think my Yeerk friend, Yarin, would have liked you. And he didn't much care for Andalites. He did, however, know when he'd met a good person."
-
<Indeed...Tess was too unstable to move, so the quarters were used for birthing. To be absolutely honest, the sick-bay would've been only marginally better as we've not yet had time to adapt our machines and medications to human biology.>
He nods, smiling. <I hope so as well, and thank you...that sounds like high praise. I'm sorry he's not with us. But he's still a part of you, so he lives on through your mind.> He nods again and watches Niko's retreating form before trotting over to the simulated stream, dipping a hoof in to drink deeply.
-
Claxter woke up again, noticing his legs had been soaking in water. <That's just great.> He said, getting out to allow them to start drying. He noticed Ossanlin was there, and figured he might as well speak instead of pretending he was invisible.
<Good morning Prince Ossanlin. You look rested. I didn't get much sleep, but I'm in no position to complain. I didn't pass two things through a hole that was too small for them. I am mildly curious about what Human infants look like, and I'm sure we'll get to see them some time today.>
He absentmindedly rubbed his sore arms.
-
"Ngh?" Chris grunts, blinking blearily. His hand tightens around Tess' and he groans, pulling himself into a sitting position and looking around, confused. "What time is it?" he mutters.
<<You are impossible,>> Keslin murmurs, sliding into a much more control, Chris' expression immediately becoming more alert as the Yeerk shifts onto his knees. "Tess, how do you feel?" he whispers, eyes intense on her face. His gaze is only drawn away by the knowledge that the creatures the have created are also in the room, not far away. He raises Tess' hand to his lips and stands, going over to the makeshift cot and staring down at the infants tremulously.
The expression on his face can only be described as awe, and he reaches one shaking hand down to gently touch one of the sleeping boy's impossiby tiny hands. The child looks up at him, then makes a loud sound of protest that makes Keslin jump and retract his hand. Then he frowns, his gaze falling to the other child.
"Tess?" he whispers, his voice suddenly urgent. "Tess--"
Aya groans a little in her mind. <<I'm up, I'm up,>> Aya murmurs, surprised by how well she was able to sleep in the midst of all the tragedy and uncertainty. <<Tess. We need to check on Tess.>>
Terenia rolls onto her back, turning her head so that she can see Myitt in the bed with Illim. The sight of the four of them together, safe and in one another's arms, makes her throat close painfully, and she turns back over, lifting a shoulder to shrug in response to Myitt's question.
Efaen finishes feeding quickly, eager to resume human form. Once she is full she stops at the stream, drinking her fill. Her eyes roam the Dome, taking in the various occupants; some she recognizes and some she does not. She does not approach any of them, preferring her solitude.
-
Ossanlin nods as Claxter approaches. <And a pleasant morning to you, Command Warrior. I rested as much as could be allowed.> He notes Claxter's tired-looking eyes before continuing. <It's unfortunate, but understandable considering the stress we've all been through of late. Eventually you'll learn to put yourself to sleep. An indispensable skill for warriors...rest when you can, so that you can fight when you must...or so the old combatant's saying goes.>
He notes Claxter's soaked legs, but doesn't comment. <Natural birth seems to be a very taxing experience for nearly all organic species. And we may well see the young today, but only if their parents invite us. This is a time for parental bonding...I assume it is this way for humans as well. Once they feel that their exclusive bonding period has passed, they will invite those of whom they wish to greet the young.> Ossanlin shrugs. <I admit, I've not spoken to Tara directly upon the matter, so human ways may be different...but it seems a safe assumption. The parental bond is nearly a constant amongst most high-functioning, binary species.>
Ossanlin begins to stretch his arms and legs, bending his body in different poses, the beginning of his morning kata. He always stretches before performing the morning ritual, and then performs a quick dance of forms with his tail and katana. He generally saves the full training regimen until he's off-duty for the day. Enorryma would generally join him for both the morning ritual and the training regimen after-duty. He smiles to himself, thinking he might get her to train with hand-blades yet. She seems to be the only one who's showcased even the slightest bit of interest in his katana.
<Depending upon how this first rendezvous goes, Claxter, I'll have Prince-Commander Enorryma begin your instruction on the Tyrennian's helm...perhaps as soon as two days from now.> He glances at the younger male Andalite with his main eyes, still arching his upper body to the side in a stretch. <If you are too tired to carry out your regular duties, you may retire to your room once again for sleep...yesterday was especially trying.> He doesn't add that he can't afford to have Claxter fall asleep whilst on-duty. And besides, Claxter had been seriously wounded in the action...morphing to heal always seemed to take more energy than otherwise...and put that next to the fact that living for any amount of time with such egregious injuries taxed the body...well, it really took it out of a person. Ossanlin himself feels a deep fatigue, but he can't afford himself the luxury of further sleep. There are too many things for him to do.
-
Enorryma slowly woke, finding herself leaning slightly against the wall of the cabin she'd used for the night. She winced as she stretched and straightened her posture, finding half a dozen new aches lingering from yesterday, and a dry foul taste in her hooves, leftover from the stims she'd taken during the Z-Space hectic activity. She dispensed water in the room's small floor fountain, clearing the taste and doing the first segment of the religious morning ritual. As she meditated on this moment, she hoped that the humans and their young in the next room were doing well.
She next drew her sidearm, checked the battery and lens array, and finding everything in its proper order, holstered it. She flexed and snapped her tail through the air a couple times, keeping the movement limited enough that it wouldn't crack loudly and wake anybody who might still be asleep nearby.
Finally feeling she'd shaken off the worst of the bleariness, she exited the cabin and started toward the ship's dome, hoping to get a bit of eating done before the first crisis of the day. The way she figured it, if there was already an emergency in progress, somebody would have fetched her by now... which meant she had at least a little bit of time to get herself collected, before reporting to Ossanlin for duty.
-
Tess tries and fails again to sit up, blinking worriedly at Keslin and Chris. Her insides feel like jelly, and she dimly wonders if she'll ever feel quite normal again--after the grueling experience the previous evening had been.
"What is it?" she asks, voice more sluggish than she'd like. She cranes her neck, but it doesn't allow her to see over the edge of the makeshift crib. At his urgent tone, she shivers with a pang of fear. "Are the boys alright?"
Illim grunts as he sits up, putting his feet on the cold floor with some effort. "God, how is it that I feel about a decade older than yesterday?" he mutters, scrubbing his face with both hands. He looks between Terenia and Myitt, then murmurs, "Reckon I should try to find us some food? You know, beyond grass?"
Serid watches Niko come and go, followed by Claxter. Trusting that Ossanlin knows where to find him if needed, he makes his way quietly out of the Dome and towards the bridge where he plans to begin taking up his station for the day.
-
<I seem to have grown used to quiet when it is time to sleep. That will be something to work on.> Claxter said. He perked up a little when Ossanlin did some exercises, paying attention to how he moved his arms, so he might try the same thing later. He might have mentioned something about it, but he was too tired.
<I will retire to my room, sir, and try to get a few more minutes rest. I will be sure to be ready for helm training.> He said, and made his way back to his room. He saw that Efaen had made it out of her room, which was nice, though she was still insistant on using a morph instead of her own beautiful form. He would need to have some kind of plan if he was going to make progress with her.
-
"I don't know if I can eat anything," Myitt murmurs, clutching at her stomach. "Ugh. I want to check on Tess before I can stomach food."
Slowly she drags herself to her feet. "You think we'll ever get a change of clothes?" she asks dryly, chuckling. "Imagine me, asking that."
She reaches down to offer Terenia a hand. "Come on, man. Let's go get something to eat."
-
Keshin takes control as soon as Joanne regains composure, cracking her back and wandering out the door. There was really only one place he could go---the Dome. The alien, beautiful, strange miniature world of the Dome. Seeing wide-open fields of color and life was a pleasure that never failed to take even his breath away. Once they entered the dome, Keshin nearly gasped at the beauty of the ending Andalite sunset. Artificial or not, he couldn't help but sit down and watch in the grass.
<Gotta admit----it's prettier than back home.>
<I wouldn't say that.>
<Nah, I mean---there was grass here and there where I was from, but we humans didn' care so much to put it in everything.>
<The Andalites are different. They cannot live without access to grass, and to nature.>
<If they were human, they'd find some way to make grass an' even nature substitute.>
<.......I'll give you that one.>
Keshin watched the morning's events go on, Andalites, Yeerks and humans intermingling in this strange situation they'd blundered into. Such diversity was odd to watch----in his own time, he had only seen it among the Yeerks themselves. War-Prince Ossanlin was a troubling persona, different from most leaders he'd seen. His friendship seemed immortal but his mistrust equally so--it would take him some time to obtain anyone's trust. Yet Ossanlin allowed complete strangers, aliens even, to wander freely in his ship. A move that, in Keshin's experience, was foolhardy and would end in the commander's loss. The species Keshin knew could not even be kind among their own.
Keshin wandered through the grass. He would attempt to believe in Ossanlin's claims of brotherhood. Perhaps, if the Peace Movement had survived as long as it did, there was merit to them.
-
Chris stares down at the unmoving child, his throat tightening. "I don't--" He cuts off with a choking sound. "Medic. We need a medic. Right now." He gingerly lifts the child, and his brother begins to cry a loud, piercing wail. Chris swallows, looking between the two, at a loss. "Tess, he isn't breathing. Oh God, what do I do?" He places a finger against his tiny neck, feeling for a pulse, not knowing the first thing about infant care. Tears, never far these days, prick suddenly at his eyes.
"Not hungry," Terenia mumbles, but she takes Myitt's hand and lets her pull her to her feet. Once standing she sways a little, clearly exhausted. Catching her balance she pulls her hand away from Myitt, shoving it into her pocket and dropping her gaze to the ground, waiting to be told what to do.
Efaen finishes drinking and sighs, looking out at the faux sunrise with her four Andalite eyes. Move your stalk eyes, she reminds herself. It is something she is constantly forgetting, and despite the fact that her Andalite brain is designed to see in all four directions easily, it still makes her dizzy to look behind and in front at the same time.
Stepping back from the stream, she looks around, forcing herself to do so with her stalk eyes rather than her main eyes. As much as she dislikes her true form, she des recognize the practicality of being familiar with it. If she is caught unaware, she may not have time to morph, and her Andalite form was more deadly than her human form.
Nonetheless, that did not mean she had to stay for long. Once she is satisfied that she knows the whereabouts of everyone who is within the Dome she focuses on her human morph. The morph begins slowly, but quickly speeds up, her human body emerging out of her Andalite's almost seemlessly, with unpracticed and unrefined natural talent. It is easy to see why her original training was in morphing espionage. She has a true knack for the often unpleasant ability.
Once human, Efaen does not seem to know what to do with herself. Deciding against seeking Ossanlin out, and the inevitable question of her looming death, she sits in the grass, glad to have an excuse to watch the sunrise without being expected to look behind her.
-
Enorryma makes quick work of breakfast and the remainder of the morning ritual, avoiding interacting with anybody else in the dome by staying along its perimeter instead of near the open center area. She slept later than intended, upon synchronizing her internal clock with the ship's clock, so she wants to get to her post as soon as she can.
On her way out of the dome, she decides to take the hall that passes Tess' room, in order to see how the human mother had fared through the night.
She hears sounds of distress and rushes toward the room, picking up most of what is said, and sends out a thought-speak call for the nearest medical personnel, just as she reaches the threshold of the room and hastily palms open the privacy screen.
<The child- do you know how long he has been unmoving? Is he warm to touch still?> The improvised cradle, unlike the Andalite sleeping pods, would not artificially produce warmth. If the child was still warm, it would have to be his own body heat, and not the product of the technology. If he was still warm, on this chilly ship, then his stillness was recent and had not happened too long into the night to save him.
Enorryma started calculating weight ratios. Would Andalite stimulants even affect a human metabolism, if the child still lives, enough to resume arrested respiration and pulse? If so, an overdose was the greatest threat. If not, what other help could she offer?
-
Some time passes, and Claxter wakes up again. He takes a shower and gets cleaned up and ready for what duties need performing that day. The next time he steps out into the dome, he's looking somewhat better. He noticed Efaen in her Human form, looking across the dome, and figured maybe less talking and more just being in each other's company would help. He tried to remember his Human morph, and eventually started turning. Pale skin, brown hair, and a tight short sleeved shirt and shorts.
He walked over, slightly wobbly, and sat down nearby. He rubbed his bare feet on the grass, not getting as pleasant a feeling as he usually got, but still an interesting one.
"Good mmmorning Efaen." He said, attempting a Human smile.
-
Varekil's communicator wakes him from sleep. He glances at it...a medical distress-call from the TO. <<Yaolin...this is all I need...>>
He grabs his field-medic tools and heads straight out the door, galloping down the hallway and up the ramp into the Dome. He makes his way to the Dome-side entrance of the quarters in which the children had been birthed and opens the door, nodding to Enorryma. <Prince-Commander.> He trots forward briskly, the male human-controller holding one of the young, apparently immobile. He'd left the hovering medical computer in the room in case of emergency...and the alarm had not triggered...of course...in infant Andalites...especia lly undeveloped ones, it wasn't uncommon for one heart to stop for a time to rest while the other two took up the workload. One heart stopping wasn't an emergency in an Andalite. An eventual problem if it didn't start again, but not an emergency. One heart had stopped...but the young human only had the one, and that was very much a problem.
-
"What?" Tess whispers in sudden and deep horror in response to Keslin's words. "What? No, let me see him," she reaches out for the boy. His skin, still splotchy from the recent birth, is cold, and his heart is as unmoving as his chest. Tears prick at her own eyes and she shakes her head miserably, not even seeming to notice the Andalites descending upon the room. All of her attention is focused on the child who is so terribly, terribly still in Keslin's arms.
"Well, you ought to eat anyway," Illim urges Terenia as he follows them to the door, ordering it open. "You're not gonna do anyone any favors letting yourself get weak and puny. Yeah?" His smile is gentle.
-
Chris passes the baby to Tess wordlessly, even as the Andalites begin rushing in. He says nothing, his skin white as a sheet, entire body trembling. The other baby wails plaintively, but he cannot seem to shake himself out of his misery and dread enough to go and see to it.
"What?" he asks in response to Norry's question. "He...he's cold. He wasn't...I don't know, he was breathing when we went to sleep, but..." He swallows, trailing off, unable to continue.
Efaen jumps. Okay, maybe having eyes that look behind you has some uses, she reluctantly admits to herself, scrutinizing the man that is sitting beside her now.
"You aren't one of the rebels," she says, not recognizing him. "Who are you?"
Terenia shrugs, letting Illim and Mytt direct her.
-
"Claxter. I did mention I had a Human morph. Orphhh. Hmm. Mouth sounds are fun. I hope you slept well. I have had trouble spending time with you without getting into an argument. I will try to do less talking. Talking. Though making sounds is pretty fun."
-
Efaen looks surprised at this, her eyebrows furrowing. "Yes, you did mention you had a human morph," she says, reluctantly looking him up and down. "I didn't expect you to use it. Most Andalites seem fairly opposed to its limitations." She tilts her head a little bit, not entirely sure what to do with this Andalite warrior who continues to approach her.
"Ossanlin is probably going to kill me," she says abruptly, not entirely sure why she is telling him, except that maybe he will not be so eager to talk with someone who is essentially marked as dead. Or maybe you're just scared, she chides herself.
-
Claxter laughed. "Why would Prince Ossanlin kill you? That's ridiculous. I realize you don't trust us, but we are all in the same metaphorical ship. If we just work together instead of against each other, we'll all be better off."
"We invented morphing, so I see no problem with us using it from time to time. Sure Humans don't have stalk eyes or natural weapons. Weapons. Ponssss. Human bodies can still be fun. I mean, you obviously enjoy yours. We can enjoy these bodies together."
-
Niko's first inclination that something is wrong starts to dawn when Enorryma rushes past him towards Tess' room.
He picks up his pace, reaching the quarters, breathless. The room is too much of a rush of activity for him to step inside, but his heart hammers in his throat when he hears Chris mention something about 'not breathing'.
Niko leans in, feeling utterly helpless, his expression gaunt.
"Please, tell me what I can do?" he asks Enorryma tentatively, wincing at the sound of the wailing, and very much alive, second baby.
<<I suppose we should wake up,>> Lanath sighs, pulling Aya slowly to her feet and rubbing at her eyes. <<I am anxious to see what has happened with the children, and to see how Tess is faring.>>
In spite of his anxiety, he slowly tugs on Aya's boots, feeling as though they are moving through a fog.
Myitt puts an arm around Terenia's shoulders. "Food makes anyone feel better, right?" she offers quietly as they walk. "Hell, I'm so hungry I could probably gnaw on some Andalite grass right about now." Her smile fades a little in the wake of Terenia's depressed state.
-
Enorryma blinks at Niko's sudden appearance, then turns her stalk eyes back toward the cradle. <<Please verify that the other child is uninjured, and then find the Captain and inform him that it appears one of the young ones did not survive the night. If you encounter others of your group along the way, also let them know: it would be wiser that the news come from their own people, and not from and Andalite, I suspect.>>
Norry used the wall monitor to send Ossanlin a memo of her location.
-
Niko nods, apprehensive.
"It sounds like he's alright," he breathes, completely out of his element, unsure whether he should wait for Chris and Tess' approval. "I'll bring Ossanlin here, and tell him the...the news."
He doesn't pause to offer condolences, rushing from the room.
Yarin, he thinks, I wish you were here to help guide me through this.
-
Tess takes the tiny, blond child into her arms, tears leaking out of her eyes as she feels how cold and still he is. "Chris," she whispers, voice breaking. She squeezes her eyes shut as she holds the body close to her chest, crying openly now. It is clear she doesn't give a damn about who sees her--and nor is she even truly aware of who is and who isn't in the room with her, beyond her mate.
"I can't believe this," she whispers when she finally comes up for air, staring incredulously at Chris and Keslin through wet eyes. "He was... they were both fine. Oh god... how could this happen?"
Illim nods to Myitt. "Did Ossanlin tell you where the food for us would be?" he asks as he follows the two women. "Hell, I don't even know what there is to eat besides all that protein we brought on board yesterday."
-
Ossanlin's ARC gives him a warning that someone had sent him a message. He commands it to display in his holo-emitter. A thin, translucent blue film bathes Ossanlin's right eye as it projects the HUD hologram. The message seems to be from Enorryma, merely stating that she's still in quarters with Tess and Keslin. Ossanlin sighs and takes another quick drink from the stream, noting Claxter trying again with Efaen, but being in human form himself. Perhaps he'd eventually get through to her. No matter what has happened, she's an Andalite, and Ossanlin intends to make her see it.
He nods to himself before turning toward the quarters he'd assigned to the gravid female and her mates. His intention is merely to greet Enorryma as he assumes that she'll be joining him shortly. There's still a bit of time before the "day shift" is due to take over the bridge.
Varekil moves to examine the baby as the female clutches him closely, but he can see clearly how still the infant is. The records on the mobile medical scanner indicate that his heart had stopped more than an hour earlier. There's very little likelihood that the infant could still retain life.
<I am...sorry. The scanner is not adapted to be able to detect human neural activity but...the logs say that the heart...ceased...mo re than a standard hour ago...> Varekil pauses, unsure how to say anything without causing pain or offense. He's just a field medic, not used to having to deliver news to survivors...let alone humans. <There is little chance that neural...activity.. .can be reinstated.>
<I...well...the other infant appears healthy and stable...> His own words sound hollow, as both had appeared healthy and stable for over an hour the night before. Varekil gives Enorryma a helpless look, not knowing what to do.
-
"It has nothing to do with trust," Efaen says, reaching down and picking a blade of grass. She rolls it between her thumb and forefinger, inspecting it. "I am a liability. As long as I am alive, people here will die."
Chris is dumbfounded beside Tess, his eyes on the child, a tremor running through his body. His pale, freckled expression flushes, and he squeezes his eyes shut.
<<Too much. This is too damn much,>> he whispers to Keslin, covering his mouth with one hand, but unable to prevent the sob that rips free of his throat. He barely hears the Andalite medic as he tells them what they already know, trying to push back the words that impress themselves on his mind. By the time Varekil finishes speaking he is shaking violently with angry, helpless tears, not caring who sees the leader of the pirate rebellion broken.
It is finally the sharp, ceaseless squalling of the surviving child that snaps Chris out of it enough to move. He crosses the room, looking down at the tiny creature through eyes that are clouded with tears. As gently as he can, he reaches down and lifts the child, holding him to his chest, one hand supporting his bottom, the other his head.
<<Chris, you are shaking,>> Keslin says worriedly. He balks for a moment, then slides into control. The head-to-toe trembling of his host calms somewhat. His hands still shake, but the remnants of Keslin's withdrawal are more manageable than Chris' emotional breakdown.
Still crying, forcing his host's body to maintain some semblance of calm, Keslin crosses the room, back to Tess. He watches the baby as he moves, unable to help his fascination with the small being that he had some part in bringing into this world, however small. The child's crying quiets somewhat, and it blinks up at him.
"Tess," he says, his voice gravelly from tears, grief-stricken and a little awed." He glances over at her, still clinging to the dead child. "Tess, I think he needs you."
<<We should get food too,>> Aya murmurs. <<I'm starving. But Tess first, I agree.>> She hesitates, then adds, <<Lanath, are we going to be okay? These Andalites...you've worked with their kind before...do you trust them?>>
-
Claxter thought about what she might mean. It didn't seem like she was going to purposefully undermine their efforts. How else would she be a liability? Then it occured to him that the chip Ossanlin put in her could be tracked. He had forgotten about it until just now, and wondered if Ossanlin remembered. Was she told about the chip, or was she actually starting to remember her past?
"It's about the chip, isn't it? It was meant to help keep you safe, but I suppose now it would allow you to be tracked. I'm sure Prince Ossanlin will find a way through this. He would have known the risk before letting you aboard, and if he still feels the risk is worth the reward, he must have some way of neutralizing it."
He edged a bit closer to Efaen. "We're here for you. I'm here for you. This is about trust. Hope and trust are the main things we have to cling to right now."
-
Enorryma turns her stalk eyes to Varekil. <<Thank you for your prompt arrival and your efforts. If possible, find out from one of the other humans what the funereal treatment is for human infants, so that we can begin making appropriate arrangements when the parents are ready. Beyond that, you are dismissed to return to your post.>>
She looks back toward the cradle, her main eyes still on the broken little family. <<You did good work, Varekil. These beings just have very fragile young. I will reset the sleeping unit to give vital readouts suitable for a human.>>
She turns toward the cradle and starts adjusting the settings, beginning with installing an alarm for any major change to the single heartbeat.
-
<<I...I don't...I just...>> He falls silent, mastering himself, and turns toward Enorryma, bowing his head. <<Yes, Prince-Commander...thank you.>> He turns and trots through the door, clearly shaken. He begins seeking out humans in the Dome, and notices Claxter and Efaen not far away. He approaches them slowly, not wanting to come off as intimidating, clearly thinking that both are human controllers.
<Excuse me...I...um...I apologize for intruding but I need to know...Well, I am Warrior Varekil-Enkat-Furis. Are either of you familiar with specific human cultural practices?>
-
Claxter's sincerity surprises Efaen, and reluctantly she pulls her gaze away from the blade of grass to look at him directly.
"It isn't that simple," she says, deciding that perhaps she owes this Andalite, who is certainly trying, an explanation instead of a dismissal. "The tracking device only becomes inoperable if I die. As long as I'm alive, it's active."
She looks up at the arrival of an unknown Andalite, her expression immediately closing off again. "I know some human cultural practices," she says, eyeing him, speaking a little defensively. "Why?"
-
Varekil glances between Efaen and Claxter, and feels as if he's intruded more than he thought. Uncomfortable, he shuffles a hoof. <I...I am sorry, you are obviously engrossed in a conversation...I will seek others. Please forgive the intrusion...> He backs away, uncertain where else to go. He doesn't see any other humans in the Dome, so he makes his way toward the center, taking in a few nutrients along the way.
-
"It's all right, Varekil. Come back." Claxter said, taking a more cordial tone. <I'm afraid we're both Andalites, though Efaen has spent time with Humans. Is there a problem?>
The issue of how to get the tracking device out of Efaen was a heavy one, but he felt it may be best to resume after helping Varekil. Perhaps he would talk to Ossanlin about it. He certainly has little information about the device.
-
Varekil pauses in his stride, recognizing Claxter's thought-speech voice. He glances over at the female...Warrior Efaen. He approaches again, bowing his head to Claxter, acknowledging the other male's greater rank. <Command Warrior, I apologize for disturbing you.> He nods to Efaen. <Warrior Efaen, it is good to see you back aboard the Tyrennian.>
<I...I have been ordered by Prince-Commander Enorryma to inquire one of the humans about human...funereal... practices. Particularly those which might pertain to infants.> Varekil drops his main eyes to the grass, still feeling that the death of the human child had been his fault.
-
Claxter was stunned by the statement. <One of them didn't make it?> He said. Hopefully it was just one, and not both. Tess surely didn't deserve such a tragedy. Though even one loss that could have been prevented with proper medical attention was a tragedy. <That is depressing news. Justice will be brought against her captors for this.> He waited to see if Efaen knew anything about tending to the dead before trying to find someone else, but this hopefully wasn't something she knew too well.
-
Efaen's eyes widen slightly, but she takes the news in stride, nodding. She never knew Tess well, and has no particular feelings about her children, beyond the fact that it is, in the abstract, a tragedy. "Do not call me warrior," she says to Varekil, frowning as she thinks about what she knows of human customs. "Just Efaen is fine. All I know regarding human funerals is that...it is custom in many cultures to bury their dead. I have never seen the practice carried out, though, nor do I know any more details than that."
-
<I suppose a container would be used, and perhaps we could ask Prince Ossanlin if we may bury the child in the Dome. Or perhaps at the rendezvous point.> Claxter pointed towards the room where Myitt, Illim, and Terenia slept. <You may ask Myitt or Illim for further details. Their room is that way. I will talk to Prince Ossanlin and help this get taken care of more quickly. You'll want to put the body in a container soon, in any case.> He began demorphing.
-
Tess presses shaking lips against her still child's forehead as she cries, and she looks miserably up at Chris as she slowly allows the body to be taken from her. All she can do to acknowledge Varekil and Enorryma's words and actions is to give them a red-eyed glance and sniffle.
"Oh god, Chris... we didn't even have a chance to name him," she whispers, clearly distraught, returning her attention to her long-time partner. "He wasn't even... christened or anything. I mean, I don't know if I even believe in that, but--" She chokes on a sob and squeezes her eyes shut, teeth gritted together. Finally she manages to whisper, "Give me the other. Please." She holds similarly trembling arms out for him.
-
Efaen does not contribute further to the conversation, her knowledge of human burial services practically nonexistant. When she sees Claxter beginning to demorph she recoils a little, scooting on the grass so that there are a couple of feet between them, where she watches in fascination.
"You aren't very good at that, are you?" she asks as she watches the typically messy process that is morphing.
Keslin doesn't bother to correct Tess regarding who is in control. He passes her the child, willing his hands to be as still as possible, which only lessens their shaking slightly. As soon as Tess has a firm grip on the baby he pulls away, breathing a sigh of relief.
<<Keslin, I can't ****ing deal with this,>> Chris says, his internal voice pained. <<First James, now this. I...****. **** **** ****. What the hell are we going to do?>>
The Yeerk takes a steadying breath, wiping at the tears that are tracking down his host's cheeks. He kneels beside Tess' bed, gently brushing back her hair, his eyes on the surviving child. "He is beautiful," he murmurs to Tess, trying to pull her thoughts away from their loss.
<<What we have always done,>> he responds quietly to Chris. <<Persevere.>>
-
<It is not glamorous for most of us. For some reason it doesn't get much better with time either.> Claxter said. <Sorry I must leave right now, but I feel this is an important situation. We can speak later.> <<If you ever feel depressed over what we've talked about, you can always come and see me. Life threatening events don't have to be dealt with alone.>>
-
Niko slows his pace as heads down the currently empty hall, away from Tess' quarters, realizing he isn't quite sure where he is headed.
He emerges into the Dome, blinking in the brighter light, and peers across the expanse of grass.
Which one was Ossanlin? From this distance it was so hard to tell...
Oh, come on, he berates himself. Don't tell me you think they all look the same.
His heart does an anxious somersault when he recognizes someone he thinks might be the distinctive War-Prince, and he raises a hand, waving.
"Ossanlin?" he calls, waving more vigorously as he notes the crossed pattern of his shoulder holsters.
<<I wouldn't say I trust all Andalites,>> Lanath says dryly, brushing Aya's hair back into a slightly unkempt ponytail, squinting in the semi-dark. <<But they did save our lives. And Myitt...Myitt trusts some of them, undoubtedly. She must have good reason.>>
He winces, wishing he had some way to wash Aya's face, to feel some semblance of cleanliness again.
<<Perhaps we can find a stream in the Dome, if you would like?>> he asks quietly. <<Ah, if only we had a toothbrush. If only that were the greatest of our problems.>> He smiles outwardly, not unkindly.
"I have no idea where we can get anything but grass and protein around here," Myitt murmurs, leading them out the door. Her stomach growls loudly in protest. "But like I said, I'm about to eat a frigging tree. Bark ain't that bad, you know."
-
Keshin and Joanne's wanderings take them through the Dome, and rather briskly at that. It is in Joanne's nature to run---to feel even an alien wind through her hair and the ground ahead of and behind her. She had outrun Death many times, in many places. As long as they did not push her heart rate up too far, until they were certain of a further medicine supply, they could enjoy the beautiful view and a bit of exercise.
<After all this time I've finally made it back to a park. How long 'as it been, Kess?>
<This isn't a park.>
<Good enough for me.>
<Listen. Joanne. I know you're enjoying yourself, but sooner or later we're going to have to find food. Even though, well...from what I know this place is food for them.>
Keshin scanned the area, looking for anyone from the crew who might either know where food was or what the ship's current plan was. What he actually sees is....ah, he knows that Andalite. He's not sure why, but he's almost certain he's seen the youth (Though he seems a fair bit older than when Keshin knew him) near Ossanlin at the Galaxy's Edge Space Bar. He's nearby another Andalite and someone else. The entire group looks...serious. Somber. A cautious frown crosses over Keshin's face. The last thing they need is another catastrophe.
"Excuse me," he states, his expression calm. "What's...has something happened on the ship?"
-
<Good morning Keshin and Joanne. I'm afraid that one of the newborn infants didn't make it through the night after Tess gave birth. I believe we will be burying it soon, unless the parents say otherwise. Is all well with you? I noticed you running.> Claxter didn't see anyone chasing after them, so perhaps they were just getting exercise.
-
Ossanlin sees Niko running his way and stops to wait for the human. <Niko...a pleasure. Though it's been less than an hour since we last spoke.> He glances at the dome-side door to the quarters he'd assigned to Tess and Keslin. <Is something wrong?> He glances back at Niko. <You look distressed...>
Varekil bows his head again. <Thank you Command Warrior. Thank you Warri...Efaen. I shall attempt to find them.> He turns and heads in the direction Claxter had pointed, seeking the humans in question.
-
Claxter knew that showing respect to a superior officer was standard procedure, but it still felt a little strange watching people do it with him. Sure he had been promoted, but he still felt like the same Claxter. Maybe having that feeling would help keep him from abusing power, though, so it could be a good thing.
<I need to attend to something, Keshin, but you may follow me if you wish.>
He trotted over to Ossanlin, who was talking to Niko. <Excuse me, Prince Ossanlin, but I've been informed that one of the children Tess gave birth to has died. It will likely be buried, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind it being buried at the dome. Or if you would prefer somewhere else like the rendezvous point.>
-
Efaen remains where she is, watching the others go to contend with the dead child. She frowns a little at the way Claxter jumps up to help with the situation, wondering why he cares so much when there is a whole ship full of humans and Yeerks who will likely grieve over the events, and be quick to assist Tess and Chris.
Most likely, she thinks to herself, he just enjoys sticking his tail where it does not belong. Her own mental use of the Andalite phrase makes her frown a little as she watches Claxter. Well, she reasons with herself, I can't very well say he sticks his 'nose' where it doesn't belong. Andalite noses aren't very protrusive at all.
Satisfied with her rationale, she turns away, resuming her seat on the grass some distance from the Andalites, near the stream. She sits cross-legged, contemplating the alien biosphere that looks so real. She can almost forget that she is trapped in a tiny bubble, floating in space. Even if it were not a mirage, though, the slice of Andalite home is not particularly comforting. The only thing she can appreciate is the relative openness of it. No matter how much she denied her Andalite roots, she could never get comfortable with the underground tunnels of the rebel base, and even the wider hallways of the the Corvus facility had made her feel claustrophobic.
<<While we're at it, how about a hot shower,>> Aya suggests wistfully. <<Maybe a hot tub? My parents had a hot tub, you know. I only got to use it a few times, because they said I was too young to be around all those chemicals.>> She trails of, her distant memories of a childhood on Earth no more comforting than her more recent memories.
<<I need to learn as much as I can about the Andalites here,>> she tells Lanath. <<Keslin will be relying on my memory, at least at first. Do you think we can gain access to the personnel files?>> Her reluctance to help Keslin, her mistrust of the leader who has already shown a penchant for using her, is tempered somewhat by their desperate situation.
-
Breathless, Niko jogs up to Ossanlin. "Yes, well, it's Tess," he starts, pausing to regain his composure as a young Andalite--Claxter, was that his name?--trots up and explains the situation neatly, if a bit coldly.
"That's what I was going to try and tell you, Ossanlin," Niko says forlornly, wringing his hands. "They need you in Tess' quarters, as quickly as possible."
Aya's smile broadens as Lanath walks calmly along the curvature of the Dome's grassy expanse, hands in her pockets.
<<I will speak with Ossanlin and his lieutenants,>> he replies. <<If they truly trust us, and are trustworthy, perhaps they would not mind allowing us to get to know their personnel better through their files.>>
He sighs outwardly, gazing around the bright, simulated Andalite morning, taking a deep and relaxing breath.
<<A hot tub would make this scene exquisite, I have no doubt,>> he murmurs. <<But we have more practical matters to attend to. Since there isn't likely a toothbrush within a few lightyears of this ship, shall we see what Andalite freshwater tastes like?>>
Lanath paces across the springy, blue-green grass, crossing some distance to reach the stream.
-
Ossanlin watches Claxter approach with a stalk eye as Niko begins talking. He grimaces as Claxter explains the situation concisely. <As if we have not seen enough innocent deaths. This news is most unfortunate.> He glances at Claxter with his main eyes. <I believe that decision should be up to the parents whom have been deprived of one of their progeny. I will offer whatever resource I can afford for their 'proper' ceremonies, but I doubt that burial in the Tyrennian's Dome will be the option that they will choose. A specific burial site...well...I'll have to speak to Tara and Myitt regarding human practices. They should know better than nearly anyone else here, unless...>
He turns his main eyes back to Niko. <I am truly dismayed to hear of this, but Niko, would you be able to provide inclusive information regarding human death ceremonies? It does not have to be right now, but I understand that losing progeny is a terrible experience...I would remove as much burden from Tess and Chris as possible.>
He begins to move toward the quarters he'd assigned to Tess and Keslin more purposefully, but when he reaches the door, he stops, unsure of what to do. This would be a time for the parents to grieve, as was their right...but would humans prefer solitude with their own kind, or the compassionate presence of the Tyrennian's commanding officer?
He stands still, hovering with indecision, though outwardly he projects an air of calm assuredness. Such is simply natural for him anymore. Warriors worked better when they saw their commander calm and in control of a situation, even if he or she truly wasn't. Eventually he sends a private thought-speech to Enorryma, doing a quick check with his ARC to see that she is still inside the room. <<Enorryma, I am outside of the Dome-side door to these quarters. What is the situation?>>
-
<It's a delicate situation, to be sure. I wouldn't want to make the mistake of adding offense while trying to help. I told Varekil to get a container for the infant, and that he may gain information from Myitt or Illim. I suppose that's all I can do for now.> Claxter said, and watched Ossanlin leave. He thought perhaps things would be handled well enough without him, and Niko had even come to Ossanlin before him.
He went back to Keshin. <So Keshin, I hope you have had a better time last night?>
-
Tess sniffs, a useless action with the continuing flow of tears. "Yeah. He's beautiful," she agrees quietly, gently bringing the tiny boy closer and kissing his forehead, just above which a tuft of blond hair grows. "Looks just like his father." Then she gives a sad, watery smile, looking up at him. "His human father, anyway."
This seems to be all she can take of conversation for the moment, however, and she curls herself against the boy, crying into his soft hair. She is apparently oblivious to all other movement in, and just outside of, the room.
Illim smirks a little at Myitt and nods, his eyes struggling to track the movement of Andalites and humans alike in the dome through his ruined glasses. "I need some new specs. You know, one of these days," he sighs, squinting at a dark-haired form ahead. "Is that--?"
<<Efaen? I think so,>> Daniel responds tersely, <<but I'm not sure Terenia's in a place to... deal with her yet.>>
<<Yeah but that doesn't mean I'm not,>> he points out in return.
He pats the women on their upper arms. "Hey, I'm um... gonna peel off for a second, yeah? Let me know if you find some grub."
-
<<Sir! Thank you for coming. I do not know how much you have been told yet; one of Tess' offspring died in the night. Currently the parents are concentrating on each other and on their remaining infant. I have not yet spoken to them of human funerary practices; when Varekil confirmed the death, I sent him to ask other humans for that information, so that we can begin determining possible suitable arrangements. I did not feel it tactful at this time to speak to the bereaved about such things, but they may be prepared for it now.>>
She watches the mourning humans with her stalk eyes, her main eyes still on the cradle as she fiddles with assorted settings.
<<It appears that our infant sleeping unit failed to detect the stopping of the single human heart; none of us thought to calibrate the cardiac monitor for anything but Andalite hearts. I have been making modifications to the sleeping unit, and now it should be able to monitor human vital signs and to maintain appropriate warmth for a human infant. Other than this... my first concern is that Tess needs to eat. She lost considerable blood last night, but her body needs to be able to create nourishment for the surviving infant. The supplements we obtained- do they have a high caloric content? If not, we will need to figure out something soon. I believe she will also need dietary iron supplemented; human blood is bright red, which suggests iron as the oxygen-carrier. Perhaps we should ask Varekil to do a chemical analysis of some of the blood Tess lost last night, to verify this.>>
-
Ossanlin remains silent for a moment before speaking up again. <<I see...I am unsure of whether they would wish to be left to grieve, or would wish me to present my condolences. I'm afraid this is one part of human culture I did not learn about.>>
-
Keshin glances up at the Andalite he's following with a perplexed look. He has no idea why the young Andalite cares about how he's doing. Is he supposed to be honest? Tell the kid that he barely woke up this morning, felt sick to his stomach, that Joanne feels sick every morning? ....nah. On second thought---he could use a friend or two. This...young, blue alien is kind enough that Keshin can at the very least determine how he can help things along.
"I can't go very far with you," states Keshin, staring at the Andalite's front eyes dead on but looking almost guilty. "Your Captain has mandated that I don't stray far from my own quarters and the Dome, so I will eventually have to go back. But..."
Keshin states with a nod and a warmer expression. "Thank you, actually...for your concern as to how we have been getting on. Very few people are interested to know the condition of a person who is either the subject of ugly rumors or the person whom they've had terrible experiences with. Your own captain is among the latter group. I..."
Keshin shrugs, smiling. His posture seems looser. "...I've seen you in the Bar, but I never caught your name. You were always beside Ossanlin."
-
<My name is Claxter. I am aware that you attempted to kill Prince Ossanlin, but I'd like to believe you're smart enough to know when not to cause problems. You are not very popular, but I think you have positive qualities.>
<You look a bit unwell. I'm not sure if we'd have anything a Human can take to help with that. It's going to be a day or so before we find other Humans, but maybe Varekil can help when he has a little time.>
-
Keshin nods to Claxter's comment about Varekil. Do they really look that ill, even after pulling themselves together? Maybe they shouldn't wait until tomorrow to inject the serum.
"I'm...not sure that anyone can help with our situation, let alone an Andalite." says Keshin. "We have some kind of unique medical condition. It used to help us out, as you may have seen once, but it only gets worse. But..." Keshin bites his lip. "...better dead in Joanne than dead in any other way. That's what we promised."
<To the end.>
<To the end.>
"How did you come to work for the War-Prince anyway?" says Keshin, raising an eyebrow. "The way I remember it, the two of you just sort of fell in together. Was it made official?"
-
<That's quite noble of you. I suppose that's why you took jobs in the first place?> Claxter didn't think most Yeerks would rather die with their host than move on to another.
<I met prince Ossanlin at the bar, after an...incident. I transferred to him to avoid some embarrassment. He's been good to me ever since, and I've tried to be better than I used to be.>
<It's sad to have so much death around. Tess' child, and other's impending deaths on top of those already fallen. Look, I know we don't usually do this, and I doubt I have the authority to do so, but we have the technology to give Joanne a new body. Ignoring the option wouldn't mean it doesn't exist.>
-
Keshin nods. Claxter hit the nail right on the head. "We took jobs in order to pay for the experimental medication we needed to keep Joanne going. The thing is..." Keshin chuckles darkly. "...the medication wasn't even made to cure our condition. We use it to slow down or eliminate the side effects as they appear. As far as we know Joanne is the only living example---she should never have even made it this long. We're just now beginning to pay the price for our lack of concern."
Keshin thinks on what Claxter said, following the Andalite for as long as he can. When he hears Claxter's statement, his eyes widen. "Wait wait. You mean--- you mean a morph? So we'd become a clone of...of one of the rebels? That..."
Keshin takes in a deep breath. "....yes. Yes, that might work. It would save her life. If we gained permission from one of them, and from the War-Prince."
<Whoah whoah whoah. Just...ch....changi ng my whole freaking body?! What are you playing at, Kess?>
<It would work.>
<Yes I know it would ****in' work, but-->
<It would work.>
<Just...just shaddup. Give me time to think.>
-
<It would likely be best if you acquired multiple people, and became a mix. That way no one has to worry about some twin of theirs running around. I just...enough people have died already. Joanne it is your decision of course, but if you have any desire to live, it may be your one chance. I will not go behind Prince Ossanlin's back on this, but if he is willing, you may become a nothlit. Also you may be required to take up a different career in life. Become something other than a bounty hunter.>
-
"****, I only took this gig so I could keep on goin'," states Joanne, very nearly interrupting Keshin's train of thought. This was rather common behavior between them. They had grown so adept at loosening or regaining control of the mind that Keshin instinctively let go when Joanne wanted speech and vice versa. Oddly, Joanne's fingers were still curling and uncurling in Keshin's characteristic showing of nervous behavior. "Only thing that scares me 'bout all that is lookin' like someone else, bein' someone else. I don't know anythin' 'bout this fancy-shmancy morphin' **** you guys do. What if when I take some weird mix body, I don' act quite like me anymore?"
"But as to th' job...." Joanne rubs the back of her head. "Sorry, but I'm not good at much other than killin.' You can change my clothes and my name on a list, but I'm not gonna feel good behind a console if you know what I mean. I don' have to be a turelek, but I'm not gonna stand still. I'll leave it to the Prince."
-
<You won't feel any different, being another Human. You will still be you. I'm sure you could take a career as a soldier, but you would be fighting for a different cause. I'm sure your skill with a dracon, as well as anything else, will be valuable aboard the Tyrennian.>
-
After walking away from Myitt and Terenia, Illim and Daniel make their way to Efaen, stopping a few paces behind her so as not to startle her. "Hey," he murmurs. "Get any sleep?"
-
Efaen's shoulders stiffen slightly, but then she relaxes as she recognizes the voice as belonging to one of the few people she was on relatively decent terms with, when she left the rebellion.
"Illim," she says with a wary flicker of a smile. "No, not particularly. I have a lot on my mind. You?"
-
Claxter noticed out of a stalk eye that Illim had approached Efaen. He wasn't sure what that controller's deal was. He had been coddling Terenia the whole time, but he also seemed to be friends with Efaen. Claxter didn't think it was possible to befriends with such different people, especially ones that were enemies. he watched them as he continued talking to Keshin and Joanne. Watching Joanne with his main eyes, Derrel and efaen with a stalk eye, and continuing to scan the dome with the other stalk eye.
-
Illim nods, settling in beside her without asking for an invitation, though the smile he flashes begs askance in its own way. "Yeah, for sure. Well, it was good to sleep somewhere I knew I could actually see a familiar face or two when I woke up. Beats living in a windowless cell, even if the grass is blue," he pats the blades with something like affection. "But I can't say it was a comfortable night. Did you hear anything about how Tess fared?"
-
Efaen raises her gaze to Illim briefly. "One of the children did not survive the night," she says, softening the news with the slightest of sympathetic smiles. "That is all I know. The medic here came by asking about human ceremonies for the dead. I'm afraid I was not able to be particularly helpful."
The topic of conversation makes a strange thought flicker across her mind. If she were to die, if Ossanlin's medic were unable to revive her in the attempt to deactivate the tracker in her body, would they have a ceremony for her? If so, would it be human or Andalite? Or would they deem it not worth the effort to remember someone as steeped in controversy as herself? The thought is a depressing one, and she drops her gaze back to the grass, sighing a little as she rolls a blade between her fingertips.
-
Illim's lips part in surprise, and he lowers his eyes. "That's awful," he sighs, shaking his head. "I guess I can't say I'm shocked, though, given all she went through yesterday. And there isn't exactly a human doctor around." He looks back up at her. "At least those of us who are here are free, yeah? Are you feeling a little better today? I wasn't expecting us to cross paths again, Efaen." He reaches over to put a hand on her shoulder.
-
Enorryma quietly edged out of the room as soon as she was done adjusting the sensor settings on the infant sleeper unit.
<<Captain, I have finished my work here; where do you need me today? Are we still on schedule for our primary route?>>
-
Efaen's shoulders stiffen initially at his touch, but then she relaxes, shrugging a little. "I feel like ****," she says truthfully, giving him a small, friendly half smile as she uses the profanity he taught her. "But...I am glad to see you again. Even if it seems no one here trusts me. I do not blame them, I suppose, but I did not ask to be stationed on Corvus." She glances over her shoulder, in the direction Illim came from. "Myitt does not trust me," she murmurs. "It is as if my time on base, trying to make amends, never happened."
-
Ossanlin backs away from the door as Enorryma emerges. He nods to his TO. <<Enorryma. Thank you for staying with them through the night.>> He shakes his head, deciding to leave the humans to grieve. <<Perhaps it is best to give them their privacy for now. If, by chance, you hear that they are asking after my presence, please notify me immediately.>>
He turns to walk in the direction of the bridge. <<As far as I know, we are still on course. I would've been alerted had we run across anything unexpected.>> He turns his main eyes on Enorryma as he walks, expecting that she will walk along with him. <<Should you wish to accompany me in the dome, please do. If, however, you need to feed or retire to your quarters for rest, please give those needs priority over your duties for the time being. I know you have ways around your fatigue, but they don't hold a blade next to actual nutrients and true rest.>>
-
Tess sniffs as she cradles their one surviving child close, watching him wriggle his way into a more comfortable position in her arms. Finally, she looks up at Chris and Keslin and asks, her voice wavering, "What should we name him? I... you think I'd have given more thought to it after being nine months pregnant, but..." She gives her first, watery, unsure smile of the day. "I wasn't expecting to live to see this boy, much less to be here with you when he was born. I... I'm grateful for that, at least."
Illim gives a small smile of his own at her curse, his hand going back to his lap. "You know a little of what she's gone through?" he asks. "If you do, you'll understand. She's a paranoid person. It took her forever to trust me. Even after we were dating, she kept asking me questions about my intentions, loyalties. Don't take it too personally, yeah?" he shrugs.
-
Enorryma walks alongside Ossanlin. <<If we are headed toward the dome, then I can eat a bit more while we are there. As for sleep... I do not think my mind would let me rest again yet, if I tried. Perhaps later, as I come down from the tensions of last night, but for now I would just as soon do what I can of my standard duties and return to the proper routines of the ship.>>
She looked with her stalk eyes at the seamless walls of the ship's interior, finding the place more capacious than she had before. So much time spent in smaller cramped vessels left the dome ship seeming vast in comparison, with higher ceilings and broader halls, as well as better light and acoustics.
-
<<Very well, I'll be glad of the company.>>
He falls silent as they trot over the grass of the dome, stalk eyes wandering, taking in everything. Finally he speaks up again.
<<Norry, we're not on duty yet. I'm not talking to you as your Prince right now.>> He pauses a moment, still trotting alongside Enorryma. <<You know I treasure your council, your abilities at the TO console, your fighter wings, your backup in hostile situations...but I also treasure your friendship.>> He glances at Enorryma with his main eyes before looking around the expanse of the Dome again, breathing the partially-natural air deep into his lungs. <<I never had any siblings, unsurprisingly...bu t I've often considered you somewhat like an older sister. Of course, in combat situations and on-duty, none of that matters. All that matters then is that you are my TO, and I am your Prince. But you've seen more battles than I have...you have so much more experience and often, I think, wisdom.>>
He stops trotting and locks his main eyes on Enorryma. <<Right now, Norry...I need to know. The...revelations.. .that I shared with you and the others. Not as your Captain or as your Prince, but as a friend...would you still have me as such, knowing what you know now?>>
-
Norry stiffened but kept walking, tasting the grass as she spoke. <<Truthfully, I have not even thought about it. The situation with Tess has been more pressing. Whatever my preferences might be in another context, they do not matter here and now; our situation is precarious and leaves no room for delicate moral sensibilities.>>
She made eye contact with her stalk eyes. <<To phrase it another way, I have yet to meet a warrior return home with his soul untarnished . Even the very best of us, acting with the very best of morality and judgment, will still make errors for which we later cannot forgive ourselves. I do not have to like what you have done to respect you. Your actions do not have to sit well with me, for me to follow you and for you to be a good leader. Necessity demands that we get along well with one another, and I would be a hypocrite to judge you. If we survive all this and meet again in peacetime, then looking back on everything, my answer may be different. For now, you can depend on me to cover your six, as I have always striven to do.>>
She looked away and quickened her walking pace a bit, muscles aching to stretch and move.
<<You value my skills and use them well to serve what currently manifests as a benevolent cause. We have kept one another alive many times. As far as I am concerned, that makes us friends.>>
-
<<I...see. I can always trust you to be straightforward with me, Enorryma. Another quality I treasure within you.>> He begins to canter in order to catch up with Enorryma.
<<I apologize for putting you on the spot like that. I haven't been in as many battles, but still I learned long ago that wars are not won with a clean tail. I used to think that. I held to that idealism until the first time at which I was forced to be ruthless. It almost broke me.>> He pauses as he catches up with Enorryma and falls in next to her, matching her pace.
<<It is enough that you perform your duties as my TO admirably, but a large part of me desires not only the trust, but friendship of my entire crew...especially from yourself. No, it is not necessary...not entirely. But that will not stop me from endeavoring toward that end where and when I am able. With you, and others as well.>> He continues to match Enorryma's pace, staying a few feet off of her right flank, his muscles, hearts, and lungs enjoying the workout.
-
Keslin glances at the door when it opens, making note of Enorryma's departure, before turning his full attention back to Tess and the child. Her question brings an immediate lump back to his throat, but both he and Chris know the answer immediately.
"James," he chokes out, reaching a trembling finger to gently brush the infants cheek. As he blinks, fresh tears track their way down his cheeks, running into the short beard Chris has grown during his time in captivity.
Efaen lifts her own shoulders, mimicking Illim's shrug. "I take it personally only if it means that she will turn everyone against me. Prince Ossanlin has named her the leader here. Her opinion matters." She shakes her head. "Not that it means much, but if I have to die, I'd prefer it not to be at the hands of people I once considered friends."
-
Keshin and Joanne seemed deep in thought. <I will leave you two to consider your options. You're welcome to call me if you need something.>
He morphed Human again, and went back to Efaen. "I'm back." He said to Efaen with a smile. "Good moooorning Illim and Daniel. I am Claxter, and this is my humananan morph."
-
Keshin and Joanne were deep in thought, not the least because an Andalite they barely knew had provided them with an option they hadn't even thought of. It bothered Keshin that they had lived for this long and it had never even occurred to them that they could escape using the Escafil device. Keshin kneeled upon the grass of the Dome, inches in front of the exit. Prince Ossanlin's ban was more troubling than he expected.
<Kess, it's not like they ever gave us the option before.>
<We don't even know if Ossanlin will give us the option, or any of the rebels. We're relying on the opinion of a single warrior.>
<Yeah, but we should at least ask Bluebutt when he comes by.>
<....>
It was about time to obtain food. Keshin's stomach grumbled loudly. Ossanlin hadn't exactly given him permission to access the cafeteria of all places. Keshin began to wander the Dome, looking for someone to ask.
-
"Oh... yes of course," Tess whispers, bringing up a hand to wipe at her eyes, then lowers it again to cradle her newly-named child. She gives a shuddering sigh. "Oh Chris... Kes..." She beckons to him, wanting him to be closer. "What are we going to do here? Everything has just... fallen apart."
"Who said anything about dying?" Illim blinks at Efaen, then turns his head up at the new voice. He stares levelly at Claxter a moment before giving a weak smile, offering his right hand from his sitting position on the ground. "Hey. Um... thanks for, you know, rescuing us yesterday. How's this whole having-humans-on-the-ship thing working out for ya?"
-
Claxter shook Daniel's hand. "We have been trying to be as accommodating as possible. It's certainly a new thing to break up the mundane routine. I'm very sorry about Tess. If an opportunity arises, I will make sure the ones who took her regret their decision. I hope that you and Myitt are doing well this morning."
-
Illim blinks at his threat aimed at their captors. "Well, maybe we should just chastise them for not kidnapping one of our doctors with her," he murmurs, rolling his eyes a little. "Look, as hospitable and accommodating as you all are and have been, it would have been better for all of us, I'm sure, if we hadn't been attacked in the first place."
-
"I agree to that. Not all of our people realize that you are better than the Empire." Claxter said. Exactly how much better was arguable, he thought, glancing at Efaen and thinking of Terenia. "The Andalites are not unanimous in its decisions, any more than Yeerks are."
"It is good that you are friends with Efaen. She needs help keeping her spirits up. I am not sure if I thanked you for it yet, but I really appreciate you helping her get aboard the ship during the rescue. She means a lot to me."
-
"I don't know," Keslin says, moving closer to Tess, reaching up to gently touch the child, though he pulls away quickly, nervously. "We'll think of something, though. We need to find the other survivors. There have to be some." He smiles faintly at her. "I guess this means I don't get that vacation I was hoping for."
Efaen is silent during the initial exchange, although her shoulders stiffen a little when Claxter mentions that she means a lot to him. "It is rude to talk about someone as if they are not within hearing range," she says flatly, raising her eyebrows.
-
"I'm not excluding you, Efaen. I'm just conversing with Illim and Daniel." Claxter said with a smile. "What would you say to doing something today to take your mind off things?" His initial thought was maybe a round of drift ball, but he thought asking her to play an Andalite game may put her off. He wasn't sure what kind of things Humans liked to do, though. "I just need some ideas, and we could make it happen."
-
"People are dead," Efaen responds flatly. "And more people are going to die, myself included. I should be preparing for the worst, not distracting myself from it." She tilts her head a little. "Shouldn't a warrior such as yourself, on a ship that is without a significant number of its crew, have far more pressing matters to attend to anyhow?"
-
"I haven't been called to begin my shift yet. If you want to gather information regarding the surgery, we can look into that. You shouldn't really think of it as you dying. It's just a complicated surgery attempt that carries a large risk, but is possible to live through. We can find out who is going to perfom the procedure, and research any means of raising the success chance. Get up, and let's get the day started productively."
-
Illim raises his eyebrows, looking rather sharply at Efaen. "What's all this?" he asks. "You sound certain you're dying. Not sure I've ever expected that level of pessimism from you, yeah?" He gives an encouraging smile, although his forehead is wrinkled in concern.
"Unless your idea of vacation is a Dome Ship... I guess not," Tess sighs and wipes a few residual tears, holding her child--James--close. Her eyes fall on the second child back in the makeshift crib, and she shakes her head. "We... we should name him too. It's not right to bury him without a name. We... we loved him just as much." A few tears roll down her cheeks at her words, and she squeezes her eyes tight shut. "Oh Chris..." Her voice breaks.
-
Claxter hadn't given Illim the details about why Efaen felt she would die, and wasn't sure if she would be ok with him spilling everything. Especially since she already mentioned she didn't like him talking about her when she was right there. Not that Illim was asking him about it anyway. Hopefully she wouldn't be angry about what he already said in front of Illim and Daniel.
-
Keslin slips out of control, and Chris immediately slides onto the force field bed, ignoring the strange sensation of floating in thin air. He sits beside Tess, gathering her into an awkward sideways hug, careful not to jostle James too much. "Of course he needs a name," he murmurs of the other child. "And a proper ceremony." He kisses the top of Tess' head, working hard to keep himself from breaking down again.
<<Chris...>> Keslin murmurs, regretfully.
He sighs outwardly. <<I know.>>
"Tess, Kes needs to talk with Ossanlin, so that we can figure out how...how to proceed," he says with a shaky smile. "We're still in a dangerous situation here, and I...Kes and I..." He trails off, feeling like complete dirt for having to turn back to his role as a leader during a time like this. He has never in his life wanted to lead less. Unfortunately, his people have never needed him more.
<<We will not be gone long,>> Keslin promises.
Efaen shrugs her shoulders, dropping her attention back to the grass. "It isn't pessimism, it's realism. In order to deactivate the tracker that Ossanlin inserted in my bloodstream I have to die. If I can be tracked, that puts this entire ship in danger."
She says it simply, succinctly, without any evident emotion. The corners of her eyes tighten imperceptibly, though, and her lips thin. "Ossanlin says he can revive me," she adds, a little more quietly. It is clear from her tone that she does not believe his promise.
-
"That's the hope you have to cling to, then. You're a good person, and you deserve some happiness. One bad thing doesn't make you a bad person, as long as you don't do it again. Feeling regretful and striving to do better is the mark of a good person, after all."
Claxter reached down a muscular arm to pull her up. "Take my hand, and let's start looking into this. We won't improve your odds sitting on the grass. How long have you been in morph, anyway? It may be time to demorph. Given Terenia's death threats towards you, it may be safer to stay an Andalite. Stalk eyes and a tailblade would surely make her hesitate."
-
Keshin's search does not go well. He wanders the Dome with an aimless eye for a little while, but finds nothing but Claxter and the strange person called Efaen. Efaen....all that he knew for certain about her was that she had caused a great deal of trouble for the rebellion. And even that was only on the grapevine. <I don't want to interrupt their conversation, but we're going to need to work out where the food is now.>
<Yep, just ask.>
Keshin wanders closer to Claxter and Efaen, hearing eerie strings of an intimate conversation. Claxter appears to be giving some kind of counsel to the girl, who looks afraid and frustrated. The quiet kindness of the incident makes an emotion squirm painfully in Keshin's chest. How many lives has he passed but never entered? How many opportunities have the turelek pair lost, in their quest for life? He vaguely remembered pushing Myitt's offers to him at a place in the rebellion away, and a part of him regretted it.
<What's wrong, Kess?>
<....nothing. Just a few stray memories.>
"Claxter," says Keshin, getting his attention. "Do you know where the protein supplements are? Ossanlin has limited us to this Dome and our quarters, and we can't eat the grass like you can. We're sorry for interrupting, but...well, you've been an enormous help to everyone so far. Including us."
-
"You know, I didn't pay much mind to where they took the food." Claxter said. He grabbed a communicator out of his belt, and called Ossanlin. <Prince Ossanlin, this is Claxter. Can you remind me where the protien supplements for the Humans went? My thoughts were elsewhere when we got here.>
-
Ossanlin's communicator chirps to him in private thought-speech. He keeps a stalk-eye on Enorryma...she'd remained stoic for a good deal of time after his most recent comments. Certainly she must be going through some difficult moral dilemmas. He'd asked a lot of her, after all...more than most, considering her well-set preconceptions.
Ossanlin commands the communicator's channel open and listens to Claxter's message, glancing around the dome. <<Myitt has charge of the nutritional supplements, both human and Yeerk. They are stored inside the quarters which I assigned to herself and Illim.>>
-
<<Thank you, my Prince.>>
"He said it's in Myitt's room. I suppose I could talk to her about it if you would rather not do it yourself." Given that Terenia had been with Myitt and Illim, he considered demorphing before approaching near her. However, he was afraid that might put Efaen off. He still had his shredder, of course. If she tried anything, he could blast her and have her thrown in a holding cell.
-
~ STORY NARRATION~
Back at the Corvus Facility, a sleek craft which appeared to be made for speed touched down in the main hangar. The craft had weapons and technology unlike anything ever seen by most Andalites. Its black hull seemed ominous, but the color of its skin did nothing to rival the color of the soul within.
Iksilon sighed as his transport touched down at the Corvus facility. Of course he’d gotten word mere hours after the facility had been raided. Odd, that. The raid, not the fact that he’d received word of it so quickly. Of course, the Corvus facility was one of Sector Seven’s more open operations, or at least one of the better-known ones. That didn’t change the fact that it was supposed to be a secret from nearly everyone.
That oaf, Kyran. How could he screw up one of the easiest assignments in S.S.? This was the last straw…he’d be dealt with, and Iksilon had half a mind to take care of the idiot himself.
He descended from his transport behind his escort of personal guards…some of his most-trusted confidants. Of course he wouldn’t trust them with his life…he wouldn’t trust that to anyone but himself, but they had shown remarkable loyalty in the past. Kyran wasn’t even there to greet him. The fool was truly ignorant.
Two guards saluted as Iksilon walked past into the dome proper. Most of his fellow male Andalites looked at him with at least mild disdain. Iksilon was small for a male, in fact, he was often mistaken for a petite female from a distance. That didn’t bother him. Oh it used to, back when he was younger. Most of the males were much larger and more physically imposing in the Academy, but Iksilon thanked fate for that now. It had trained him to use his mind instead of his body to achieve his goals. Why fight, when you could manipulate someone else to do it for you, or better yet, manipulate your enemy into doing what you wanted without any fighting at all? And now…now he was perhaps the most powerful Andalite alive.
So many Andalites were blinded by the propaganda, they were easy to manipulate, and even easier to predict. Iksilon’s predecessor had been responsible for the inception of the anti-Yeerk propaganda campaign…it had been the saving grace of that particular being’s career. Iksilon admitted to himself that the propaganda had been a wonderful idea. That hadn’t stopped Iksilon’s predecessor from experiencing an unfortunate accident at the shipyards, but Iksilon had actually felt something akin to regret at ending the male’s life.
He trotted up the path to the main facility, his four guards flanking his rear on either side, and stepped into the large central foyer. The facility looked benign, as well it should. What better way to hide secrets than by disguising them with simple facades? He trotted to the central elevator, a few security staff passing by him on their way to various duties. He smiled. It wasn’t pretty. They all underestimated him, to a person. That was one of his greatest advantages in life. Simple facades.
He and his body-guards stepped onto the central lift and descended to the first basement level. They stepped into the hallway and crossed, entering the central control room for the facility with its large holographic displays. There was Kyran, standing near the front. His main eyes darted up at the sound of the door, and he frowned at Iksilon, turning his attention back to the two individuals he was talking to. Iksilon knew Kyran’s type. Large, imposing, using their size and musculature to attempt intimidation. The young male to which he was speaking looked somewhat flustered. A good actor, Nirdran was. He’d bristled at being stationed on Corvus, and Iksilon understood his frustrations, but Nirdran was and always had been much more competent than Kyran. He would be the one to inherit control of the facility.
Iksilon and his guards trotted up to Kyran and Nirdran. Iksilon stretched and just as Kyran turned his main eyes on him, Iksilon threw all of his weight into a backhand to Kyran’s cheek. The impact left his left hand stinging. Kyran’s eyes widened in shock, and then flared in outrage…certainly not from any sort of pain that Iksilon might’ve been able to inflict, but from pure anger at the backhand’s audacity. Iksilon’s guards merely raised their weapons, and Kyran’s posture relaxed a bit, though his flaring breathing slits betrayed his anger. Nirdran merely watched on, now impassive.
<You’re a fool Kyran. An idiot. How did you ever earn the rank of War Prince?> He stared at Kyran’s face, utterly calm. <Don’t bother answering, it was a rhetorical question.>
Some of those in the facility looked on, stunned. Others merely glanced at the confrontation and went on about their business. In the military, Iksilon’s rank was merely Prince Lieutenant, but those in Sector Seven knew that Iksilon truly outranked Kyran, though even those didn’t know by how much.
<<The Alpha-Lord will hear of this…your death will->>
<<Will he, Kyran? Will he? I would be more concerned about my own standing with the Alpha-Lord were I you.>> Iksilon’s smile made Kyran take a step back. <<I happen to know the Alpha-Lord personally, Kyran…and he is very, very displeased with your performance.>>
<<My performance?! I have done nothing but->>
<Nothing, Kyran?> Iksilon changed to open thought-speech so the rest of the operations room could hear. <You have all but ruined my facility.>
<I…>
<You are responsible for what happened here, just as much as those who perpetrated this attack.>
Iksilon could see the rage growing hotter in Kyran’s eyes. So much rage…no one embroiled by that much emotion should ever be put in a position of power. <I assure you, Prince Lieutenant, that we are doing everything we can to ascertain what happened.> He couldn’t even keep the edge of anger from intruding upon his tone. What a joke of a Prince.
<And how did they get in?> Iksilon kept his main eyes glued on Kyran…intense, yet calm.
<We…believe that it was the service pad.> Kyran shifted his eyes back and forth.
<<It was the service entrance, Lord Commander.>> Nirdran never indicated that he was speaking at all, though his words were directed at Iksilon alone. Indeed, a good actor.
<The service entrance is to be locked down whenever it is not in use, Kyran.>
<They gained entry and proceeded to the service level. There were multiple groups…three groups of at least six apiece.> Kyran’s gaze grew sure again. He was gaining confidence as he went.
<<There were three groups, Lord Commander…but I would be surprised if any one of the groups consisted of more than two or three members.>> Nirdran appeared to be looking down at the floor. Yes, there was a lot of potential in that one.
<All of the assailants were Hork-Bajir Imperials. They had a decent plan, I’ll give them that, but they still only managed to free five of their kind from captivity. We still possess the others.> Kyran’s posture straightened, pride coming through his tone of thought, as if he had been the one to keep the raiders from freeing any more of the prisoners.
<<They were Hork-Bajir, Lord Commander, but they were all outfitted with ARC projectors and modified ASARs. Every captive freed was originally apprehended from the Yeerk Rebellion attack. The captives that remain were all apprehended at other times.>>
<They hacked the central computer and knocked out power. I will not be held accountable for Nirdran’s incompetence. He was the one in charge of the control room. If he’d been competent, he would’ve been able to stop the computer hack. Without that, the Imperial raid would’ve fallen apart. I plan on discharging the Command Warrior and am recommending full disciplinary action.>
Nirdran’s main eyes tightened at that. A good actor, but not perfect. <<The hack happened nearly instantaneously, Lord Commander. They uploaded a virus with a mutable spectral wave-form. It was incredibly precise, locking each and every door that wasn’t being used by the raiders. They disconnected the singularity chamber immediately thereafter, and disconnected the secondary computer power supply. The entire facility was frozen.>>
<The Imperials blundered around the facility. They freed the human hosts, surely as a distraction, though the hosts followed them.> Kyran’s face twisted with distaste at that. Ah yes…the propaganda at work. <They even went through supply rooms and the weapons labs before they found the Yeerk holding cells. The secondary security systems helped cut them short. They used explosives and incendiary to cover their escape. We lost only one life. The rest of our personnel are accounted for.> By the time Kyran was finished with his account, he was dripping with confidence . He thought the footing firmly beneath his hooves once again.
<<Their attacks were precise and coordinated. They knew exactly where to cut through the floor, and every room they visited had a purpose. They took large quantities of human supplement and Kandrona generators as well as the Yeerk mineral supplement. They recovered all of the weapons and personal possessions confiscated from the Rebellion humans, and armed them before making egress. They used non-lethal options on our Warriors. And the female, Efaen, has not been found. It is my opinion that she fled with the Rebels.>> Nirdran was still looking at the floor, the perfect image of a chastised Warrior…the perfect image, were it not for the anger in his eyes over Kyran’s utter incompetence.
Iksilon nodded, glancing around the room once before returning his intense gaze to Kyran. <So then…a group of Hork-Bajir armed with modified Andalite technology landed at a hangar that was supposed to be secure. They proceeded directly to the vertical shaft leading to the service level and split off into three targeted teams two or three strong. With obvious knowledge, foresight, and planning, they attached floor-cutters in the two exact places where they would be necessary. They uploaded a specifically-targeted spectral virus and then cut power to the facility, locking it down. They proceeded to free the human hosts, procure human feed supplement, kandrona generators, and Yeerk mineral supplement, not to mention only those weapons and possessions confiscated from the very humans they freed. Then entered the Yeerk holding cells and freed only those Yeerks apprehended from the so-called Yeerk Rebellion, leaving the rest, and then escaped along with one of your personnel whom you seem to have conveniently forgotten about. Is that about right?>
Each fact presented looked as though it wielded a physical blow to Kyran, his confidence crumbling into impotent blustering. Of course he’d known some of the facts…he’d merely spun them to make himself look better, but he truly hadn’t seen the rest. An idiot truly worthy of the name.
<Where is Efaen-Purinial-Serfit?> Iksilon’s gaze remained calm, steady and intense, on Kyran’s main eyes.
Kyran’s eyes widened in true shock as he looked around, searching the room as if it would hold an answer. <I…I do not consider her one of my personnel. I am not responsible for her. She probably ran off in the confusion and got herself killed.>
Iksilon remained silent, staring, for a good, long time before finally speaking again. <Kyran-Mefil-Exton, I formally strip you of your command of the Corvus facility and advance Nirdran-Facil-Kerorat to the position of Corvus facility Commander with a promotion to the rank of Prince-Lieutenant, effective immediately.>
<WHAT?! You can’t…YOU CAN’T DO THAT!> Kyran leapt forward with sudden ferocity, aiming a tail-strike at Iksilon’s neck. Iksilon flowed around Kyran’s attack, taking great satisfaction in the look of incredulity on Kyran’s face, before striking his own tail sideways in a quick swipe that lopped off half of Kyran’s tail, blade included.
The War Prince screamed with shame and anguish mere moments before two stun bolts caught him in the chest, dropping him in a crumpled, bleeding heap, his dismembered tail twitching on the floor next to him.
Nirdran looked up, dropping his chastised act completely. He smiled briefly at seeing Kyran publicly shamed, and then met Iksilon’s calm gaze. <<Lord Commander, I thank you for the opportunity, but I must request a transfer. My talents would be put to better use elsewhere…>>
<<You will stay and assume command of the Corvus Facility, Lord Lieutenant. I sense your frustrations…be assured that in the near future, your position will become critically important. I promise that once this comes to pass, you will become a very influential Andalite.>>
Iksilon gestured at Kyran’s unconscious form, glancing at two of his personal body-guards. <Bring him.>
He turned and started walking toward the central lift again before pausing and turning his main eyes back on the new Corvus Facility commander. <<And Nirdran, if you ever second-guess me again…>> Iksilon smiled darkly, and Nirdran’s eyes widened in fear with just a glimmer of understanding. So…he’d figured it out. A great deal of potential indeed.
The two guards he’d glanced at had stowed their weapons and morphed goralm. They picked up Kyran’s limp form and carried it to the lift behind Iksilon and his other two body-guards. They rode up to the second level and entered the office which used to belong to Kyran. Nirdran would be moving in soon, but there were still a few things to resolve. Mainly, Kyran was still alive.
-
"No, it's fine," said Keshin in a quieter, more reserved tone. "I can talk to Myitt. Even if Myitt doesn't want to talk to me." Keshin has felt a strange desire to speak to his old foe ever since he entered the ship, and this is as good an excuse as he's found. "Thank you for your information."
Keshin strides quickly through the grass, away from the distraught Efaen and toward the section of the ship where the rebel quarters are located. There was much to think about----The possibility of becoming a human nothlit free of Joanne's curse. Who he could befriend on the ship, and who he couldn't. It was mildly unsettling to Keshin that the Andalites had been more accepting than the rebellion, but only due to lingering racial sentiment---he hadn't tried to kill them quite as often. The disorientation of being in a new place was starting to fade, but his health was little better. Keshin briefly put an arm against the wall, resting, and then proceeded down the hall.
-
Efaen does not take his hand, though she does consider his question. "I have been in morph for one and a half standard hours," she says. "I would prefer to remain in this form for as long as possible. Terenia's threats don't bother me."
She pulls herself to her feet on her own, glancing down at Illim and giving a little, apologetic shrug. "You can come with us, if you'd like. Perhaps you have a brilliant idea to keep the medics here from stopping my hearts?"
-
"You're not going to get used to your natural form if you hardly use it. Is there anything about it that you have trouble with, aside from just not liking the species?"
Varekil was the closest thing they had to what they needed, and Claxter called him up. <Warrior Varekil, I need to talk to you concerning a delicate surgical procedure. Efaen has a tracking chip implant that's designed to be all but impossible to remove. We need to talk it over to see if there's any way to make this go as well as possible.>
-
"I have no need to become accustomed to my Andalite form," Efaen responds, a little stiffly. "I prefer this one."
She watches Claxter, frowning slightly. As he places the call to the ship's head medic, she sends a private, message to Illim, her thought-speech dry. <<I certainly hope he involves himself this deeply in everyone's affairs and not just my own.>>
-
"Fine. I won't argue with you. Though I assume you sleep in Andalite form, and morphing Human isn't going to help much if you get attacked at night."
-
Efaen's dark eyebrows raise. "Am I at risk of a nocturnal attack here?" she asks, looking around the Dome for an unseen attacker. "The rebels may not like me, but they are my allies. I do not believe they will attempt to harm me. Do you mean to imply I may be victim of an Andalite attack? That would not surprise me, I suppose, but it is hardly a matter worth arguing over. I will not need to fear any attacks for much longer. Whether I die in my quarters asleep or in the med bay, it makes no difference. The end result is the same."
-
"The rebel's loyalty to you is questionable, with possible exceptions." Claxter said, glancing at Illim when mentioning exceptions. "Sector Seven will find us eventually, which will become a problem for you if the surgery goes well. The Andalites on this ship won't attack you, as they have no particular reason to. Terenia has already threatened to kill you, and I assume the rebels like her more than you."
"You really shouldn't brush your future off as a certainty. You don't seem suicidal, so I take it you must have some hope of a better future."
-
"Wait, you're doing this... procedure today?" Illim asks, standing beside Efaen and scowling. His stomach abruptly makes a loud growling sound, and he claps a hand over it in irritation. "Have you given your consent?" he looks to Efaen. "And you're sure thiscould even work? It sounds like a cheat that surely the makers of this tracker would've considered."
Tess sniffs and nods. "I understand," she murmurs as she looks up to Keslin. "Life goes on, right?" She gives a bitter smile, then leans over to kiss his cheek, James still in her arms, staying relatively still except for the occasional flailing limb. "I'm glad you were here for it all. Everything's been more bearable for that."
-
"Ossanlin says there is no other way," Efaen says with a small snort of disaproval. "And no, I have not given my consent, and nor was I asked for it. I do not think it much matters. If they want me dead, it is an all-too-convenient way for them to bring that about while continuing to do what appears ethical." She glances at Claxter.
"No, I am not suicidal," she says flatly. "I simply do not believe this procedure will work. I do not believe Ossanlin or any other Andalite here has any reason to want it to work. Thus far I have only been seen as a liability."
Terenia watches Myitt go of in search of food, but she doesn't follow, staying at the entrance to the Dome. For a long time she stands there, staring at no one and nothing. Eventually she does move, but it is just to the edge of the Dome, to slide down the invisible glass and sit on the ground, her knees against her chest. Her thoughts are slow and incoherent, and she is having difficulty moving beyond the glaring fact that Corliss is not with her. Instead of trying to clear her mind, though, she just hugs her legs and trembles.
Keslin nods, leaning over to kiss Tess'forehead. He hesitates, then reaches a shaking hand to touch James' cheek and kisses the child's forehead as well. "I will be back as soon as I can," he murmurs as he stands.
He makes his way out of the room and into the hallway, looking both ways for any sign of the Captain. He isn't sure where Ossanlin might have gone, or the quickest way to get ahold of him, so he turns towards the bridge and begins walking.
-
"I guess all I can really say is that Prince Ossanlin and I saved you from enslavement from Terenia. You worked for him, did something wrong, was punished by people that had no authority to do so, and we're still trying to help you. I know you don't consider us your kind, but we still consider you one of us. I don't mean to upset you, but this is the reason we are helping. I know we haven't really asked you for permission, but it's not as if you can leave. You'd just be tracked down, interrogated, and killed by Sector Seven if you left."
"We're not just trying to orchestrate a fake accident. I'm not sure how to prove that without me doing a memory dump, but if that's what it takes..."
-
"Why can't I leave?" Efaen asks bluntly. "If I left, I would draw Sector Seven away from you. I could lead them off of your trail and buy you time. If I am going to die, I may as well do it helping you dapsens," she says, the Yeerkish swear slipping off her tongue easily. "There are people I care about on this ship, even if they do not care about me."
She scowls, looking away. Her gaze lands on Terenia, sitting near the edge of the Dome, looking completely miserable. Sighing, she turns her attention back to Claxter. "I have an apology to make," she says in a quieter tone, nodding towards Terenia. "Speaking with the medic can wait."
-
Claxter flinched when Efaen called him and the others dapsens, visibly hurt. "How would that help us? Once they have you, they'd know we weren't dead. Plus I care about you. I came out here to help you. Whatever small diversion your leaving gives isn't worth what is lost." He said when he recovered.
He followed her gaze to Terenia. He said nothing regarding his feelings that there was nothing Efaen should apologize to Terenia for. If anything, Claxter should be apologizing to Efaen for not just killing Terenia at the bar when he had the chance. Killing a helpless individual in cold blood wasn't like him, though. He wasn't like Terenia.
"Fine. He's not answering right now anyway." He said, ready to walk with her to Terenia.
-
"It would help you if I died before Sector Seven caught me," Efaen says with a shrug. She reaches a hand up through her short, frizzy dark hair as she approaches the grieving woman.
"Terenia?" she asks tentatively, stopping a few feet away from her. Terenia blinks slowly, then focuses on Efaen. The corners of her eyes narrow ever so slightly.
"What?" she asks. Her voice is flat and hollow, not angry so much as defeated.
Again, Efaen hesitates, but she takes another step forward, then lowers herself into a squatting position beside Terenia. She spares Claxter only a quick glance before turning her attention back to Terenia. "I wanted to apologize," she says quietly. "For using the morph of Mike during the escape."
Terenia's shoulders stiffen at this, and she blinks rapidly, her narrowed eyes filling with tears, but she says nothing, only hugging her knees more tightly.
"I wouldn't have," Efaen continues, quickly, "but I had to morph someone that wasn't already there, and all the morphs I have...Mike was the only one that wasn't on Corvus." Licking her lips, she continues, speaking quietly, but rapidly. "That doesn't mean that he's dead, though. Corliss is smart, and there are rendezvous points."
Swallowing back a lump in her throat, Terenia doesn't respond immediately. She glances suspiciously up at Claxter, not recognizing him, then looks back to Efaen. "I don't know that he's there," she finally says in a whisper.
"So you're giving up before you can find out?" Efaen asks incredulously. Frustrated, she switches to thought-speech. <I may not know you very well, Terenia, but I know your story --our story -- and I saw you around base enough to know that you are not the sort of person who admits defeat easily. If Corliss and Mike are not at the rendezvous points, perhaps this sort of behavior would be merited, but at this particular juncture it is not. It is cowardly.>
Terenia stares at Efaen during her speech, her fingers curling tightly around her legs, until her fingernails are digging into the fabric of her dirty jeans. A scowl twists her features and when she responds there is a spark of anger in her tone. "I am not a coward."
-
"It would help us if we removed the chip, and you lived to aide us. Us including the rebels on this ship as well, since you insist on your loyalties with them. We need all the help we can get."
Claxter let his hand rest on the shredder as he watched the conversation between Efaen and Terenia. She doesn't seem to recognize him, which doesn't surprise him. Days at the bar was a year for them, so her memories of him wouldn't be as fresh as her memories of her. He looked at Terenia with mild contempt, but said nothing. On second thought, he remembered he was in morph. Of course she wouldn't remember his morph.
-
<No?> Efaen asks, feigning surprise. <Every time I have seen you since we arrived yesterday you have been practically comatose. I saw you on Corvus, and you had more life to you then. Why could you hold out hope for Corliss' survival there but not here?>
She sighs then, letting her thoughts soften. <I came to apologize, and I am sorry. I did not mean to make your pain worse by morphing Mike. I assure you it will not happen again.>
Terenia's lips press together into a thin line, and she seems torn between anger and grief. After a moment she swallows and nods, forcing her fingers to unclench. "I should eat something," she says, only just becoming aware of how ravenous she is.
<You should go with Illim. He will find you food,> Efaen says, pushing herself back to her feet. A little reluctantly, she offers Terenia her hand.
Terenia stares at the offered hand for a moment, then takes it, letting Efaen help her to her feet. "Thanks," she mutters, dropping her gaze to the ground. Her gaze flickers to Claxter once again. "You're not one of the rebels," she says cautiously. "Who are you?"
-
<I am Claxter, in morph to help ease Efaen's comfort while spending time with her. Perhaps you recognize me from the bar? I'll give you a warning right now. If I catch you making the slightest move to act on your recent threats, you'll find yourself back in a holding cell.>
-
Terenia's lip curls a little when Claxter introduces himself. "How the hell would I recognize you? Most of the time I saw you, you were blue." She looks his human morph up and down briefly, then snorts a little. "What threats?"
"When you first realized who I was, you were not particularly...frie ndly, if you will recall" Efaen says quietly. "I believe you tried to attack me."
"Well, yeah," Terenia says, seeming to gain some of her strength back as she rolls her eyes. "I was ****ing pissed off. Wait, you don't actually think I'd kill her, do you?" Terenia laughs, then looks surprised by the sound, as if she had forgotten she could make it. "You idiot, Efaen's only alive because of me, why would I kill her?"
-
<You have the gall to ask me why you'd kill someone you once treated as property? Perhaps because you're psychotic.> Claxter said, voice raising not far below yelling. <Efaen was tortured and enslaved because of you. She killed rebels because you invited her so she could continue being a slave after I rescued her from you. Everything that's wrong with her life is because of you. are you saying it was your idea to steal the last thing she had left? What authority did you have to do anything? She worked for Prince Ossanlin, not you or Reven.>
<You have been nothing but a curse on her. Why would I not expect you to kill her? It's not as if being fond of someone prevents you from killing them if they don't conform to your beliefs. You didn't value her as anything more than property the last time I saw you, and the first words out of your mouth the next time was a death threat. For what? You act as if morphing someone is like enslaving them and running off to go work for Visser Three.>
<I ought to have killed you back at the bar when I rescued Efaen, but I'm not a cold blooded murderer like you. You were incredulous when I thought you might kill your sister, and she's dead. Now you're incredulous that I think you might kill Efaen? You're the idiot here. You knew Efaen better than anyone on the galaxy. What did you think was going to happen when you knew she wasn't going to join the rebels as your puppet?>
<Don't you ever pretend that anything you've done has helped Efaen, or done enough to make up for all the harm you caused. If you honestly think you've ever been a good influence on her, you're either a narcissist or in some other way detached from reality.>
-
"Claxter!" Efaen hisses aloud, looking appalled.
Terenia goes completely still, blanching a little at Claxter's tirade. When he mentions her sister her chest contracts and her cheeks flush pink. Her hands clench into fists at her side, but she doesn't interrupt, letting the Andalite vent. When he finishes she takes a couple of deep, steadying breaths, not allowing her sometimes explosive anger to take over.
"You've been wanting to say that to me for awhile, haven't you?" she says, keeping her voice as steady as she can, though it is tight with a barrage of emotions. Which, she has to admit,is better than the nothingness she had been feeling moments ago. She takes another deep breath.
"You're right, of course," she murmurs. "Nothing I can do will ever make up for what I put Efaen through, or what happened to my sister. Does that mean that I should give up trying, though?" She shrugs her shoulders. "As you said, I knew Efaen -- the old Efaen -- better than anyone else. That doesn't mean I saw her attack coming. I wanted the rebellion to help her. I didn't like her, but I wanted her to find a home there and be happy, because after what I put her through she deserved some happiness. She didn't have to come with me. I didn't force her."
Efaen shifts uncomfortably, frowning as Terenia talks about a version of herself she does not remember.
"I didn't ever, in a million years, think that Efaen was capable of cold-blooded murder," Terenia continues, her anger beginning to show as she steps forward towards Claxter. "Let alone the mass murder of completely defenseless creatures who did nothing to her. I would have understood if she attacked me, but those Yeerks didn't do a damn thing to her except try and make her feel welcomed. And you know what? I still saved her sorry ass, because I understood that she was ****ed up, and it was my fault. She was sentenced to death, and so long as she was a threat to the rebellion, they would have killed her. You didn't see the trial, Claxter. They were out for her blood."
"Perhaps I should go," Efaen says under her breath, taking a step back, away from Claxter and Terenia, the confrontation putting her on edge.
-
<If any place was going to be a home for Efaen, it would have been on Prince Ossanlin's ship, being guided by fellow Andalites away from the propaganda. Not with people she's been raised to hate. If a trial was to be had, it would be with Prince Ossanlin, her superior. You didn't save her. You just wiped her and started conforming her to your views.>
<She wasn't forced into going, but she didn't need to be near you if she was to get better. Have you even accomplished anything good since you left your family?>
Claxter took a few moments to try to calm himself. <My view of you is very one sided. I left the electorate to come find Efaen and help her, and it upset me to hear after all this you were threatening to kill her. Apparently you don't believe you will, but I honestly don't know what you might do. I'm not positive you even know what you're doing. I guess pushing your buttons isn't going to help the situation we're both in.>
Claxter started demorphing. <I need some distance.> he said, moving away from Terenia and Efaen.
-
"Now you're blaming me for Efaen's mistakes!" Terenia cries incredulously. "I didn't force her to go or to be near me. She chose that. I didn't keep her from Ossanlin's ship, she did! I only wiped her memories because she would have died otherwise, and god ****ing dammit no one forced her to believe anything! If she's decided to hate you four-legged, arrogant bastards, it's not anything we did. We let Tora -- an Andalite -- take care of her after her memories were wiped. We tried to make sure she learned as much about her ****ing heritage as possible."
When Claxter moves away, Terenia makes an angry, disgusted sound. Her lip quivers for a moment, but then she turns her back on him, pausing briefly to eye Efaen. "I'm glad you're okay," she says quietly, then stalks back towards Illim, looking more herself than she has since Corvus.
"Let's find some ****ing food," she says to Illim pointedly.
Efaen blinks, too taken aback by the unexpected argument to come up with her own retort. After Terenia stomps off she follows Claxter, frowning. <She is right, you know,> Efaen says, using thought-speech as she, too, begins to demorph, sensing that her two hours are almost up. <I spend a good deal of my time with Ertoran, in the beginning. She taught me the Andalite customs, and rituals.>
Keslin walks for what must be a good ten minutes before coming to a halt, clearly turned around. Frowning, he inspects the hallways, then chooses one at random. Eventually, he manages to make his way back to the Dome which, while not his original destination, serves him well enough. He scans the open expanse, taking note immediately of the rebels present in the alien park, but shying away from them. He is not quite ready to answer the questions they no doubt have regarding Tess.
When he gaze falls on a familiar Andalite form -- is he getting better at telling them apart, or is it just the distinctive weapons that help him? -- Keslin's lips settle into a grim smile. He shoves his trembling hands into his pockets and makes his way in the general direction of Ossanlin and Enorryma.
-
Ossanlin's stalk eyes catch one of the rebels making their way toward him. Keslin...definitely Keslin. He pauses, glancing his main eyes toward Enorryma, his lungs breathing deeply after the short run. <<Enorryma, please report to the bridge and relieve the night duties. Make sure we're still on course and take the Command for now. I sense that Keslin means to speak with me. Considering the circumstances, it must be important.>>
He falls silent as he hears the piercing voice of an angry human female. His other stalk-eye catches sight of Terenia, Efaen, and a demorphing Claxter. He doesn't display the scowl that tries to make its way onto his features. No doubt Claxter had spoken his mind...he'd have to have a chat with him later...this was no time for unnecessary antagonism. Terenia was being watched...that should be more than enough for him.
Ossanlin turns toward Keslin and makes his way toward the controller at a more sedate pace, maintaining decorum. The human looks haggard. Moreso than he had when he'd been removed from the facility on Corvus. He stops a good fifteen feet back from the approaching controller, allowing the human and Yeerk to decide how close was comfortable for them.
-
<You forced her to be near you the second you decided to kidnap her for your own goals. You're the one who first asked her to come with you. Do you think Corliss would have invited her if not for you? You took her from her life, and when forced to end your service to Visser Three, you opened the window of opportunity for her to harm the rebellion. Before Ossanlin gave you your body back, you only wanted her for a host, and afterwards you said you didn't care, yet you claim this was for her happiness? You threatened to kill her yesterday, yet claim to have forgotten about it, and act shocked that I think you're willing to kill her? You're either a liar, or insane.>
It took him a few moments to process that there was another Andalite among the rebellion. <I'm not sure how to reply to that.> He said to Efaen. <I don't know anything about it, but it doesn't make anything Terenia did right.>
<I shouldn't have followed you over here. Even if it did get it off my chest, I should probably practice more control. I just wanted to give her a mild warning, and look what happened.> He finished demorphing, and trots off to collect himself.
-
Efaen hesitates, finishing her own demorph before she follows Claxter, keeping a distance of several feet in case he does not want to speak to her.
<I do not entirely understand,> Efaen says after a brief hesitation, <why Terenia's actions anger you so much. I know she has done many terrible things, but it seems as if very few, if any, of them have affected you directly, and I am certain that most of the people here have done terrible things. Myself included.> All four of her eyes watch Claxter, curious and a little timid.
Keslin comes to a stop a few feet in front of Ossanlin, instinctively keeping himself out of reach of the Andalite's tail. He takes a deep breath, pulling one hand from his pocket to run it through Chris' shaggy hair and scratch at his jawline. He is desperately in need of a shave after so long on Corvus, not to mention a shower, but the unfolding events have not allowed him an opportunity to clean himself up.
"Ossanlin," he begins with a nod, working to keep exhaustion and grief out of his voice. He tries to remember if Ossanlin was present in the room at any time during the birth, but his memories of the ordeal are entirely tied up in Tess. He clears his throat. "I was hoping I could get an update regarding our attempts to locate the first rendezvous point. If I can be of any immediate assistance, I am..." he falters a little.
<<By the Kandrona, what I wouldn't give for half a packet right now,>> he whispers.
<<Don't even start down that road, man,>> Chris responds. <<Not now. Not with the kid.>>
Keslin swallows his words and nods to himself. "Tess is doing relatively well," he says, picking up his train of thought. "She will need rest, though, probably for several days. In the meantime, I am available, should you have need of me."
-
Claxter turns toward Efaen, still angry. However when he sees she's somewhat intimidated, he calms himself to a neutral expression. <I'm not sure what this Tora person taught you of Andalite culture, but there are a few things they hammer into our heads: All Yeerks are evil, and infestation is the worst thing that can happen to a person.> He brings his tail blade around to place it in front of his neck. <We are taught that in the event of possible capture, we are to commit suicide.> He moves the blade quickly across to help visualize the point. <Any andalite that is infested is called an abomination. We hate Visser Three so much because he enslaved one of our kind, and call him an abomination. Technically Terenia is the second abomination. What she did, and the reasons for what she did are both revolting and frightening.>
<Perhaps it's just more propaganda and indoctrination. I avoided hating Yeerks in general, but Terenia has shown nothing but anger and hypocracy towards us when we tried to help her at the bar. She was angry that we "meddled in her business", when frankly any Andalite that wasn't Prince Ossanlin would have killed her as soon as they found out what she did. What redeeming qualities does she even have that would make her less than contemptable?>
-
Efaen does not respond immediately, stopping far enough away from Claxter that she will be relatively safe, should he choose to vent his anger physically. <I do not know,> she admits. <In the time I have known her she has kept her distance from me. The few times we have spoken have been strained.> She tilts her head slightly, a disconcertingly human gesture for her Andalite form. <But I do not think her actions should be judged on the same scale as Imperial Yeerks. She is not a Yeerk, nor is she an Imperial. I cannot claim to know why she did what she did, or even more than the barest details about it, but from what I understand she was scarcely more than a child when it happened.>
She scuffs her hoof on the dirt, eager to return back to her human form, though slightly winded from the morph. She decides to wait a few moments longer.
<I disagree with what you are taught,> she continues. <Infestation is not the worst thing that can happen to a person. I chose voluntary infestation when I was with the rebels, and the Yeerk who chose to be my companion was kind. We were friends.>
-
Claxter felt bad for what had happened. Not enough to apologize to Terenia, but for losing his cool, and possible causing Efaen to fear him. <No, she wasn't born a Yeerk, and no she didn't grow up in the Empire even though no one forced her to work for them. Her sister's imperial Yeerk also treated her with about as much kindness as is possible for them. Terenia does seem to regret what she did, but nothing seems to come from that. The only reason she stopped working for Visser Three is because she was forced to. She had no good reason for convincing to bring you along, and apparently there was nothign set in place to prevent harm, aside from constant monitoring.>
<I'm not really sure what being a child has to do with it, though I've never been a civilian. I was raised in the military with a brutal Prince breaking me down and trying to mold me into what he wanted me to be.>
<I'll be willing to agree that perhaps a kind Yeerk that allows you some freedom is probably not the worst of nightmares, but Terenia was not that type of Yeerk. If it talks like an imperial, and acts like an imperial, it's hard to believe it isn't an imperial. If I can have more respect for someone who was loyal to the Empire than Terenia, there's something wrong with that picture.
-
Ossanlin nods, slowly closing the distance between them far enough that he can lay his right hand on Chris's left shoulder, attempting to convey a manner of peace and openness through his natural posture of command. <I am...sorry. I have lost Andalites under my command, some that I would've called "brother," but I cannot begin to understand the loss of one's young.> He pauses in a moment of silence before continuing.
<If work is what you desire, I'm sure we can use the assistance. What are your strengths? Where does your expertise lie?>
-
Efaen's brows draw together at that. <I did not know she was working for the Empire,> she says slowly. <I was under the impression that she was being held against her will. Corliss told me that she was tortured, forced to obey them.> She shakes her head, frustration seeping into her thoughts, <Perhaps he lied to me, out of his love for her. I do not know. It is difficult to know what is true and what is not when you do not have any of your own experiences to guide you.>
Keslin only nods at the words of condolences, not ready to deal with their implications just yet. He is too tired, too overwhelmed to even flinch at the Andalite's touch. Instead, he takes a breath and considers.
"I was one of the leaders, so my skills vary by necessity," Keslin says. "You saw my piloting earlier. A decade on a Bug Fighter is about the best fighter pilot training there is. And engineering...the dapsen things break down constantly. More importantly, though..." He shrugs. "The rebels here, they trust me. At least...the ones that don't trust Myitt, trust me, and the ones that don't trust me, trust Myitt. I can get you a roster of our people, those that are here, and what their specialties were on base. I know you have already put Niko to work, but I'm sure others will be of use." He clears his throat, his voice gaining strength as he pushes aside the recent emotional disturbances and focuses on the task at hand. "I'd like to see the specific information regarding which rendezvous point we are heading for. I may be able to extrapolate which members are supposed to be there, if they survived. There is one point in particular that should house our medical staff, and we should make that a priority as soon as we can."
-
<She went to the Empire of her own will, supposedly to rescue her sister. Though why she thought working for Visser Three was the best way to get onto the bladeship is beyond me. After that he put a tracker on her so he would always be able to find her, though even then there would be options for removing it or neutralizing it. After finding out her sister was voluntary, there wasn't really much she did besides be Visser Three's servant and fail to make Tamora change her mind. You were both tortured, to be sure. The only thing really keeping her in Visser Three's service was herself.>
<Perhaps I'll never understand what it was like being a civilian, going through that. Perhaps I wouldn't do much better in that position. Still, she has no one to blame but herself.>
-
<It sounds to me like if she didn't do what this Visser said, he would have killed her, and perhaps her sister as well,> Efaen says. She shrugs. <I do not remember being tortured, or what the effects of that were. But I know people who have been. I know that the threat of torture is often times more than enough to gain loyalty from someone who would otherwise resist.>
She considers for a moment, opening her hooves to take in some nutrients as she thinks. <There was a rebel I met on base, in the med bay. He helped me with my initial recovery, and monitoring my brain signals after the wipe to ensure that nothing was permanently impairing my cognitive functions. His name was Nefitt, and when he was within the Empire his job was to heal the tortured hosts so that they could be...re-used...for other Yeerks who had been accused of betraying the Empire. He never allowed me to speak with his host, because the man he resided in had gone completely mad, being forced into the Empire's torture chamber again and again, forced to be the vessel through which the traitor Yeerks endured their punishment.>
She trails off thoughtfully, and begins walking again, slowly. After a moment, she picks up again. <I cannot imagine what such pain would do to a person, given enough time. But I can understand how it might impair someone's judgment, and drive them to do things they would not otherwise have done. I saw that clearly enough through Nefitt.>
-
<Maybe that's it, then. Once he had her, he warped her to the point where she really is crazy. I suppose she was more afraid of death than pain.> Maybe if Claxter thought of her as just crazy instead of evil, that might allow him to be less angry around her. Though that didn't really make her more trustworthy. <We tried to be nice to her at the bar. We tried to help her. We did so much more than any other Andalite would have bothered to do. All she did was tell us to leave her alone. The same things Tamora said to her. I do not like her, but if you really want, I will try to be more patient with her. I still wouldn't want you to be alone, unarmed, and in Human form with her, though. She sometimes does things she states she wouldn't do.>
-
Efaen nods slowly. <I believe I am capable of protecting myself...probably more so in human form than in this one.> She turns one stalk eye to survey her tail blade doubtfully. <Andalite arms are not made for throwing punches.> Her eyes crinkle into a small smile then. <I...I do find it admirable, though, that you would attempt to help Terenia, when doing so was dangerous and of no immediate gain to yourself. Even if it ended poorly, it takes a good heart to even attempt such a thing.>
-
<You're thinking of the wrong end. I assure you that an Andalite tail beats a Human arm any day. I could give you some lessons, including how to use it nonlethally. Well, Andalite arms that are not Prince Ossanlin's, in any case. I wouldn't want him punching me in the face.>
<Well, it was that or blast her in the pool when I had the chance. It's not like we could just let her leave. Abandoning an involuntary Andalite host that was being made to serve Visser Three was out of the question, even for a Prince that didn't hate Yeerks equally. That was before I knew much about her, aside from the fact that she was a controller. Right now if there's anyone who could use a wipe and reset, it's probably her.>
<I'm going to be piloting the Terrenian soon. It's the biggest ship I will have flown. Piloting is one of my strong points, and Prince Ossanlin needs a new pilot. I'll start in a day or two.> He said in an attempt to change the subject.
-
Ossanlin removes his arm and nods again, turning toward the bridge. <Very well. You're welcome to join me on the bridge, should you desire.> Ossanlin begins to walk in the direction of the main concourse leading to the bridge, slowly enough that Keslin would be able to keep up without any strain. Things with the rebels must be handled with care...Ossanlin reminds himself again that they are not his to command, and would likely fight against such an idea. Careful words and careful tread.
<It is my hope that we can work together. I know that the rebels are not mine to command.> He keeps his main eyes on Keslin as he walks, his stalk eyes steering him in the proper direction. Humans often grew uncomfortable when being addressed without eye-contact. <But you must understand, this ship is one working unit made up of many people. If your rebels are to assume work duties on the ship, they must be willing to follow my commands and do so without second-guessing. We have some very dangerous individuals trying to find us, and three seconds of indecision could mean the difference between life and death.> He nods at Keslin. <Should your rebels be willing to accept those terms, and to devote themselves to the good of the ship as a whole, I would welcome their assistance. All positions would require at least a general working knowledge of the Tyrennian. I would give select members of your rebellion access to the Tyrennian's engineering, structural, and technical schematics to facilitate this process. But with that knowledge would come the ability to do grave injury to this entire ship and everyone on-board. That is why I would require the assurances I've mentioned.>
He continues to walk leisurely across the open plain of the Dome, enjoying the natural-feeling breeze blowing across his fur. <The one you call Niko, he is particularly...evol ved...for a human. I would say that his mind would rival an Andalite's, and I say that with no implication of condescension. Humans have great potential...Niko seems to have tapped into it, at least partially. Of course, I'm sure you are much better qualified to give an assessment of human neurological capabilities than is any Andalite.> Ossanlin eye-smiles to show that the comment was not meant to be negative in any way, but merely a comment on a fact.
-
Keshin, upon wandering into the halls leading to where they were staying, overheard a furious and public thought-speech outburst from the kind Andalite he'd met moments earlier. It was directed toward Terenia, a woman whom he'd had a....less-than-pleasant history with. They'd tried to kill her in the Bar a while back, and it was the reason he'd attacked Ossanlin. Yet one of them had to know where Myitt had stashed the food. Keshin swore under his breath. <He picked a terrible time to let out his frustrations, even if I do understand them.>
<Yeah. Ship's a pent-up ball of anxiety an' grudges. It's like you said----Ossanlin's ideals are nothin' on what we have against one another.>
Keshin waited for the argument to subside, which was also giving him time to think about how he would react. He couldn't side with anyone in the conflict, because he had no stake in it. Terenia was a mess of a human being, and everyone on the ship knew it. However, Claxter was very wrong about one thing---Terenia's sister and her Yeerk were just as poisonous as Terenia herself. The two of them had sent the tenuous relations between the Bar inhabitants spiraling into chaos without a second thought, with Joanne and himself as their chosen tool.
<Makes you wonder when we're gonna act without bein' somebody's tool, don' it? Are we Bluebutt's tool now?>
<Better him than any other, for right now.>
When the argument cooled, Keshin walked into the gathering as if he had no idea what had just been going on. Best not to bring it up. "Hey, errr....do any of you know where Myitt is at the moment? Or where she's keeping the refreshments? We're getting pretty cranky with hunger, and..." Keshin shakes his head a bit, as if noticing how frustrated the group looks. "...you guys don't look much better."
-
Claxter had walked a short distance from Terenia, and she him, but he saw and heard Keshin asking about food. Now was not a good time for him to approach Illim about food. <I'm sorry, Keshin, but I haven't seen Myitt walking around. Just follow Illim and Terenia for food.>
Unfortunately since Myitt and Illim had the food, and Claxter had likely soured any chance of pleasantries with with them for now, there wasn't much he could do. It must be frustrating for the hungry Human, know he and the other Andalites could easily have filled up already wheil they spent time and energy just looking for breakfast.
-
<<Enorryma, please report to the bridge and relieve the night duties. Make sure we're still on course and take the Command for now. I sense that Keslin means to speak with me. Considering the circumstances, it must be important.>>
<<Sir.>> Norry moved quickly toward the Dome exit, silently relieved to be dismissed to practical duties. The run had been a good stretch, and she felt physically more up to par, but she had not cared for the emotional nature of the conversation Ossanlin had started. She wondered if Ossanlin realized what an impossible thing he was asking of her, to speak only as a friend and not a subordinate: Ossanlin's friendship could no more be divorced from his rank than Norry's authority within the ship could be divorced from her military history and reputation. Necessity forced Enorryma and Ossanlin to take up the same side of whatever conflict they joined, and that was all there was to say about it, as far as Enorryma believed or cared.
She took the most direct routes she could find through the halls of the ship, stepping out onto the bridge and making her way over to each workstation respectively. Certainly, she could have accessed the screens of every station, from the captain's station, but she preferred getting the reports first-hand from each crewmember as she made a circuit of the bridge. She made her first stop at the helm station.
<Anything new to report, and are we still on schedule to make our destination at the projected time?>
-
It would still be several minutes before those on day duty for the bridge reported for duty, but those whom had been running the ship through the evening tail-salute Enorryma.
Anir, a middle-aged male, manipulates a few controls on the helm before turning his main eyes on Enorryma. <Nothing new except a small, favorable shift in Z-Space, Prince-Commander. We are still on-course, but we will be arriving at the supplied coordinates early this evening instead of tomorrow morning. Otherwise, Z-Space has been relatively calm. We discovered a small spatial misalignment within the Z-Drive, but it was nothing serious. We believe it resulted from the stresses suffered by the Z-Drive during the double jump yesterday. We were able to correct it remotely.>
-
Efaen blinks her main eyes in surprise when Claxter brushes past her compliment. After his persistance in befriending her, she had expected him to be relieved that she was even acknowledging him, let alone complimenting him.
<Congratulations on your new assignment,> she says, a little stiffly. <And no, I thank you, but I do not need lessons. I only maintain this form so I am not a strain on the human's resources. Otherwise I would have nothlitized myself a long time ago.>
As if in answer to her thoughts, Keshin shows up, asking where the food is. Efaen frowns a little at that, though she does not jump into the conversation. It is not for her to help the bounty hunter. Instead she paces away from Claxter, opening her hooves to the grass as she does so.
Keslin considers as he walks alongside Ossanlin. "The other rebels will follow Myitt and myself. If we tell them to default to you in certain circumstances...you may meet resistance from some, but of the people here I believe most will listen."
His gaze drops to the ground, watching the lush grass as he trods over it. His entire body feels weak, ready to collapse, but he pushes it aside.
<<I gotta sleep sometime, Kes,>> Chris murmurs.
<<I know. Just give me some time,>> Keslin responds, dreading the moment his host falls asleep, leaving him alone and awake to contemplate all of their losses.
"Niko is a bright man," Keslin continues. "I don't know him well, but he is rather adept at theoretical physics, from what I understand." He smiles blandly. "Human neurological capabilities differ greatly from human to human. They all have their strengths and weaknesses."
<<So do Yeerks,>> Chris reminds Kes, his thoughts on Keslin's increasingly disruptive trembling.
-
<I didn't mean to offend you.> Claxter said. He was surprised that she had in fact considered becoming a nothlit a long time ago. He started walking with her. <I'm sorry. I'm glad you didn't become a nothlit. Perhaps you could tell me about Tora. Why did this individual join the rebellion? I assume Tora would have told you some good things about our people, or it wouldn't have been noted that you were raised by one. Do you think Tora may be at the rendevous point?>
-
<Excellent. Thank you for your good work through the night shift. If there is nothing further to report for now, Anir, you may take leave from your post. I can relieve the helm station until the morning crew arrives.>
The favourable anomaly was the best news she had heard in quite some time, and as the beginning of a shift could go, this had been a good one.
-
Ossanlin nods at Keslin as they walk. <"Most" is not all. Those whom you believe might balk or cause trouble cannot be given work duties, nor can they be given access to the Tyrennian's technical schematics. I am sorry, but I cannot be flexible on this. My first duty and responsibility is to the Tyrennian and her crew. I have no doubts about Myitt, and Myitt trusts you. That's good enough for me. But sometimes there isn't time to filter orders through multiple people. If there is a crisis situation, I must have your complete assurances that everyone who has been entrusted with responsibilities will follow my orders without question or delay. Don't take me wrong, I don't presume to lead your people, but I do lead the Tyrennian, and if anyone is entrusted with responsibilities aboard my ship, they will have to accept my leadership faithfully whilst on-duty.>
Ossanlin notices the drag in the human's step and the darkness around his eyes. He probably hadn't slept since Corvus, and likely hadn't slept well there either. He doesn't bring up the controller's apparent exhaustion, trusting the human and Yeerk to know their own needs and limits. <I'm going to be completely honest with you...there aren't enough of us left to keep the Tyrennian flying.> He pauses a moment in his stride, glancing around the whole dome before turning his main eyes forward and taking up his leisurely stride once again. <Oh, she'll fly for a while, but without more hands, critical testing and maintenance will fall behind. Systems will slowly deteriorate until something irreparable happens.> He turns his main eyes back on Keslin before speaking again. <The simple truth is, we need you and your people. Of course, you still need to regroup and reform your governing body. Your course of action should be decided by your people. I will say that I am...fervently...ho peful that you will decide to work together with us. If you do not...well, I suppose we'll have to figure out something else.> Ossanlin glances forward again, still keeping his pace slow enough for the human controller to keep up comfortably.
Ossanlin eyesmiles a bit, moving on to another topic. <Yes, your Niko does have quite a mind. But what I meant was that all of our neurological data regarding humans says that they only use a small fraction of their physical cognitive capacity. I would assume that Niko has managed to utilize some of that untapped potential.>
~
Anir bows the top half of his body and tail-salutes. <Thank you, Prince Commander.> He makes his way off the bridge, followed by the other two officers that had been on night-duty, heading to the Dome for a quick feeding before making his way to quarters to cleanse and rest.
-
Serid's eyes turn to Enorryma as she enters the bridge. Already standing at his security post, Serid straightens his back and salutes. Waiting until the night shift has vacated the now relatively empty bridge, he murmurs, <Greetings, Prince Commander.>
Illim sighs, watching Efaen and Claxter walk away from him. Brushing off his jeans, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks to Terenia. "Hey," he murmurs. "It's in the room, apparently. So much happened yesterday, I didn't even realize they'd dumped it there." He tilts his head back towards where he at least thinks his new quarters are.
-
Enorryma returns Serid's greeting. <I hope the morning crew has rested well; several of the human passengers have had a difficult night, and diplomacy with them will be easiest for our Captain if the crew can present a unified and professional front to them.>
-
Serid nods, hesitates then asks, <If I may ask... were you among those who had a difficult night, Prince Commander? I know you had been planning on assisting the human woman.>
-
Enorryma nods back. <The birth was difficult, and one of the young humans did not survive the night. Our facilities were not adequate to their needs. Human infants appear to be severely altricial, especially compared to what is known of most species on their planet.>
-
Aetheas makes his way out into the dome, marveling, as he always does, at how beautifully realistic the representation of the homeworld seems. The hologram technology is impressive, and the ability to keep a partial-ecosystem thriving aboard a spacecraft, especially a combat spacecraft, is certainly not something that would come easily. And the dome is just one part of this huge, complex ship, every piece of which has been carefully designed by the greatest minds the Andalites have to offer. Altogether, it's a remarkably coherent, well thought-out vessel. It's not perfect, though, and he's sure he could do better, given time. But the engineers that designed this Mark III hadn't been complete morons, obviously.
He'd asked a couple of his fellow crew members before one had been able to tell him that he'd find Ossanlin in the dome. The Warrior who'd finally known had told him with a sneer. He's gotten used to that, of course. He knows that, to most of the remaining crew, he's known as either the vecol or the Aristh- he's not sure more than a handful even know his name. He'd walked off, smirking. Let them make fun of him now. He'll be one of this ship's officers before long.
Ossanlin seems pretty caught up with the rebels these days, but surely he'll be able to spare a quick word. Gazing out across the dome, he spots the Captain walking with one of them... Chris, he thinks, recognizing the face from his research on these rebels. And presumably Keslin 574 as well. He nearly calls out, then reminds himself that insubordination won't get him anywhere. As the pair approaches him, he elects instead to stand at attention... or as close as he can stand to "attention" with his deformed tail. He can wait for a moment of the Captain's time.
-
Keshin can take the hint from Claxter that they should not involve themselves in the problems the ship's inhabitants are having. He wasn't certain what Claxter had against Terenia precisely, but he was now fairly sure it existed because Efaen was Claxter's friend.
<One heck of a friend. She doesn' even look at 'im an' he's givin' sorries to her.>
<Sometimes kindness is not returned.>
Keshin wanders up to Illim and states, "We'll be following you toward the protein storage. We're running low on energy, and energy is crucial right now. We only have four vials of medicine left."
-
Terenia's eyebrows furrow a little when Keshin joins her and Illim. "Why should we be wasting valuable supplies on you?" she demands. She seems to have completely forgotten her recent desire for Keshin to finish her off -- Efaen and Claxter have effectively jarred her out of her own self-pity, and she is left only with anger.
Keslin sighs a little, rumpling his blonde locks. "I can't guarantee you allegience from everyone right off the bat. Some will listen, and some won't. There are people here who need strangers to prove their loyalty. Especially Andalite strangers. Which makes finding the rendezvous points all the more important. The more of our people we have here, safe, the more willing of a crew you will have." He hesitates, then adds, "Assuming we decide to stay on with the Tyrennian long term."
As they walk he notices several Andalites they past stand at attention with their tail blades. Something about the gesture is incredibly unsettling to Keslin. He can't imagine making his followers salute him every time he passed. In fact, the idea is downright laughable. His tired gaze meets one of these Andalites -- a male with a somewhat oddly shaped tail. He meets the Andalite's gaze steadily for a moment, then turns his attention back to Ossanlin. The last thing he wants is any Andalite to think that he is intimidated by their presence.
-
Efaen was silent. What had he said that made her suddenly go stiff again? Then it hit him. She had complimented him! <I appreciate the compliment. I do. Honestly I just wasn't in my best mood for a minute, but I do appreciate what you said. Kindness isn't always rewarded in the military, though if we didn't open ourselves up at least a little, both ways, this war would only end when entire species were wiped out.>
<You know, since I met Prince Ossanlin, I realized as unusual as it is, it's possible to train my arms to do something besides hold a dracon. Perhaps you would know some arm exercises that would be useful?> Maybe if he focused a bit on one of the Human body's strengths, she would be more willing to talk about it than possible Andalite tail exercises. Though he did wish he could spar with her. Running, tail sparring, almost like a dance.
He tried not to think too far on that. Yes he admitted he had feelings for her, but he couldn't actually tell her that yet. She barely took to him as it was.
-
Efaen is quiet for a moment. <You asked about Tora,> she says, ignoring the comment about arm exercises. <She was a nothlit, trapped in human morph, though from what I have been told that was a recent development. She spent a good amount of her time with the rebels in her own form. I believe she was one of the very first recruits.> Her main eyes lift briefly to Claxter's. <She told me of the Andalite homeworld, and the Andalite people, yes. She taught me their rituals, and their customs. She told me it was an important thing to know. As important as understanding the Yeerks on base.>
-
<One of the first recruits? I'm not sure I understand that. What caused her to become a nothlit? A mission gone wrong?>
No response on the arm exercises. He had genuinely hoped she'd give some tip, but he wouldn't press it. Or maybe bringing it up later would show her he was being serious. She didn't think he was serious about using his Human morph either.
<I'm sure she would feel any Andalite should know about her people. I'm just sorry your new experiences were so negative.>
He wondered about the exact details Tora spoke of, and what made her join the rebels.>
-
Ossanlin nods at Keslin. <This is understandable, and I do not hold it against any of them. They simply cannot be entrusted with work duties or sensitive information, that is all. Someone who doesn't follow an order, no matter their reason for being contrary, can and will do more harm than good. But if you feel that there are some who will follow my orders, at least in the short-term, I would welcome the assistance.>
Ossanlin notices Aetheas standing at attention not far from the main concourse that leads to the bridge. He nods at the young aristh, returning the salutation. Aetheas had wanted to go along on the Corvus raid badly, but the necessity of Hork-Bajir morphs had kept him out of the action. Life has not been particularly kind to Aetheas, and Ossanlin sympathizes with him. He still needs to learn restraint, though he'd gotten much better at that. He gestures for the aristh to walk along with Keslin and himself as he seems to want to speak with Ossanlin about something.
-
Serid lowers his eyestalks and he nods, a gesture picked up from his many years nothlitized in human form. <I am saddened to hear that,> he tells Enorryma. <It a tragedy, to be certain, to lose so much at one time--especially an innocent. Please let me know if any of the crew members can be of assistance.>
Illim blinks in surprise at Keshin's announcement that he and Joanne will be joining their breakfast scavenging party, but then Terenia's words make his eyebrows lower. Looking between the two human women a moment, he shakes his head. "Because the alternative is letting them starve." He gives Terenia a ghost of his usual ****y smirk. "I may be a terrorist, but I'm not coldhearted. C'mon," he waves them on as he turns and starts towards his quarters again.
-
Aetheas locks eyes with the rebel for a moment. While it's true that he feels he knows humans and Yeerks quite well based on his reading, he's never actually spoken to either one. He searches Chris's face for a moment, trying to get some sense of what's going on inside that skull. He's suddenly a little apprehensive at the thought of actually trying to speak with these strangers.
He's so caught up in his thoughts that he almost misses it when Ossanlin gestures for him to walk with them. His hearts jump, but he quickly settles them. There's no way he's going to let show that he's still a bit intimidated by the Captain. Ossanlin's always been kind enough, it's true- in fact, Aetheas still isn't totally sure what to do with the fact that Ossanlin doesn't seem put-off by his very presence- but this is still the War-Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel. He supposes he'll get used to that someday.
He falls into step to the side and a little behind Ossanlin, impatiently remaining respectfully silent.
-
Ossanlin turns his main eyes forward, but quirks an eyebrow due to Aetheas's proper behavior. <<Good morning, Aetheas. I appreciate your decorum. Is there something you wish to speak with me about?>> Ossanlin doesn't look at Aetheas with his main eyes in an attempt to keep from making either party feel unwelcome or ignored.
-
Aetheas looks towards Ossanlin with one stalk-eye, eying Chris with the other. <<Captain-Prince,>> he begins, <<I... there have been rumors. The double-jump...>> he seems unsure of how to ask what he wants to ask. <<Some of the crew are saying it's because of Sector Seven. I wanted to know for sure. Is it true?>> Both stalk-eyes are trained on Ossanlin now, searching his posture, his demeanor.
-
Ossanlin nods, maintaining his easy pace. He doesn't allow his concern to show through his demeanor. Part of the burden of command was bearing the weight of worry. Now of all times, Ossanlin has to maintain an outwardly calm, composed, and confident facade. The immediate danger is past, anyhow. No need for immediate concern.
He directs a stalk-eye at Aetheas. <<Yes, I'm afraid so. I can't say that I didn't expect it...Corvus is their facility after all. I certainly didn't expect them to find us, however...the fact that they did concerns me more than anything, though the fact that they didn't pursue us further is heartening. The immediate threat has passed for the time being.>>
-
Aetheas's eyes narrow, <<That means they do exist,>> he says, as much to himself as to Ossanlin. <<I've always heard it said that they seek out the best and the brightest students for their ranks. And my test scores were...>> he stops himself from boasting <<among the highest the academy's ever seen. So...>> he pauses for a moment.
<Why didn't they ever contact me?> he yells, forgetting to keep his thoughts private. He instantly regrets his words, hoping they've come out as a sneer- the idiots had passed up something special with him- but he's afraid that his tone may have been more that of a hurt, petulant child. He winces, training his eyes on Ossanlin in anticipation of his reaction.
-
Ossanlin's eyes tighten as he continues to trot along with Keslin and Aetheas. <<Restrain yourself, aristh. You are a graduated initiate of the Military Academy. You need to act the part, especially around the rebels.>>
He pauses, expression stern, though he keeps his main eyes forward. <<Firstly, if Sector Seven never made contact with you, count yourself lucky. They're much more than they seem, and all the worse for it. Secondly, Sector Seven doesn't recruit out of the Academy...that's not nearly subtle enough for them. They probably would have made contact with you eventually, and I hope you'd have been intelligent enough to reason out how to avoid their hooks.>>
-
Aetheas's stalk eyes droop slightly as Ossanlin reprimands him. Somehow the Captain's patient tolerance is worse than the 'swift penalties' of his previous commander, in its own way.
<<I wouldn't have gone to them!>> he says defensively, then realizes a moment later that he's not nearly as sure of that as he sounds. <<At least... I don't think so.>>
One stalk eye twists back to eye his deformed tail. He still hates looking at it, but sometimes he needs a reminder... maybe there's a reason Sector Seven never came to find him. Maybe they never would have.
He's heard the stories, of course- about how Sector Seven controls the electorate and the people, about their greed and their corruption and the way they direct so many of the major things that happen on the homeworld. Much like the existence of Sector Seven itself, he's never really paid attention until these last few days, figuring they were nothing more than tall tales Andalites told to scare each other.
<<I want to fix our broken world,>> he says in his strangely disconnected, pensive way. <<I want to make things better for the People. Is it...>> he stops, not sure how to phrase what he wants to say. <<Sector Seven is supposed to be... powerful. If they'd come to me before I met you... maybe I would have joined them.>> His thought-speak voice drops to just above a whisper, <<I think I would have tried to make a difference.>> The thought seems to be a particularly hard one for him, and he stares at the ground as he walks, as if he's afraid he's done something wrong.
-
Ossanlin continues toward the bridge. The hologram begins to fade as they near the doorway to the main concourse leading to the bridge. He remains silent for a few moments before speaking again.
<<Aetheas...you're young...impetuous. You lack control and restraint. Despite that, I can sympathize with you. I wanted the same thing after I graduated the Academy. Not to be contacted by Sector Seven, but to make a difference. Like you, I saw through the propaganda...I saw it for what it was.>> He pauses, still moving toward the doorway, before speaking again. <<It...is...possible to make a difference from within Sector Seven, but it's very difficult. Sector Seven has several individuals who want to make a difference, and they think they're doing good work. Making a difference is good, Aetheas, but how you go about making it is just as important...maybe more-so.>>
Ossanlin continues into the main concourse leading toward the bridge, the smooth off-white and silver walls brightening a bit as the recessed lighting slowly shifts toward day-lighting with the natural progression of the ship's simulated circadian rhythm. Another andalite walks by heading toward the dome, pausing to tail-salute before continuing on. <<I'm glad to hear that you want to make a difference Aetheas...I wouldn't have asked you to accompany us on this unorthodox mission if I hadn't already suspected as much.>>
Ossanlin doesn't voice the other reason he'd asked Aetheas to come on the mission...the connection. After Aetheas had joined the Tyrennian, Ossanlin had developed a sort of protective attachment to Aetheas...something like the bond shared between an older and younger brother. He knew that if he'd denied Aetheas the opportunity to come along, not only would he have lost Aetheas's considerable intellectual potential, but Aetheas himself would've been thrown back to the military wolves from whence he'd come.
Ossanlin had once developed a similar relationship with Claxter, who would most-certainly have been treated as a vecol had he returned to the Homeworld with his "Abandonment of Duty" status. And now Claxter was coming into his own...developing into a fine officer with a strong sense of duty and ethics. Ossanlin eye-smiles a bit to himself at that thought.
<<We're going to make a difference, Aetheas. When we work successfully with the rebels to fight the Empire and Sector Seven, we'll show the People an example of what we're capable of together. We'll show them that Andalite, Yeerk, Human, and Hork-Bajir can work together, and to a much greater end than any one of our species could achieve alone.>>
-
Keslin falls silent as the young Andalite walks with them to the bridge. He keeps his eyes on the ground as they walk, not even speaking to Chris. His own thoughts are rife with a sort of exhaustion that is unique to a creature that does not sleep, a sort of drifting silence where his own memories and those of his host intermingle.
It is only with some difficulty that he pulls himself from his silence at Aetheas' open outburst. He glances at the Andalite, his eyes drifting to the deformed tail, then turns his attention back to the ground.
<<Quiet, eh?>> Chris offers.
<<I believe they are speaking to one another privately,>> Keslin murmurs. <<I am not going to intrude. It is enough to know that the young one is a bit of an emotional creature.>>
<<How do you know?>>
<<Look at his stance, the way he carries himself. His facial expressions,>> Keslin murmurs, glancing briefly back at the young aristh. <<Even if he didn't have that little outburst, it's plain enough. Even for a face as alien as an Andalite's. He might be useful, down the road.>>
Chris doesn't respond to that directly, but his thoughts are conflicted. There had always been a certain lack of discipline to the pirates. They listened to Chris and Keslin, but they were given the freedom to improvise when necessary. A little emotional instability had, at times, been their saving grace. Of course, at other times it had nearly destroyed them.
"Ossanlin," Keslin murmurs, waiting for what he presumes is a pause in the conversation, though it is impossible to tell due to the silent nature of it. "If you truly want to earn the trust of the rebels you will have to allow us to convene amongst ourselves once we reach the first rendezvous point. We will need a place to meet, alone, away from any Andalite surveillance. They need to know they can trust myself, Myitt, and the rest of the surviving Council before they can begin to think about trusting you."
Terenia sets her jaw and glares at Keshin, but she doesn't otherwise protest. Instead, she folds her arms firmly across her chest and follows Illim, scowling at the ground.
<I do not know why she became a nothlit,> Efaen responds. <I imagine it had something to do with her mates, Reven and James. James was human, and Reven had infested him. For them to pursue a relationship, to procreate as they did, Tora had to be human as well.> She shrugs her Andalite shoulders, main eyes dropping to the grass.
-
Claxter was surprised that an Andalite would not only want to be in a relationship with a controller, but also nothlitize herself to bear a child. <That's certainly surprising.> He said, unable to conceal it. How far removed from her people must she have been to join the rebellion and become Human, giving up everything for a Yeerk and his host? He felt sorry that she was the closest thing Efaen had to her people. <I suppose I'm not one to judge.> He was afraid to ask if Tora had ever let a Yeerk in her head. Without being mind wiped first. He was starting to think the less he knew, the better. He couldn't imagine himself becoming Human for a Human girl, but as long as Efaen considered herself more Human than Andalite, he dare not say that to her.
He noticed her hang her head. <Is something bothering you?>
He noticed what time it was, and that his shift should be starting any minute. <I think my shift is about to start, and I should probably check on the Aristh I've been training. Though since he was working on the brudge last night, he might want some rest. It's kind of funny that someone of aristh rank would be on the bridge at all, but he's a smart individual. Very hard working. You are, of course, welcome to come with me if you want.>
-
Ossanlin turns his main eyes back on Keslin as he speaks. <If that is what you require. Would your people truly believe that you would lead them into incarceration or oblivion if under duress?> Ossanlin's question is serious, though he allows just a touch of muted incredulity into his tone. Of course, the more-obvious danger would be that of Andalites acquiring, morphing, and impersonating key rebellion members in order to bait the others. Perhaps that was all that Keslin had meant, but his answer might give a little more insight into his relationship with the other rebels.
-
Aetheas walks for a moment in silence, thinking through Ossanlin's words. He's nowhere near as certain as Ossanlin sounds that this crew can 'make a difference' in the way Aetheas would like, but at least they're trying. At least here, with this captain, on this ship, he might have the chance to do something. Elsewhere, he'd probably just end up fighting every step of the way for his own right to be viewed as a person.
The Captain seems to think that their strength lies in the cooperation of species, but Aetheas isn't convinced of that, either. He sweeps a stalk eye over Chris's body- there were humans with great things to say, but how such a frail-looking, bipedal creature could make them stronger... that remained to be seen. The rebels here still seemed so... separate from the crew. So alien.
As if to justify his thinking, Keslin asks Ossanlin about a rebel meeting in private, without Andalites present. It seems he's not the only one feeling uncomfortable with the situation into which they've all been thrust. He wonders if Ossanlin's talk of 'working together' might just be a distant pipedream.
Not that he'd ever voice that.
<<I hope we can make as big a difference as we need to,>> he finally says to Ossanlin, quietly. <<I hope I can...>> he pauses, unsure how to finish. <<If I may take my leave of you, Captain?>>
-
Ossanlin nods a stalk-eye at Aetheas, a gesture that any Andalite would recognize as acquiescence. <<Of course, Aetheas...report to your Command-Warrior.>>
-
Aetheas does not turn to leave immediately. Instead, he glances at Chris with a stalk eye and says to Ossanlin, <<Captain-Prince, I... I heard that one of the human young didn't survive. I didn't know any human rituals, so I... I performed our ritual. I said the words. But it wasn't an Andalite...>> Aetheas's stalk eyes search Ossanlin's stalk eyes, his posture. He's not sure how to ask what he really wants to ask. Was that right? Was I hasty? Should I have learned the proper ritual first? Should I be mourning at all?
-
Ossanlin nods with his stalk eye again. <<I'm glad you performed a ritual for the young one. I'm sure Tess, Keslin, and Chris would be thankful. Compassion is important, and it makes me incredibly happy that you are willing to show compassion for a being who is not an Andalite. It is especially meaningful that you performed the ritual in private, because it means that your compassion is genuine.>> Ossanlin turns his main eyes on Aetheas and smiles, nodding. <<I'm glad that your view on these matters is growing. As soon as time and circumstance permits, we'll get you your first crescent.>>
-
Keslin is silent for a moment. "No, they believe that I will do what is in their best interest," he says finally. "But I have learned that accomplishing such things without a certain amount of transparency leads to...issues." He lifts his shoulders in a small shrug. "I have made mistakes, as any leader does. Through those mistakes I have learned that it is best to be open with them about my hopes, and my concerns. I think a lack of an Andalite presence will help them believe I am speaking for myself, not just puppeting your wishes."
-
Aetheas is torn between pride at Ossanlin's words- it's about time he was given a real rank- and continued uncertainty at his actions, in spite of the War-Prince's reassurance.
In reaction, he opts to do nothing more than nod a stalk eye at Ossanlin, <<Thank you, Captain-Prince.>> He gives the closest he can manage to a tail-salute and turns around, heading back down the corridor. He's pretty sure he saw Command-Warrior Claxter in the dome.
-
Claxter was scanning the dome when he saw Aetheas come out, likely looking for him. <Arish Aetheas! Over here!> He said, walking towards him. <How was bridge duty? Do you have energy for some training?> Claxter had a new idea to try to help him with tail fighting, but rarely pushed tail fighting when they trained. Aetheas may never be a great tail fighter, and Claxter wouldn't blame him if he decided to just train in shooting and flying. Still, he always insisted on training his tail anyway. It was admirable.
-
Ossanlin turns his main eyes back on Keslin, remaining silent for a moment before speaking again. <I see. Trust must begin somewhere...I suppose I'm just as good a place as anywhere for it to start.> He watches Aetheas go with a stalk eye as he continues. <I have noticed some divisions...some rebels seem to take their cues from you instead of Myitt. When you say your people, I trust that you mean all of the rebels, Myitt included?>
The bridge doors slide open as Ossanlin and Keslin approach, and Ossanlin steps across the threshold into the well-lit, spacious, uncluttered bridge space. The entire forward view-wall is mostly-polarized to cut down the glaring whiteness of Z-Space. Ossanlin notes Enorryma at the helm. Until Claxter is trained, Enorryma would be on the helm...there's simply no other option at present.
He nods a stalk-eye in Serid's direction as well, the only other member of the day-duty crew besides himself and Enorryma currently at station.
-
"You're rather observant," Keslin muses, glancing around as he follows Ossanlin onto the bridge. If the abundance of Andalites, comparatively, bothers him he is careful to keep his expression neutral. "A portion of the rebels here served with my rebellion -- a separate rebellion from Reven's -- for a number of years. We operated for eight or nine in total before we joined with Reven's group. I was effectively their leader, and even after the merge they always looked to me before Reven. Of course, Reven and I..." He trails off, swallowing, composing himself. "Reven and I were very close. We began the rebellion together, years ago, before I split off and formed my own. There were a few instances of my rebels not trusting Reven and his judgment, but for the most part, they knew that a command from Reven was as good as a command from me."
-
Ossanlin nods slightly. <Thank you for the honesty.> He doesn't mention the fact that Keslin hadn't actually answered his question about this private meeting of his. <In truth, I had little to go on, but it was perhaps the only logical conclusion. You've been trying to place yourself into a leadership role since Corvus. Combine that with the other small observances...the occasional private conversation between you and a few select rebels, the subtle deferrals...it all said that you were a leader in the rebellion, and that perhaps some of those in the rebellion followed you more-surely than Reven or Myitt. I certainly did not suspect an alternate rebellion, however. I trust the reason for your division was not one that will cause issue? Or that the reason for said division had already been resolved, since you'd joined back together?>
-
Keshin stares at Illim rather gratefully and says, "....thanks. Terenia dislikes me. We tried to kill her on the Galaxy's Edge Space Bar on her sister's orders. Nearly killed the captain too, who for reasons unknown to me chose to save her life." The full weight of the actual event then hits him. It was more than that to them. A rebel died that night, too---and many other people were severely injured. "....if it helps, I maintain that that was one of the worst decisions we've ever made."
<Th' way I remember, you were the only one makin' any choice there. I just did it.>
<I didn't hear you objecting at the time.>
<I'm used to you havin' more sense.>
<.....>
"But never mind. How is the rebellion holding up?" Keshin says a bit more quietly, with more tact and respect. "....I've heard that there was an unexpected death."
-
"Ah...no, it will not cause an issue," Keslin says, unconsciously flexing his trembling fingers. "The division was between myself and Reven, none of the others. I recruited my rebellion from scratch, and most never even met Reven until he and I decided to unite our groups. They look to me because I am the only person they have ever looked to." He hitches a shoulder, deliberately not answering Ossanlin's final question.
-
Enorryma heard Ossanlin's hooves on the bridge floor before her stalk-eyes swiveled toward him. Until the rest of the morning crew arrived, her whole attention was going to be divided across the first level consoles.
<Captain on deck!> she called to the bridge in general, snapping a smart tail-salute to Ossanlin. <<Sir, the previous shift said that we are ahead of schedule due to favourable Z-space vortices.>>
-
Ossanlin nods. <Very well, I won't press you on the matter further right now.> He gestures around the bridge. <This is the control-deck. You saw it yesterday, but I doubt you had much time to look around. Feel free to use the Auxiliary Console to research any non-secured information that might interest you. You can also watch the ship's telemetry and operations if you so desire, though there isn't much to watch in Z-Space.>
Ossanlin shifts his main eyes to Enorryma as she announces him, according to procedure. He returns her tail-salute. <Thank you Prince Commander, that is welcome news. What is our updated estimated time of arrival?> He trots up to his station and brings up the console's holographic display, running through his routine morning checklist.
Esarvit trots onto the bridge, tail-saluting before descending one of the ramps and walking up to the Sensors station, bringing up the console's holographic display.
-
<<I am updating your console with the revised course and arrival time now.>>
-
Ossanlin nods. <Thank you, Enorryma.> He pulls up the appropriate display. <I see...approximately 16:23. Have you noted any abnormalities or faults with the Tyrennian or her operation?>
-
<I have not, up to this point. Z-Space has been abnormally... normal... lately, so until we encounter some more anomalous vortices, it will be difficult to detect any as-yet undetected aberrations in her handling and systems.>
-
Ossanlin nods. <Very good. Systems appear to be within standard specifications.> Ossanlin brushes his fingers over the light-touch console's surface, bringing up the personnel manifest, checking for priority one officer reports before turning a stalk eye on Serid. <<Command Warrior, what has your staff reported regarding the security-priority rebels?>>
-
Aetheas finally spots Claxter when he yells, and turns to trot towards the Command-Warrior. He'd surpass Claxter's skill soon enough, and until then, he may as well learn what useful things his 'superior' did know.
<Uneventful,> Aetheas said in response to Claxter's question. He stretches, <I believe I could do with some training. Did you have a specific for me today, or did you wish for me to choose the subject again?>
-
<An aristh finds himself working on the bridge of a dome ship that isn't even standard issue, and he says it's uneventful.> Claxter couldn't help laughing. It felt good, actually. <Thanks Aetheas. I needed a good laugh.>
<So, training. I have an idea for tail fighting. Since your tail favors your right side, I have considered a fighting style that keeps your enemy on that side. Strafing around if necessary, but making sure the opponent remains on your best side. If you like the idea, we can try that for this session.>
-
Illim raises his eyebrows at Keshin and gives a brief, humorless laugh. "Well, you won't be trying to kill anyone here, least of all Terenia, yeah? And... we're not doing so hot, but at least we're out of that damned prison." He sizes him up as they continue making their way to his and Myitt's new quarters, glancing back at Terenia once. "You holding up alright?"
Serid raises his own tail in salute to Ossanlin. <<Good morning, sir,>> he murmurs privately. <<All are accounted for and causing no trouble at this time. I might suggest their leaders implement a routine for them before long, however, as it may help stabilize their more... unstable members.>>
-
<<Good, that is welcome news.>> Ossanlin sweeps the display over a few pages and checks over the Z-Drive's wave-synchronization. <<That is an excellent suggestion. I believe that Keslin would agree with you. He has inquired about work duties for some of his people...I have told him that their assistance would be welcome under the proper circumstances. If you are confident that we have enough security staff to keep eyes on those as well, perhaps we might continue forward with that idea.>>
-
Keshin glances over Illim with a cursory interest. He knew from some combination of secondhand gossip and encounters with Myitt that Illim was a fairly important Yeerk to both his old..."friend" and the rebellion. Yet truth be told, Keshin knew almost nothing about him. He looked like a quiet, unassuming and tired intellectual. This look about him was even present despite his peculiarities and the harrowing circumstances they had suffered through.
"Anything would be better than that prison," said Keshin in an emphatic tone that showed that he sympathized. "We got caught up in the mess ourselves. It wasn't our intention to trouble your group at all." This wasn't strictly true---Keshin and Joanne had come to scavenge what remained of what he thought was a battle between the Rebels and the Empire. Yet the white lie was better than that truth.
Keshin glances at Myitt's door, a quieter look crossing through his eyes. "She's been in there a long time, hasn't she? They. Myitt and Tara."
-
Aetheas frowns, trying to understand what Claxter finds so funny. The Command-Warrior has a sense of humor that Aetheas finds difficult to follow. Maybe it's a remnant of the 'bar' he mentions on occasion.
At Claxter's suggestion, he thinks for a moment, then says, <Yes. Yes, I believe that could work.> He smiles at Claxter, <This could be fun.> He assumes a ready stance, <I am ready to begin immediately if you are.>
What he doesn't say is that he's not... entirely convinced of Claxter's ability to teach a fighting style that he's never used himself.
-
Well, Claxter had come up with the idea, and Aetheas was willing to try. That was the easy part. The hard part was actually making it work, and it's not like he was an expert in unorthodox tail fighting styles. He wasn't even sure if there was an official right sided style. Maybe a better teacher would have looked that up before telling his student about it. No time to worry about that now.
He assumed a stance, standing at an angle, and holding his tail to the side. In a typical battle, the tail is held high with intention of bringing it over the head or shoulders to strike. The lower part of the tail would bend forwards while the upper part bends backwards to apply tension. For this session, he changed the angle of the lower part of his tail to favor striking on the right side.
He made his strike, which would stop a few inches away from Aetheas' neck, so he could attempt to parry or block it.
-
Aetheas barely has a chance to get his tail up in time to parry Claxter's swing. The Command-Warrior might not be the quickest Choolala in the jungle, but his tail is another story. Aetheas grunts as pain stabs through his tail- he's used to that, and doesn't like to talk about it- and manages to turn Claxter's strike aside. He takes a step to his left, away from Claxter, as he counters, sending his own swing at Claxter's torso, intending to hit the Command-Warrior with the flat of his blade. Gently, of course.
-
Claxter noticed Aetheas grunting. He had done that before during tail fighting, and Claxter wondered if the training was doing worse for his tail than anything. Even without morphing ability, he wondered if Aetheas' family had the money to look into surgery. He didn't want to suggest using pain meds just so the guy could use his tail easier, especially since surely he and his family would think of simple solutions like this. Hopefully the training sessions wouldn't just eventually destroy any viability his tail had.
He stepped left when Aetheas did, as a defensive maneuver to add distance while he countered. When his tail was pushed away, he brought it up to parry vertically when Aetheas struck. Claxter came down to lock blades and force the Aristh's tail to the side.
-
Aetheas winces as Claxter turns his blade aside. He steps daintily back, out of Claxter's tail range, bringing his own tail blade up into a defensive position. He walks forward, keeping Claxter on his right side, circling the Command-Warrior's position. He keeps his main eyes locked on Claxter's own, and one stalk eye on Claxter's tailblade, as he's been instructed, waiting for Claxter to make a move.
-
Claxter circled Aetheas as well, looking for any sign of inattentiveness. Any opening to strike. He suddenly rushed forward, attempting Some diagonal slashes towards his torso and upper legs, then darted over to Aetheas' left side to see how fast he could turn to keep claxter on his good side.
-
Aetheas deflects the slashes Claxter aims at his torso, but falls off-balance-- he's not used to standing sideways to take blows. He regains his balance just as Claxter darts around to his left side-- he yells in frustration. He should have seen that coming. Aetheas rears up on his hind legs to pivot more quickly. He swings his tail behind himself, low at Claxter's legs, using the momentum of his turn to assist his awkward strike.
-
Claxter brought his tail up reflexively when Aetheas raised his body, but then the Aristh swung his tail low, and he couldn't bring it down in time. He raised his leg, but Aetheas still got him below the knee. He stumbled a bit, and made another strike to his side just to give him a second to regain balance.
<First strike goes to you. Good job.>
-
Keslin watches the tail-salutes of the bridge occupants with a small smile.
<<Even at a quarter of their usual size they still act like a bunch of jumped up soldiers,>> Chris complains.
<<Their militia is important, a is routine and honor,>> Keslin murmurs. <<I daresay our ragtag group, and our casual approach to a system of leadership, is a bit foreign to them. Some of them probably think we are downright uncivilized.>>
He glances down at his as-of-yet unbathed, uncleaned form. <<Perhaps they have reason to think as much,>> he adds dryly.
Leaving Ossanlin to content with his Andalite crew, Keslin takes his advice and circles the deck slowly, familiarizing himself with the layout and the consoles. After a full lap he approaches one of the auxilary consoles, pulling up the database and beginning to flip through what is available to him haphazardly.
<<This is one of those moments when Aya's memory would be useful,>> he murmurs to himself.
-
Aetheas blocks Claxter's swing with a wince, the force of it combined with his already-precarious balance sending him stumbling a few steps away from Claxter. When he finally regains his balance, he nods a stalk-eye at Claxter in acknowledgement of the praise, but he looks unhappy. <I left myself open to attack. I only caught you by surprise.>
Aetheas takes a second to collect himself and then turns his full attention to Claxter again. He bolts, rushing up to Claxter, swinging high while trying to keep the Command-Warrior on his right.
-
At least he didn't let the small victory go to his head. It was true he had been off balance, and perhaps Claxter should have pushed the advantage if he was able. Still, he didn't want to discourage Aetheas too much. He braced for the attack, blocking the blow, and attempting to test his tail strength against Aetheas'.
-
<<Very well, sir,>> Serid replies with another salute. <<And yes, I am confident we are capable of maintaining the peace. Please alert me if you would like my assistance with the process of integrating them into the ship's functions.>> His stalk eyes track Chris and Keslin's movements even as his main eyes remain on Ossanlin.
"Yeah?" Illim raises his eyebrows as he stops beside Keshin. "If you weren't trying to trouble us... what were you doing there? Surely not coming to save the day." Then he frowns. "Myitt? I dunno, she left the room with Terenia and me this morning, but I haven't seen her in a bit." He orders the door open and steps inside. It's empty.
-
When Claxter blocks his strike, Aetheas manages to hold his tail against Claxter's strength for a moment as he rushes by, but is soon hit with a familiar stab of pain and yelps. He retracts his tail and ducks his body, attempting to pivot, to 'roll' away from Claxter's range-- a technique he's been working on himself, out of necessity, based on something he once read... somewhere... He turns to face Claxter, steps forward, and swings again, this time around his right shoulder.
-
Aetheas was trying a frontal attack this time, and the shorter range allowed Claxter to simply step back out of his range, but was still in range to strike Aetheas. He brought his tail around his left shoulder, opposite from Aetheas' strike, to aim for his neck once again.
<I'm afraid we really need to do something to help you fight longer without being in pain. Have you explored any options in the past?>
-
"We got an inaccurate description of what was happening over our own channels," said Keshin as the two humans and Yeerks entered Myitt's room. "We thought that the fight was between you and the Empire over some rock, not your actual base with the Andalites involved. If we had known what was going on, we would have never come at all."
Myitt's room was...perplexingly empty. Hmm. She'd been gone that long?
<Weird. Ah, well. She's probably tryin' to think stuff over. Just like us.>
<What happened there was hardest on these rebels, Joanne. We should remember that when we talk to them. Myitt's brother is dead.>
Keshin didn't step in the room immediately. He realized what a violation that would be. "The food is in her room, then?"
-
Aetheas's swing carries his tail forward, missing Claxter by a mile, and he can't bring it back fast enough to stop Claxter's strike. He skids to a halt, Claxter's blade inches from his throat.
<I'm fine,> he states defensively, frustrated with his own performance. He turns and trots a few paces away from Claxter, then turns to face him. <Let's go again.>
-
It was hard for Claxter to know how far he should push an obviously touchy subject with Aetheas. He only wanted to help, but maybe he couldn't. He just didn't know. If his tail was longer and more flexible, there were ways to strike without leaving yourself open, but he could tell the arish was just doing the best with what he had.
He took a battle stance once again. <Alright. Come at me again.>
-
Aetheas dances forward, keeping Claxter on his right, and sends a series of quick slashes at Claxter's torso, looking for any opening.
-
Claxter parried and dodged the attacks, then went in for a feint, trying to lure him to the right, then attacking quickly from the right. He kept his body moving, trying to keep Aetheas guessing what he was going to do.
-
Aetheas attempts to block Claxter's feint, realizing an instant too late what the Command Warrior is doing. He dodges away from Claxter's tail just in time, and brings his right side to face Claxter. He swings his tail forward, then back, then forwards again at Claxter; wide, powerful swings at the edge of his range.
-
Claxter tried to block his attacks and maneuver to counter, but now he was doing his best to stay out of range. Claxter tried to get him to back into a tree, hoping he might not spare a stalk eye to look behind him.
-
Illim turns to look at Keshin from inside the room. "Our room," he corrects, beckoning him in. "And what did you plan to do there, once you arrived, if it had been a skirmish between the Empire and the rebellion?" He frowns, peering at him through his warped glasses, then turns and moves to the crates of protein that had been stored on the far side of the quarters.
-
Aetheas blocks and parries, again and again, keeping his right side to his Command-Warrior, looking for an opportunity. Claxter's attack is relentless. Claxter's strategy nearly works, but Aetheas happens to turn a stalk eye and look behind him at the last moment, before running into the tree.
<Ah!> He curses himself for his carelessness and jumps forward, parallel to Claxter, but trips over a root. Though he stumbles to his knees, he manages to keep his tail up and ready, and his good side towards Claxter, as he struggles to regain his footing.
-
Claxter attempted to strike the backside of his knee to make him fall all the way down, while still trying to keep out of range of his tail. Aetheas' tail was still high, so there was some risk, but he hoped his tail couldn't get to Claxter's neck.
-
Keshin walks into the room with Illim, briefly slumping onto one of the bunks. They were pretty tired---the lack of medicine was going to take its toll until they shot themselves up. Which brought Keshin back to what Claxter had said, and made him realize that he should talk to Ossanlin. <....we need to see if it's possible, Joanne. If it is, we're free. Free of all of this. Free from medicine, from killing, from the same life we've lived all these years.>
<Kess, it scares me. Even though I know you're right. 'Cause...what're we gonna do after it's over? Act as one of Blueboy's crew-mates? We'd get bored fast. An' tired of it. >
<Bored is better than dead, Joanne. ....if we find an excuse, we'll leave. But for now...settling down is looking pretty good. We're in bad shape.>
Keshin then sits up off the bed and follows Illim to the protein storage. "Honestly? ....we'd fight for whoever remained, steal what we could. Turn the tide of the battle, probably toward the rebels. If you're wondering why you, well..." Keshin struggles for how to explain that. "....we've done you a few good turns, and many ill. If you were gone, some of our future jobs would completely dry up. Better more factions than fewer, in our line of work. However...."
Keshin glances down at the boxes and opens up one of them, hunting around for a packet for them. His voice grows more serious. He tried to determine how he could go about explaining his proposal. He had to breach the subject at some point, and now was as good as any. "...we may take a different route, if...if the rebels and Ossanlin agreed. Use your DNA to become a human nothlit. Save Joanne from her own body. Save..." Keshin's voice cracks a little. "...save us. Claxter suggested it. "
-
Aetheas barely manages to get his tail down in time to block Claxter's swing- he hadn't been expecting that low attack. He uses the momentum of Claxter's tail to push off with his own, to push himself to his feet, away from the Command-Warrior. His tail makes an audible pop as he does, but he ignores it, again darting to within range of Claxter and striking at his midsection. He attempts to feint left and then strike to the right- something he's never really been able to do normally, but facing like this, with Claxter in front of him and to the right, he can try. It feels... awkward...
-
Efaen's attention is drawn to the sounds of mock battle. Human once more, her two eyes rove the Dome until they fall on Claxter and an Andalite she recognizes only by sight from her last stint on the Tyrennian. He is easy enough to recognize due to his deformed tail and, if she remembers correctly, he is an aristh. Tilting her head a little, she watches the fight from afar for a few long minutes. Eventually she decides to get a better look and makes her way over to them, stopping by a nearby tree and sitting in front of it, leaning back against the trunk.
Her eyes try to follow their tails as they slash at one another, but human eyes are not made to move that fast. The blurs seem to fascinate her nonetheless, and she sits immobile, watching as best she can. She doesn't say anything to either party, not wanting to interrupt their concentration, but she can't help thinking that she would never be able to come close to that amount of speed and grace -- even that of the deformed one. Her true Andalite form was still utterly awkward and uncomfortable to her.
-
Aetheas had pushed claxter's tail to the side, so he took a step back, trying to get back into stance. Now the Aristh was trying a feint, and Claxter was put on the defensive, trying to keep up and keep himself from getting tagged again.
One of his stalk eyes caught Efaen watching, and though he said nothing about it, he liked that she had taken interest in it after all. Maybe if he could just get her to try a few moves, she wouldn't feel so uncomfortable in her true body, though since she had already remorphed, it wasn't likely to happen right now.
He didn't really have time to think much about it right now, since he was currently trying to keep aetheas' tail from scratching his torso, and the kid was getting mighty close.
-
Eleric takes a deep breath as he wakes up in his fairly small Warrior's quarters. He sighs and reminds himself that the quarters are only temporary...it wouldn't be that long before Ossanlin gave him his second crescent, Sky knows he deserves it. Might as well throw the Chevron on there and start calling himself Prince as well.
He commands the lights on in his quarters and begins his morning ritual, performing the rites of a new day, before donning his utility belt and heading out into the ship's corridors. He reminds himself of the humans, and more importantly, the Yeerks. Yeerks, on a state-of the art Mark III Dome Ship, and allowed to walk around of their own free will! He'd call the idiot who spoke those words a moron if he didn't know the truth of them himself.
He might as well head up to the Dome before descending to the Hangar bays. They'd be in Z-Space, of course...on their way to rendezvous with even more Yeerks. Eleric shakes his head to himself as he passes a Command Warrior in the hall and performs an exaggerated tail-salute. The Command Warrior deigns not to notice him. Not terribly uncommon...throw a second crescent on that aristh bar and every one thought himself high and mighty. Well, they'd have to notice him once Ossanlin actually took the time to promote him. Sky forbid the best Tail-Fighter pilot on the ship get any respect.
Well...second-best anyway. Damn Vanarx and her ridiculous, stim-fed, impossible abilities. He'd tried every trick in the book to beat her...but seeing as she was old enough to have actually written the book...well, his youth should give him something at least, shouldn't it?
He makes his way up into the Dome proper and gallops out into the field. There are too few females on the Tyrennian for his liking. Of course, that's the norm for Andalite military ships...but still. The presence of humans in the Dome still jars him, even though he'd reminded himself of the fact not more than a few moments ago. He puts it out of his mind and begins to feed. It's going to be a long day after all...that little stunt Ossanlin had pulled with the double-jump had upset a lot of drive-alignments in the Tail-Fighter Wing. Each one had to be tested, realigned, and tested again. A long, boring day indeed...and with no Flight Commander to handle all the tedium.
As he steps up for a drink from the stream, breathing deeply from his exertion, he notices a sparring session between Claxter and that jump-up aristh Aetheas. Why the Command Warrior bothers with making that ****y little Andalite use his deformed tail is beyond Eleric. His own perfectly-healthy tail has seen little use. Oh, he took tail-fighting courses at the Academy...everyone had to, but he'd never really seen the point. What use was a tail in space combat?
He drinks deeply and then strides over to the small group watching Claxter and Aetheas. Honestly, with a deformed tail, why would Aetheas not simply learn to pilot a Tail-Fighter? Perhaps he was afraid...some Andalites had that problem. Some saw a Tail-Fighter as an exposed death-trap. They aren't remotely close to any such thing if you know what you're doing. They're machines of precise destruction. An extension of the body into space. There's no time an Andalite feels more alive than when piloting a fighter.
He turns to another Warrior who had stopped to watch and mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. <I feel like I should've paid for a ticket.>
-
Efaen looks up sharply from her spot on the ground as Eleric's thought-speech invades her mind. It takes her a moment to pinpoint which warrior the thought came from, and when she does his face means nothing to her. She does not recognize it.
"Perhaps you should leave, then," she says aloud, raising her voice enough to be heard. She has had enough of Andalite arrogance and snobbishness in her limited stint on the Homeworld and at Corvus, and she has little tolerance for jibes. Even if they are aimed towards other Andalites.
-
Eleric's face tightens a bit as Efaen addresses him, but Ossanlin had asked the entire crew to be...accepting. <Come now, the Dome is a communal place, though I wouldn't expect a human to understand that. Yeerks however...I was given to understand that you all enjoy communal living...swimming around in...liquid...with thousands of others.> He stops himself from saying "muck," "sludge," or any of the other overly-colorful descriptive words that popped into his mind when he thought of Yeerk pool liquid.
-
Efaen's dark eyebrows shoot up and she turns her attention on the Andalite fully. "Humans are a communal species as well, though I am still learning all of the nuances." Her smiles is humorless as she shifts to thought-speak, directing the words solely at him. <Though I suppose you could always ask a human if you wished to find out. Or a Yeerk. I would suggest taking your tail out of your ass first, though.>
-
Eleric's main eyes widen as he actually looks directly at the human female, dumbfounded for a few moments. He recovers quickly, though, and his expression turns serious. <<How can you produce thought-speech?! That shouldn't be even remotely possible!>>
-
Efaen makes a derisive noise in the back of her throat. <<For an Andalite, you are not particularly intelligent, are you?>> she says. <<I am in morph, you moron.>> She grunts as she pushes herself to her feet, using the tree to balance as she stands upright. A quick glance at the battle assures her that it is still going on and most of the onlookers are caught up in watching.
<<You should know better than to believe your eyes when you belong to the very species that invented morphing technology,>> she says in a quieter voice. She doesn't demorph, though, letting him draw his own conclusions.
-
<In...morph...?> His eyes dart around the dome before returning to her, one eyebrow arched. <You are...Andalite? Why are you morphed? And as a human, no less. I know Ossanlin asked us to try to understand the humans...but don't you think remaining in human morph is taking it a bit far?>
As he falls silent, he does a mental double-take. That had been a decidedly female thought-speech voice. One that he doesn't recognize.
-
<<I prefer this form,>> Efaen responds, turning her gaze back to the sparring match, though she is still paying attention to Eleric. <<It would please your captain to no end if I were to resume inhabiting my Andalite body, I have no doubt.>> She pauses, watching for a moment before continuing <<I was born Andalite, but I spent most of my remembered time with the Yeerk and human rebels, in this body. They are my allies, and yours as well now, so I would appreciate it if you dropped the derisive attitude.>>
-
Finally the insults that had been pushed aside by shock catch up with him. <<Why in Sky would you prefer a human form?>> He scoffs and shakes his head.
<<Wait...you lived with the Yeerks? You must be that female Warrior that wiped out a whole bunch of them...Efaen, wasn't it? Pretty tailsy move, that, given the way Ossanlin feels about them.>>
-
Efaen's shoulders stiffen. <<I am Efaen, yes,>> she says quietly, her eyes narrowing at the ground. <<And, yes, I murdered a number of the rebel Yeerks. Several dozen. Dozens more were paralyzed for life as result of my actions.>> She doesn't offer an explanation or an apology, her expression grim.
-
Aetheas ignores the few onlookers that have gathered-- he's used to them at this point, even if the human in their midst is something new. And besides, he's got Claxter on the defensive this time!
Unfortunately, that means he really has no choice but to continue his fast, high offensive. He keeps three eyes on Claxter, his fourth searching for anything he might be able to use to his advantage, but he knows that if he lets up his assault for even a second, Claxter will be able to turn it around and come right back at him. It seems all he can do is try to force the Command-Warrior back towards the stream.
Wincing with every swing of his tail, he presses the attack.
-
Claxter noticed eleric start talking to Efaen, and whatever he was saying wasn't making her too happy. He thought about telling Eleric to take a hike, but Efaen might react negatively to that. Unless he started threatening her, Claxter would let the conversation go.
Honestly he respected Eleric as a great pilot, though he was another Andalite who was too egotistic for his rank. when did Claxter start noticing this kind of thing? It didn't use to bother him, but maybe hanging around people like Prince Ossanlin that didn't care much for Andalites that were full of themselves was starting to wear on him.
Aetheas' tail got close enough to brush against his fur without really touching skin, and Claxter forced all thoughts from his head. Suddenly his back hooves hit the water, and he realized he was about to get slowed down in the mud and water. The best course of action was probably to just take a leap and bring the fight to the water. It might even be good practice for fighting in boggy terrain.
-
Illim's eyebrows raise immediately and dramatically at Keshin's words. "You think they'd let a non-Andalite get their hands on that technology? I mean... I'll give you this is an abnormal group of Andalites, but that's progressive, even for this bunch." He frowns as he continues watching them. "What do you mean, save Joanne from her own body?" He asks curiously as he bends down to open a crate, revealing protein supplements inside.
-
Keshin lifts out one of the protein supplements and begins to open it, wondering if the substance was chewable this time. It would taste terrible in that form, but they were that hungry. Keshin chuckles. "It's a shot in the dark, but we never expected to be on this ship at all. Nor did we expect the opportunity. Any chance we can get to escape our fate is worth looking into, even if it's unlikely. Besides..." Keshin begins to waver in the room slightly, pacing a bit as if to move in order to put together his thoughts. He eventually stops in place, looking at Illim and crossing his arms. "....they might just do it. We're going to be expensive to support otherwise, without our medic. You see...."
Keshin glances down, biting his lip. "....I guess Myitt never told you this. Who would believe some of it?" Keshin looks up and smiles ever so slightly. If someone had told an uninvolved him all the details, he realized, he would think they were lying or mad. "Joanne has an extremely rare cellular mutation, as in rare to the point that we've never heard of anyone living through it. Research on Earth turned up a few other known cases, but they were all dead within a few years. The reason we became a turelek was to fund the medicine we need to keep Joanne's metabolic rate stable. Exactly how she made it so many years alive on Earth, without the Empire.....well, we don't really know. Miracles are what they are. It had some advantages for a while, but now....it's just killing her. Morphing another human without the defect would save her life."
-
Illim raises his eyebrows, the protein packet in his hands all but forgotten as he stares at Keshin. Then he gives a low whistle. "No. Myitt didn't tell me. I only vaguely knew who you were, anyway."
He stands, knees popping in protest, something that has become more pronounced since his recent captivity. It seems to have aged his host noticeably. "Look, I'm glad you kept her alive, and that you might have found a permanent solution through morphing. But, to be honest with you, I'm mostly just glad you won't have a reason to be a turelek anymore. Unless, of course you choose to continue being an ass."
-
Keshin laughs. Illim's assertion about them was about as true as it got. "I'll try and make sure Joanne doesn't continue being an ass on my watch."
<Hey, don' put that **** on me.>
<Very well, but you do contribute.>
"You have to admit that we do have an option," mutters Keshin with an awkward look. "....go along with War-Prince Ossanlin's mad peace plan. What do you honestly make of it? We aren't all exactly the best of shipmates so far. "
-
Aetheas curses, silently-- he's getting so close to Claxter while his attention is elsewhere, but the Command-Warrior is managing to keep him at bay. He watches for a moment, shocked, as Claxter simply leaps back into the stream. He was not expecting that. He barely manages to parry Claxter's subsequent slash, and then he finds himself on the defensive, stumbling into the water.
-
Ossanlin brings up a computer display of the locations of each of the humans on the ship. Some are in the dome, others in their quarters...none are outside of restricted zones. Even Keshin...or Joanne, rather. Ossanlin sweeps over the visual feed of the dome and notices a sparring session that had drawn a bit of a group. Claxter and... Aetheas? Claxter had managed to get the aristh actively engaged in tail-fighting...remarkable. Ossanlin had believed, after the latest unfortunate attempt, that Aetheas would be soured on the idea altogether. Aetheas seems to be using a form of tail-fighting that keeps his good side toward Claxter. A weakness in a duel to be sure, but perhaps ingenious for someone in Aetheas's condition.
Ossanlin watches the feed for a moment before shutting it down. Watching a sparring tail-fight is not his responsibility at the moment. <Enorryma, please run a tier three diagnostic on Apix 2 Coil alpha. Let's make sure the double-jump didn't disturb the emitter alignment.>
Normally neither Ossanlin nor Enorryma would need to be involved in such a test, but with no First Engineer and a less-than minimal engineering staff, others would have to pick up some of the slack.
~ ~
Eleric narrows his eyes at Efaen's puzzling response...or rather lack of one. Then he remembers that her memories had been erased and he smiles a bit. <Rebels took your memories too, huh? Can't say that's very fair. Better than being infested I guess.> His smile turns into a ****y grin. <<Maybe I can teach you how to pilot a tail-fighter again. I bet you could make a pretty fierce little pilot.>> He arches an eyebrow winningly. Most females liked it when he did that.
-
Near knee deep in water, Claxter once again focused solely on the battle. He made some quick strikes towards Aetheas' torso and neck, trying to get some good footing in the mud. In truth he hadn't had a lot of practice fighting in shallow water. Even if he got a piloting career, there was still a chance of enemies boarding the ship. Though the chances of him getting into a tailfight right here in the river were still small. He'd be up guarding the bridge. Just keeping a good sparring session fresh was sometimes a good enough reason to change the terrain.
-
Aetheas stumbles backwards through the stream, blocking blow after blow, his stalk-eyes frantically looking for a way out of this situation. His tail was getting tired-- there was no way he could continue to match Claxter's endurance.
He waded, carefully, into deeper water, until he was deep enough that nearly the entirety of his legs were submerged. The current was getting stronger, and he was upstream here; any slip would carry him right towards Claxter and leave him helpless.
He used his hands to splash some water towards Claxter's face, ready to lunge should the Command-Warrior flinch.
-
Claxter averted his eyes when Aetheas started splashing., He probably should have expected such a tactic. He would just have to rely more on hearing Aetheas coming, and feeling the displacement of the waves as he tried to move forward. <Oh, now we're child's games, I see. Have you no shame?> He said, jokingly.
-
Efaen's own eyebrows raise in a mirror image of Eleric's, but it is not a flirtatious gesture. His words are more than a little off-putting, and her lips set into a scowl.
She is about to respond with a biting comment, but hesitates at the offer to be taught how to pilot. It is one of many skills she is lacking since the memory wipe, and one that might prove particularly useful should her popularity here remain so low. An escape might not be a bad idea, she thinks to herself. Swallowing back her insults she forces herself to smile at Eleric, not sure if he will recognize the gesture on a human face. When she responds this time, it is aloud. "I would love to learn some piloting. I'm sure you're quite good at it."
-
Eleric's grin widens further as his voracious ego is fed. <Well, I'm still too young to gauge my kill-count, but Prince Ossanlin has promoted me to the Squad Commander position of the Lightning-Strike Squadron. I'm the second-youngest person to earn his own squad command.> He doesn't mention that the unofficial truth would name him the third-youngest. Prince Cariovin holds the record officially, taking command of his squad shortly after joining his Dome Ship. But unofficially, the youngest person to command a squadron is actually on-board the Tyrennian. Enorryma had been commanding her first squadron right after graduating...but the oppression of females in the military had led to her position being completely off the books at first.
<I'd be happy to show you some maneuvers. Maybe Ossanlin will allow us to run through a quick lesson when we drop out of Z-Space. I think you'll find that there's no greater thrill.> He winks at Efaen, noting the human version of a smile which included the eyes as well as the mouth.
-
Illim shrugs Daniel's relatively thin shoulders. "Not sure we've got much of a choice, honestly," he replies. "At least until we find the rest of our survivors. I'm... I'm sure there's more out there," he adds, glancing in Terenia's direction and then looking back at Keshin. "Ossanlin's just going to have to understand that, as grateful as we are, we're not used to taking orders from Andalites. We need to maintain our own leadership here."
-
Aetheas frowns at Claxter's joke. This 'humor' thing is always lost on him. With Claxter somewhat distracted by the water, Aetheas seizes his opportunity and lunges. slipping a bit on the rocks at the bottom of the stream.
-
Claxter swings his tail forward, but he couldn't get the water out of his eyes, and felt Aetheas connect with his torso. <Maybe jumping into the water wasn't the best plan after all. My tail is getting rather worn out. How about yours? Do you want to take a break?>
-
<Yes, a break would be good,> says Aetheas, panting. His tail is burning and his hearts are pounding, but he allows himself to take some satisfaction from the fact that he scored a hit on Claxter. <I may decide to stay here, actually. The water is refreshing.> He half-smiles at Claxter, <I'd like to practice more with that technique.> He lowers his tail into the stream, allowing the water to run over it, and sighs, <Eventually.>
-
<I'm glad you like it.> He said. He lowered himself into the stream, enjoying the refreshing coolness after building up a sweat. He closed his main eyes, though his stalk eyes wandered as always. Efaen and Eleric were talking, and he was tempted to invite at least Efaen over, but maybe not. It occurred to Claxter that Eleric thought himself a lady's Andalite. He wondered if the Warrior was trying to flirt with Efaen, and how he felt about it. Surely he and Efaen were far from a close item, but he hoped Eleric wasn't just trying to add another girl to his list or something. That was about the last thing Efaen needed right now.
-
"I would like that," Efaen says, smile remaining in place, though it stiffens a little at his words. She keeps her voice saccharine, forcing back what she would truly like to say to him. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name."
-
<I am Squad Commander Eleric-Serivul-Mezian.> His ****y grin changes to a more genuine-looking smile. <But I certainly have no issues with someone such as yourself calling me Eleric. We have one trainer down in the Hangar Bay...but it doesn't quite feel the same as a true Tail Fighter. We could start with the trainer, but later, we might be able to pull off a lesson or two in my Tail-Fighter. Strictly-speaking, you have to be in a true Tail-Fighter to get the full experience. It'd be a bit cramped, but I'm sure we could manage.> He winks one main eye at Efaen, still smiling.
-
Claxter's stalk eye caught Eleric winking at Efaen. He WAS flirting with her! His main eyes open to an uncharacteristicall y scowling look as he stared at Eleric. He ought to go over there and say...something. Efaen was smiling, but Claxter thought it looked a bit forced. Or was he just hoping it was a forced smile? Surely she wouldn't let that guy reel her in too easily. He wasn't sure the exact words to say that wouldn't carry the risk of offending her. Unless he waited until Eleric left. Then he's give the guy a piece of his mind. Possibly his tail.
-
"Less cramped if I remain in this form, Eleric," Efaen responds. "It is the best way for me to learn, as I use it more frequently than my Andalite body." She tucks a dark, curly strand of hair behind her ear, watching Eleric closely. "I...understand you are likely quite busy," she murmurs. "But whenever you are available...please, do not hesitate to seek me out."
Terenia follows Illim and Keshin to the same room she had spent the night trying to sleep in. Hovering near the doorway she listens to their conversation, but does not participate. Her temporary anger from the unexpected conversation with Claxter seems to have faded entirely, leaving her just as listless as before.
-
Eleric's smile slips a bit at that. <I don't understand why you would deny yourself the superior mental and physical capacities of your natural form.> He forces his smile back into place, suddenly somewhat out of his element. If this female truly doesn't care for her physical form...but he's already offered. Then he thinks of a way to make it work out one way or the other. His smile becomes more-assured again.
<I'm afraid you'd have to use your natural form for piloting a Tail-Fighter. You can use the thought-speech interface in morph, but the physical controls are designed for a thumb and six fingers, not four. It would be all but impossible to effectively pilot a Tail-Fighter with so few digits.>
-
Efaen can't help but scowl a little at this. The idea of spending any extended amount of time in her own form is repugnant enough. To do so in the presence of a clearly egotistical male warrior was...well, it was very likely her best opportunity to forge her own escape and save herself from Ossanlin's science experiments.
"Very well," she says reluctantly. "I suppose I understand if you are not up to the task of modifying your usual methods of instruction." Her smile returns, a little sharply. "If I must use my own form, though, we should begin immediately. I am less familiar with it, so it may take more time. Let's go."
She deliberately phrases the last part as an order, knowing that she has no authority over him. Even if she is a warrior in name, she is further behind than most arisths. Mostly, she just wants to see whether Eleric will let his ego or his desire to flirt with her win out.
-
"If there is leadership on the Yeerk end," mutters Keshin, finally chewing into his protein supplement. At this point, the grainy and unpleasant bar tastes like manna from heaven. He hungrily devours half of it before speaking again. His expression reads as slightly embarrassed. "I mean, from what I saw...everyone in the rebellion's doing their own thing. You've all suffered terrible losses and seem concerned with your own problems. Makes sense."
"Where have you set this rendezvous point?" Keshin says, looking a bit perplexed as to how any rendezvous point could have been set up at all. "Does the Rebellion have a policy for what to do if the base is invaded without warning?"
-
Eleric raises his eyebrows. <We...are in Z-Space. Launching a fighter from a capital ship into Z-Space is near-suicidal. We must wait until we are in regular space, and then Ossanlin would have to approve the launch. We may be required to launch a defense patrol with the nature of this meeting...> He pauses, furrowing his brows before smiling winningly again. <...but...I might be able to show you some things in the ****pit without launching, if you'd like that.>
-
Aetheas closes his main eyes and enjoys the stream for a few minutes. He keeps a stalk eye on Claxter's expression-- he's not sure why Eleric's conversation with the rebel woman seems to have him upset, but he's a little disgusted with the fact that it seems to be taking so much of Claxter's attention. Eleric is just another swaggering fighter pilot. They're a dime a dozen aboard dome ships.
<Will there be any further instruction for today?> he prods Claxter.
-
<We could test your shredder aim, or perhaps run a few laps.> Claxter said. He notices Aetheas watching him, and realized that he really should be focusing on his duties. <I apologize. I'm supposed to be on the job, but my attention has been elsewhere. It's not very professional. You only get an hour from me, and I should at least give you that hour. Let's get out of here and do some target practice.>
He got out of the stream, and wiped the mud off his hooves. There was a room off the dome with some shooting targets, and if Claxter could get out of sight of Efaen and Eleric, he'd be less likely to be distracted.
-
Aetheas's eyes light up at the suggestion of 'target practice.' He's yet to master the use of a Shredder, but he does thoroughly enjoy it. <Yes, Command-Warrior,> he says, following Claxter out of the water and towards the shooting range. His tail aches, and his hearts have only just slowed down from their match. tail-fighting is always exhausting, but at least today it had been comparatively nice. More often than not he comes out of sparring sessions feeling frustrated and inadequate.
-
Claxter stepped into a room and activated the hologram for the "Forest with Hork-Bajir" scenario. They were surrounded by trees, with a blanket of leaves on the ground. The object was to shoot any Hork-Bajir that jumped out from behind a tree to attack them, or any that shot at them with dracons. They could come from any direction, and the Andalites would be scored on how often they hit an enemy, and how often they got hit.
<Whenever you're ready, aetheas.>
-
"Course we've got leadership. We have a Council of our own, and several of its members are here," Illim replies, watching Keshin eat. "And... yeah, had contingency plans put in place. Which is why I'm certain there are more of us alive out there."
At that, he looks back at Terenia, expression softening in worry. He stands, crossing the room to bring her a protein bar. "Here, eat," he offers quietly. "Maybe you'll feel better."
-
Efaen flushes at her mistake, dropping her gaze momentarily, her own confidence faltering. It is one of many examples of moments that serve only to remind her how many holes still exist in her memory.
"Yes, that would be fine," she says, trying to recover with a smile. "And you mentioned a simulator, yes? Surely those do not require launching."
Terenia wordlessly accepts the protein bar, taking a deep inhale of breath before going over to one of the cots and sitting down. She doesn't look at Keshin or Illim, slowly unwrapping the bar and nibbling on the end.
On the bridge, Keslin steps back from his holoscreen, rubbing at his eyes. Chris' exhaustion is taking its toll, the symbols floating in his field of vision incomprehensibly.
<<Kes, man...I need some sleep,>> Chris whispers apologetically. <<I'm dead on my feet.>> He automatically winces internally at his word choice, thoughts going to the tiny, still form of his unbreathing son.
Keslin sighs a little and nods. Shutting down the Andalite holoscreen, he turns to approach Ossanlin, who appears to be working with one of the other Andalites involved in their rescue. The female who stayed with Tess.
"Ossanlin," Keslin says, pulling to a halt in front of the Andalite, disregarding the use of the Andalite's official title. "Unfortunately, I will have to take a few hours to allow Chris to recover. He is exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and I am of little use to you if my host cannot function." He swallows, not mentioning how exhausted he is himself, for a creature that does not sleep. The tension of the night, the loss of one of their children...all of it has put a strain on Keslin that he isn't allowing himself to show. "I am going to return to my quarters, but I would like to be contacted when we emerge from Z-space near the first rendezvous point." He purposely doesn't request permission to leave the bridge, instead politely informing Ossanlin of his plans.
-
Aetheas takes one of the training Shredders and does his best to clear his mind. It takes him a minute-- he keeps replaying their sparring session in his head, making mental notes, berating himself for every misstep, trying to figure out how to better adapt to his new fighting style. Maybe someone's used something like that before-- he'll have to research it.
Finally, though, he does manage to get his mind on the situation at hand. They're in the forest. It looks like Claxter had chosen the scenario with the Hork-Bajir. This is one of Aetheas's favorites, and he grins and begins scanning the forest with his stalk eyes.
<Go!> he shouts.
-
Ossanlin watches Keslin with a stalk eye and nods. There would be some tension there...Ossanlin recognizes the probing push. A lot of new Warriors used such a tactic to see how much they could get away with. Of course, Keslin is certainly not an initiate of the Andalite military. He'll have to use tact without compromising his own authority. <Very well. Serid can provide you with an escort back to your quarters if necessary.>
Ossanlin's tone is also polite, though he clearly keeps most of his attention on the task he's performing with his console. <Rest assured that one of my security staff will keep you apprised as the situation requires. I look forward to our next opportunity to converse.>
-
Eleric smiles as Efaen recovers from her slight slip-up. <Don't worry, it's understandable considering what the Yeerks took from you. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose my Academy training. If I couldn't remember how to fly...> He closes his eyes and shakes his head before turning his main eyes on Efaen again.
<Well, we do have holographic simulators. I suppose it would help you get situated with the basics, but it doesn't have the same...feel. Perhaps that would be a better place to start, though. The trainer I was speaking of is actually a specially-designed fighter-class craft made for giving and taking lessons in.>
He grins again. <Follow me, I'll show you the holographic simulators.> He turns and starts heading in the same direction that Claxter and Aetheas had ventured a few minutes earlier.
-
"No escort needed," Keslin says, managing a small smile. "I think I can find my own way, and I could do with a few moments alone. I will speak with you again soon, Ossanlin."
His smile drops when he turns away, and he runs a hand through his hair long, curly blonde hair, feeling as if Chris might collapse any moment.
<<Hang in there,>> he murmurs. <<We'll get back to Tess, and...and to our son...and we'll take a well-earned nap.>>
<<Ngh,>> is all Chris says, too exhausted to bother with coherency.
Efaen hesitates. "The Yeerks took my memories out of necessity," she murmurs, more to herself than Eleric. When the other Andalite begins moving away she follows, needing to keep up a fairly brisk pace to keep up with his four legs to her two.
"The basics are fine for now. That's where everyone has to start, isn't it?" she says reasonably, half jogging.
-
Claxter began the simulation, and they could soon hear the sounds of Hork-Bajir. For a few seconds none could be seen, but soon anough, the simulated enemies emerged from all sides, attacking a few at a time. Some charged in, but you only got points for shooting, so Claxter tried to nail them as soon as he could. He also had to keep an eye on the trees for shots from above. The simulation would get harder over time, but Claxter had started it on the medium setting first. Easy was for raw beginners.
-
Aetheas uses his main eyes and one stalk-eye to watch in the directions he's hearing sounds from. His other stalk eye continues scanning the area. He puts less effort into watching the area near Claxter- The Command Warrior should be able to cover that section.
A Hork-Bajir bursts from the brush nearby and rushes at him. <Aha!> shouts Aetheas, turning and firing a shot only a second before the Hork-Bajir would have reached him. It's a hit, and the Hork-Bajir freezes in place and then simply fades away. From behind and to the left of it comes another, this one with its Dracon drawn. Aetheas easily dispatches it as well before its weapon is even leveled at him.
-
Eleric watches Efaen with a stalk eye as he trots at a walking pace. He sighs to himself as he slows his pace a bit to accommodate her. <I still do not understand why you refuse yourself the advantages of your true form. You will have to demorph before we enter the simulation in any case.>
He trots to the primary aft exit of the dome and heads out into the ramp well, descending a deck and then heading down the hallway to a series of large doors with computer panels next to them. He notes a couple in use, presumably one of them holds Claxter and Aetheas. He starts keying up a third, activating the Tail-Fighter basic training program. He nods at Efaen as he waits for the program to load into the holographic simulator.
-
"Because I prefer the advantages of this form," Efaen says simply. She is breathing a little heavily when they finally reach the simulator, and she is forced to relent.
Taking a moment to catch her breath, she looks around her, ensuring that the only people around are herself and Eleric. Then she focuses on demorphing, letting the changes occur as quickly as possible, wanting to get the process over with. The sooner you do this, the sooner you can morph back, she tells herself.
The transition from human to Andalite is not a particularly attractive one, though Efaen's natural aptitude for morphing makes it much more appealing. She controls the morph, subconsciously more than anything, so that her deep purple fur appears first, coating the pale, freckled skin of her human morph. Then the more dramatic changes take place, forcing her to shift onto an extra pair of legs, and to return to thought-speak as her mouth melts shut. Her tail appears last, lithe and swift, with the smaller blade of an Andalite female.
Once the morph is finished she regards Eleric a little cautiously, not sure what his reaction will be, to the morphing process or to her own form. <I presume this is more suitable?> she asks lightly.
-
Eleric raises his eyebrows as he watches Efaen demorph. <You are estreen. I have not been party to such beauty in years.> He looks Efaen's true form up and down before quickly moving his eyes to the door console, busying himself to hide his reaction. <Well, it certainly is not unsuitable. Far from it. You will...fit...rather ...well...in a Tail-Fighter.> He tries to master himself and regain his ****y swagger, with limited success.
<Let's begin.> He opens the doors into a facsimile of the Tyrennian's hangar bay, more specifically, into one of the special hangars with two Tail-Fighters parked side-by-side. He walks through toward the Tail-Fighter on the right.
-
Claxter takes some shots at enemies as well, honing his own less than perfect shooting abilities. Some Hork-Bajir try to weave through trees to keep him from getting a clear shot, but he learns to predict their movements. over time their movements become less obvious and predictable, and more come at one time, giving a steady rise to the difficulty. He made plenty of connections, a few misses, and despite his attempts at dodging, was occasionally struck and lost points.
Initially you lose a pint if you get struck, and gain one if you hit the enemy, but on harder difficulties you lose one point for a miss, and two if you're struck. Combine that with the more intense effort on the enemy's part, and your points could drop like a rock.
-
Aetheas starts out the training doing quite well, he feels-- his score rockets initially as he pegs wave after wave of Hork-Bajir, and even manages to dodge the occasional shot. He goes out of his way to take some shots that would be easily within Claxter's range, simply hoping to finally best Claxter's score-- he came close the last time they this simulation, but so far the Command Warrior has always managed the higher score.
Soon, however, his overexertion begins to take its toll-- his eyes and his gun arm begin to grow weary, and his aim grows steadily less accurate. He switches the Shredder to his left hand to continue firing, decreasing his accuracy further, just as misses begin counting as negative points. Each time a Dracon shot hits him, he grows more frustrated, and the more frustrated he becomes, the more rushed his shots become.
-
<You have to keep calm, Aetheas.> Claxter said, trying to pick up the slack, though he was starting to have a tough time too. <I'm not totally sure if this game is designed to be won, anyway. You just have to go as long as possible before the game wins.> He could be wrong, though. It would be kind of funny if it could be won, and he just hasn't gotten good enough yet. <Use the trees for cover. Don't worry too much about points. It's not like the top scorer gets a special trophy or anything.>
It was hard to tell a perfectionist like Aetheas that you don't have to be perfect to be admirable.
-
Myitt, looking just as exhausted and bewildered as Chris, nearly runs into her old friends in the hallway.
She starts and backs up a step.
"Keslin?" she breathes. "They...won't tell us what happened to...oh, ****, is Tess okay? The children...?"
-
Efaen looks surprised, and a little taken aback, by the compliment on her morphing. She considers rebuking him, but instead just looks a little uncertain. Lucky for her, Eleric seems distracted, and she uses the opportunity to compose herself. Luckily, Efaen is not entirely used to expressing emotion without a mouth, so for all appearances, she remains fairly stoic.
<<You will have to begin with the basics, I'm afraid,>> Efaen says as she follows him. <<I haven't been near the controls for a ship. Not that I can remember, at least.>>
Keslin pulls to an abrupt stop, blinking himself out of the daze that Chris has fallen into. "Myitt," he breathes. He is silent for a few beats, processing her question and then taking in a deep breath. "Child," he corrects, unable to hep choking on the word a bit. "Just one...I...the other..." He swallows, putting a hand against his mouth. "Dapsen," he whispers. And suddenly it's too much for him, too overwhelming. The exhaustion, combined with strain of remaining in a leadership role while Tess is in pain, of losing one of their children on top of all the losses they have already faced. He sags, leaning against the wall, clenching his teeth together as tears leak from his eyes.
-
Myitt watches mutely, shock jarring her so badly that she is unsure what to do or say for a long moment.
"Keslin," she says softly, going to Chris' side and drawing them into a hug. "Oh, Chris, I'm...we're so sorry."
-
<Ah..Um..yes. I'm sorry, training a person with no remembered experience is itself a new experience for me.>
Eleric gives the simulator a quick thought-speech command, and it adjusts the program quickly. The only thing that changes about the scene is that an open version of a ****pit pilot console appears on the open floor between the two tail-fighters with plenty of space to walk around the outside.
<This is your piloting console. It might look a tad intimidating at first, but it'll become your second home in no time, I'm sure.> He grins, regaining a little more of his confidence. The console is arced not unlike a shortened, widened horseshoe. There are myriad touch surfaces along with blinking lights and one physical display. There are two physical "joysticks" on either side within comfortable resting distance for each hand. Above the console, displays pop up around the central viewing area, showing ship statistics and a rudimentary HUD.
Eleric glances at Efaen again and gives the simulation another command. A fully-functioning, but holographically-generated two-piece ARC appears in his hand. He holds it out for Efaen. <Here, put this on. It is called an Apix Realtime Computer. You might have seen several of us wearing them.> He ****s his head to highlight the one that's currently attached to his left ear, arcing around the left side of his head to terminate in a slightly widened tip at the corner of his left eye. He gestures with the one he's holding up. <This one is fully functional even though it's simulation-generated. You can't take it out of the simulation deck, though. Just hook the holo-display over your ear on the side with your non-dominant eye. The other piece goes in your utility belt.> As he speaks, a utility belt appears around Efaen's humanoid mid-section. He grins again, wondering what her reaction would be. The simulation deck could be quite impressive to someone who'd never experienced it, or in this case, doesn't remember ever experiencing it. Unless, of course, the rebels had one and she'd been allowed to explore it.
-
Aetheas takes Claxter's advice, doing his best to stay in the trees, to use them for cover. He finds a nice little grove of trees that forms almost a wall on one side of him, and nestles into it as well as he can, firing repeatedly.
<Gah!> he yells, as an unarmed Hork-Bajir bursts from his wall of trees and rushes him. He turns and fires, but misses, and the Hork-Bajir's slash is enough to have opened him from tip to tail, were this not a simulation. In frustration, he fires three quick shots in the direction opposite the one the Hork-Bajir had run from, and ends up hitting three Hork-Bajir.
Better, he thinks.
<I am performing beneath my abilities,> he tells Claxter between shots. <I know I am capable of better than this. I can feel it. I simply do not like...> he ducks as a simulated Dracon beam sizzles the air overhead, <the feeling of inadequacy brought on by a performance that is less than my best. Hah!> he shouts again, as he fires at a Hork-Bajir in the trees, missing, but narrowly.
-
<Having high standards for yourself is a good thing, but sometimes your standards are so high that it's just hard to meet them all that time. this leads to frustration and anxiety, which causes more problems. The standard I set for myself is to just do better today than I did yesterday. Even if it's just a little bit, it will add up over time. Making a log of things could help you see how much improvement you make week by week. I don't need to say that I should be at a certain skill level by a certain time. I just need to be better now than I was in the past. You may find it's less frustrating then.>
Claxter said this in between his own shots. It may be harder to focus, trying to give advice while concentrating on the game, but in real life a battle doesn't stop just so a Prince can instruct his Warriors.
-
Keshin glances at Terenia's presence warily, as if just noticing it. This woman was single-handedly responsible for the third biggest mess they had ever been in, and the rebels took her in...why? They'd never exactly gotten the story behind that. He wondered, on occasion, if the rebellion did things less for any strategic concern and more because they were nice people.
<Heck, yeah Considerin' one of those guys got shot last time 'cause o' idgit here. Old softies, the rebels.>
<Hard to believe, given how many of them have had a gun pointed at my head.>
Keshin munched idly on his protein Bar and then glanced at Illim. "So what now? Do we meet up with the other Yeerks on the ship? I heard..." Keshin bites his lip. "...is old Revan really dead? How many of your people perished in that raid?"
-
Aetheas fires, then speaks, <I have...> he ducks, <had moments...> he fires twice, <In which... gah!> He dodges aside, but is hit repeatedly anyway. <In which I have performed...> He fires, wildly, into the trees, missing with all shots except one, <At a level far beyond...> He retreats out of his safe-spot as Hork-Bajir pour from the trees, Dracon fire falling around him like rain <What I am normally capable of...> He fires into the trees, doing his best to track a group of approaching unarmed Hork-Bajir with his stalk eyes. <I only wish...> He leaps backwards, instinctively swinging his tail at a nearby unarmed Hork-Bajir, which of course passes through the simulated creature with no effect, leaving it to slash at Aetheas, <To achieve that level with...> He ducks his head and sprints forwards, between two approaching groups, firing repeatedly, <Greater consistency... No!> A third group of Hork-Bajir has flanked him, and he finds himself surrounded on three sides.
-
Claxter shot down the Hork-Bajir that were turned from him, opening a hoel to let him stand tail to tail with Aetheas for better coverage. <Efficiency is...always good. You just need to...examine past efforts to...get a good idea of what you...do right and wrong. Just try not...to overexert your...body too much while trying...to get better.> Claxter was finding it hard to keep up with all the enemies now. <I'm glad this is...just a simulation. It would be pretty...scary otherwise.>
<I'm sure you'll...be a great Prince...some day. You have a lot...of potential.> There was a good chance they may never be allowed back with their people, though. He wondered if the promotions Ossanlin gave really mattered if their people didn't recognize them on the chance that they were welcomed back. Perhaps they shoul;d just think of themselves as their own fledgling military.
-
<We would not... have survived... level three... if this were real...> agrees Aetheas.
He falters for a moment, taking a hit, when Claxter tells him he'll be a great Prince someday. He knows that, of course, but it's a bit of a shock to hear someone else acknowledge it.
<Thank you,> he says tentatively, unsure whether he should genuinely be thanking Claxter, or whether there's a hidden meaning in the Command Warrior's words somewhere. It wouldn't be the first time someone had found an underhanded way to insult him with what sounded like a compliment.
He does his best to keep his back to Claxter, moving less from his spot. For a little while, the strategy seems to work-- he's far more effective only having to cover 180 degrees-- but as the difficulty of the simulation increases, he soon finds himself being overwhelmed again.
-
<You're welcome.> Claxter's arm and fingers were getting very tired. He had been doing some exercises in his room for the poast few weeks, and he could feel an improvement, but even with that his shredder arm was sagging. Eventually he just couldn't do it anymore. <End simulation.>
The simulation stopped, and everything disappeared. He holstered his weapon, and massaged his arms to get some feeling back into them. <That was some good practice. I guess now we can take a run, and exercise our legs.>
-
Efaen's eyebrows raise as the holographic belt settles around her. She was no stranger to holograms, though she was not particularly used to them interacting with her own body so realistically. The simulated weight of the belt, the fabric against her fur, felt real.
<Impressive,>> she allows, taking the holographic ARC from Eleric and donning it as directed. Her main eyes scan the consoles, curious.
Keslin can't respond for a moment. He returns the hug, all of the energy going out of him at once, unable to help the tears that run down his cheeks, to his unshaven jawline.
Finally, he pulls away, forcing himself to breathe. "We named him James," he says quietly. "The...the one that survived."
Terenia flinches a little at the mention of Reven, but says nothing, letting Illim continue the conversation. Thoughts of Reven are too close to thoughts of Corliss. She chews her protein bar, staring at the ground. It tastes like dust.
-
Myitt pulls away from Chris, nodding woodenly, her own eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Oh," she breathes, nodding again and sniffling. "****. That's...he would be so honored, Chris. Keslin." Unable to say much more, she hugs him again, closing her eyes and letting the tears track down Tara's cheeks. "****. ****..."
-
<Yes,> agrees Aetheas, shaking out his arms. <Yes, a run would be good.> After the morning's vigorous exercises, he's more than ready to relax a bit.
He leads the way back to the dome. Once there, he takes a deep breath of the air, and, with barely a glance at Claxter, takes off around the edge of the dome in a slow gallop.
-
Back in the dome, Claxter trotted along with Aetheas. This didn't really need to be a race, but he trotted just barely ahead of Aetheas, almost inviting him to go a bit faster. He could ignore it, or take the silent challenge. Efaen and Eleric seemed to have left, which was probably for the best. He needed to focus on Aetheas' training for now.
-
Illim turns his head back towards Terenia, watching her a moment, before returning his gaze to the crate, digging through it to see if there's any variety at all in the packed protein supplements. Of course, there's none.
He sighs at the mention of their former leader. "We don't know. But... I've heard confirmation about Reven, yeah." He looks back at Terenia again and clears his throat. "As far as those of us here, yeah. We need to rally once everyone's had a chance to rest and eat. Looks like Ossanlin wants to work with his crew, but we're going to have to sort out our own structure all over again."
-
<Tail-Fighters are extremely agile in all three dimensions. Note the controls for primary thrust strength, vectoring thrusters, and atmospheric fins.> Different portions of the control panel light up as Eleric mentions them. <The two manual sticks can be used to control the ship in a more fluid manner, but the best results come from mixing both sticks and console commands. Those are advanced techniques for later though. For now, the sticks might be easiest for you to use. The computer is also capable of auto-pilot, but any half-trained pilot could down an auto-pilot fighter with their eyes shut. These are the fighter's onboard shield controls, and those are the camouflage field controls. Note the weapons controls, and the small-fuser controls. These are navigation and Z-Space controls. Many of these commands are also accessible via thought-speech command as well, but sometimes you need to be able to communicate with your wing-mates.>
<This monitor shows your small-fuser status. This shows your orientation in reference to the ship's surroundings. This display shows your weapons status, and this one shows your Z-Drive status.> The various displays light up as Eleric speaks. <Your engine status display is very important. All sorts of bad things start to happen if you over-work your engines. Loss of mobility is loss of life in a Fighter engagement.>
<Atmospheric flight is a different animal, but that can probably wait too. Everything adapts once you enter atmosphere, at any rate.>
<The ARC interfaces with the Tail-Fighter to augment your abilities and perceptions. It has two methods of output, the holo-projector at your eye, and thought-speech voice. When you step into a Tail-Fighter, or in this case, up to the pilot's console, your ARC will automatically sync with the fighter to provide you with an augmented HUD display.>
-
Aetheas trots along, lost in his thoughts, nearly a quarter of the way around the dome, before noticing Claxter ahead of him. He frowns and puts on some extra speed, pushing to get ahead of the Command Warrior.
-
Claxter was enjoying his run, and getting a bit of food while he went. Aetheas hadn't accelerated at first, so it took him a minute to realize that he had sped up after a while. Claxter casually increased his speed to put him arm's length ahead once more.
<We'll probably need to stop at a planet at some point to get the Humans better food. I'm not really sure what will be close to this rendevous we're heading to. Of course that assumes they don't just take off once they're reunited with their people.>
-
Aetheas doesn't realize Claxter's subtle challenge until the Command Warrior puts on still more speed. Aetheas isn't going to let Claxter win this unspoken race without a fight, and he pours on the speed, trying to get out in front of Claxter.
<I suppose,> he says, doing his best to concentrate on his footing and his breathing as he speaks. <I am still skeptical of these Yeerks and their humans. Captain Ossanlin seems to think that we will be stronger together, and I suppose he has spent more time around them than I have, but I find that working with others usually proves to be a hindrance. I respect the Captain, but I am not sure I share his optimism.>
-
<The Yeerk Myitt once saved Prince Ossanlin's life, and she is a good friend to him. Though even they have done things sometimes that strain Prince Ossanlin's trust in them. Myitt is really the only one he considers a friend, to my knowledge. I'm positive that the rebels are better than the imperials, though I'm not positive exactly how much.> Claxter says as he once again speeds up. <We desperately need a full crew, and feelings between the two groups will be strained a bit. I'm afraid I can't say much to convince anyone that they are trustworthy enough to be allowed access to the ship, but we're all in the same situation. For now, we need each other.>
-
<Enorryma, please run a tier three diagnostic on Apix 2 Coil alpha. Let's make sure the double-jump didn't disturb the emitter alignment.>
Ossanlin's order snaps Norry out of her reverie, and she realizes that she had zoned out at her post. Broken sleep and early stage stims withdrawal are no doubt compounding on the typical stresses of adjusting to a dome ship's daily rhythms, and she silently chastises herself for the lapse in her focus. Fortunately, nothing of note had come up so far on the ship's sensors and trajectory, so the lapse would be forgivable.
She toggles between the networked consoles' displays, beginning the tedious but familiar process of this particular system diagnostic programme. She doubles up the diagnostics and includes a parity check for the engine sub-stabilizer components as well; it makes the process take quite a bit longer but gives more comprehensive information. After perhaps half a standard hour, Norry feels satisfied that she has all the information the ship is likely to offer about its own performance and condition at this time.
<<Sir, diagnostics complete; the emitters remain in stable alignment, but two of the minor components show some oxidative weathering. I doubt it will be problematic during this venture, as they are rated for a much higher shear and compression level than our maneuvers so far have produced, but I advise we inspect them manually the next time the ship is fully stationary or in a real space stabilized orbit.>>
-
Ossanlin nods at Enorryma. <Thank you, Prince-Commander.> He switches to private thought-speech. <<As you know, we have a severely-limited crew complement at the moment...it's one of the many reasons that we need the rebels. For the time being though, we need to begin development of a necessity-based maintenance schedule.>>
-
<<I will send to your console a list of tasks in order of priority, with a second sorting column based on the frequency the tasks will need to be completed, and a third based on the level of skill required and the number of personnel on board who are qualified to complete each task.>> She sends him the assignment profiles, which she had already had compiling through the ship computers' spare cycles.
<<You will notice that most high-frequency tasks are fortunately low-complexity; I believe it will not be too difficult to arrange for humans to perform these, if you prefer.>>
-
Ossanlin nods as Enorryma speaks, looking over the files that she'd obviously already been working upon. <<Very good, Enorryma. It would seem you'd make a skilled First Officer if you weren't such a talented TO.>> Of course, there was no first officer at the moment, but administration was one of the FO's heaviest duties.
<<The Yeerk, Keslin, has demonstrated a willingness to help. I do not trust him completely, not yet. Myitt's word holds great value with me, but it's the only asset he has thus far. He appears to be a leader of sorts as well. He's twisted his tail backwards in an effort to place himself in a front position, and a few of the rebels appear to look to him for guidance, despite everything else.>> He pauses as he looks over the tasks. <<Most of these essential tasks involve at least some level of engineering...trust is what we need from them. I'll not let any of them near the Tyrennian's components without at least a small modicum of trust. An assurance that they would follow Andalite orders in an emergency situation...>> Ossanlin doesn't bring up the close shave with Sector Seven, but he certainly thinks of it strongly. If SS somehow found them again, people unwilling to follow orders would just be in the way.
-
<<Thank you, Sir; I would not think of it.>> She averts all four eyes at the compliment he pays.
<<How do you propose to achieve trust with them?>>
-
Ossanlin sighs internally. <<It will be difficult. We will need to take the first step. They have no choice but to trust us, and that sort of trust breeds resentment. Our former countrymen destroyed their home and killed hundreds of their friends and comrades...that leaves us holding the blade. I have asked Keslin for a list of those he believes would be trust-worthy, I plan on corroborating that list with Myitt. I would say it would be a good idea to ask the uninfested humans first, but that would merely lead to a false sense of security.>>
<<I have also allowed Keslin access to certain information. Nothing that would allow him to compromise the ship or crew, but I believe it's a safe step to take. I believe we should allow them all access to non-dangerous information.>>
Ossanlin pauses again before continuing. <<I trust that you understand, Enorryma...if anything should keep me from performing my duties, you will need to assume command of the Tyrennian.>>
-
She averts her eyes again and the second mention of her holding any office or duties beyond those of TO.
<<I will do what my Captain requires of me.>>
-
<True,> says Aetheas, trying to control his breathing for the run, his hearts pounding now. <The Tyrennian should not have gone rogue with less than the full crew compliment.> He bounds around a tree, then leaps over a shrub that seems to have come out of nowhere. <It almost seems we need these Yeerks more than they need us. I suppose the Captain must have a lot of faith in this 'Myitt' to be willing to cut us off from all support to help them. I am not sure I agree with his decision, but it is too late for second thoughts now.>
-
<His reaction to what happened may have been a bit rash, but all we can do is stand by him and support him.> Claxter as he began to struggle to keep up. Either he was getting too tired, or Aetheas was just faster than he was. His legs burned as he pushed himself. <It is true I'm not sure the rebels really need us as much as we need them. Who knows if they have some other base somewhere, fully stocked with supplies? It surprised me a little when I heard he was going to leave the military, but I knew I couldn't leave him.>
<I did something regrettable that probably would have come back to haunt me if I had left Prince Ossanlin. Even though I have grown past what I was, and still struggle a bit with it now.>
-
Aetheas finally stumbles, nearly falling on his face, and slows to a trot, panting. In spite of himself, he's smiling. There isn't much he likes more than a good run.
<Of course I support the Captain,> he says with an air of pretension. <This crew operates outside of the politics of the Electorate now. We may actually be able to make a difference like we never could have before. I, for one, am hoping that these rebels turn out to be all you claim.>
When Claxter begins speaking about something that might 'come back to haunt him,' Aetheas looks away slightly. He's never particularly interested in hearing the tales of woe of his fellow Andalites, but thus far he's not yet managed to find a non-awkward way of avoiding such conversations. <I... also could not leave the Captain,> he says neutrally. <He is the first commander I've had since leaving the Academy who's been able to look past my... disability.> His voice grows quiet when he mentions his 'disability'-- it's clear he's not comfortable talking about it.
-
Claxter slowed to a trot as well, almost moving his tail to help catch Aetheas, but the Aristh recovered well enough. Claxter was kind of glad he didn't pry about the regrettable thing. Everyone would probably find out one way or another, though. At least his problem had the fortune of being on the inside, instead of outside like Aetheas'. Fewer people would look at Claxter, knowing nothing about him, and scorn him for what he was. <Prince Ossanlin is a great Andalite.>
<That was a good run. I believe that gets the standard training done that we can do while in Z-Space. For flight practice we can either hit the simulator, or wait until we're back in real space. We can take another break first, though.>
-
Aetheas nods a stalk eye. He's not entirely sure 'progressive' is the same thing as 'great' when speaking about Ossanlin, but it's definitely a start. He's not about to voice that opinion to Claxter, though.
Aetheas closes his main eyes and sighs, attempting to steady his breathing. His hearts are still pounding. If they use one of the simulators, they'll definitely go past their scheduled time together, and Aetheas would as soon get back to his own free time as anything. On the other hand, though, he has been itching to get back behind the controls of a star fighter.
<Let's hit one of the simulators,> he says. He turns and begins walking towards the exit to the dome, taking his time to allow his breath to recover. <I would like another chance at the obstacle course.> The thought of his last performance in that particular simulation makes him wince.
-
<Simulator it is.> He waited a few more seconds, and started walking back to the room. He turned on the obstacle course piloting simulation. The goal was to chase a bugfighter through space with a lot of other ships, big and small. You had to avoid colliding with other ships, dodging blasts and debri, all while performing tight maneuvers while trying to shoot what must be the best bugfighter pilot in the galaxy. Claxter intended to sit this one out. He would soon be training to fly the Tyrennian, and would be on the bridge during future space battles.
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Efaen blinks slowly, trying not to let the overwhelmed feeling make it to her face. It is a lot of information to absorb at once, but she nods, walking over to the control panel, her main eyes flickering over the various functions. Her stalk eyes remain facing forward as well, a habit she has formed from spending so much time in human form. <Primary thrust, vectoring thrusters, atmospheric fins,> she echoes, resting a hand over each in turn. She takes a deep breath, then exhales. <Let us begin simply. How do I turn it on?> She glances at him and smiles a little with her eyes.
Keslin wraps Chris' arms around Myitt, holding her close. He doesn't move for a long time, letting her cry and crying himself, feeling incredibly helpless. "I need to sleep," he finally murmurs, kissing the top of her head tenderly, his lips moving in her hair. "Chris is dead on his feet, and we can't function much longer." Sighing, he pulls away. "And I need to see to Tess. But Myitt...we need to meet. All of us...us survivors. Free of Andalite ears." He smiles faintly, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. "We need to pull together, or we're just going to fall further apart."
"I'm not working with him," Terenia says, her voice scratchy. It is the first she has said in a long time, but the words are forceful enough. "We need to find the rest of our people and put as much distance between us and these Andalites as we can." She doesn't look up, her eyes on the protein bar that she has only taken a single bite of.
-
<That's a good question, Efaen.> Eleric smiles back. <There are several ways to start a Tail-Fighter. You can perform a cold-start with the panel controls, or by individually controlling each component, but the easiest way is to merely select one of the pre-programmed start-up sequences. Activating one of the programs by thought-speech will initiate the corresponding start-up.>
<There are four primary startup programs for Tail-Fighters. Alpha, Beta, Zeta, and Omega. The one you'll be using is Alpha, it's the most commonly-used startup sequence. It brings the components online in the safest, yet most-efficient manner possible. This is also referred to as a "soft-start," as it allows the components of the fighter to come on gradually, reducing overall system stress. Startup sequence Beta, known as a "hard-start," gives the components less time to "warm up" as it were, increasing stress on the entire system, but also significantly reducing startup times. Sequence Zeta is a diagnostic startup. It soft-starts and tests each individual component before bringing it online. Zeta is used mainly for diagnoses and repairs when you don't have access to a facility such as there is onboard the Tyrennian.> Eleric pauses a moment before elaborating further on the final sequence. <Startup Omega should never be used except in the direst of circumstances. The Omega sequence brings the fighter online and off the ground in the absolute quickest manner possible with complete disregard for the safety or maintenance of the ship. Omega has dire consequences, even if they aren't immediately apparent.>
He smiles again. <For now, simply address the computer with thought-speech and instruct it to begin Startup Sequence Alpha.>
-
Aetheas dons his simulated ARC display stations himself at the controls of the simulated Tail-Fighter, placing one hand on the control stick, feeling the familiar subtle vibration of the idling ship through his hands and his hooves. He activates the ARC's HUD, groaning when he sees its analysis of the debris field outside. three Blade Ships, one Pool Ship, and what looks like the remnants of an entire Andalite fleet and a good portion of a Yeerk one, floating in a thick asteroid field. This is not going to be an easy run.
He eases the fighter off the deck of the little simulated hangar ship that served as the starting point for this particular simulation. The layout of the debris field requires him to fully open the throttle almost immediately in order to avoid the Dracon fire from the nearer of the Blade Ships that rips apart the hangar ship as he exits-- he barely clears it as it explodes, the fireball singing his own fighter. Luckily, this is a newer model fighter, and he barely feels the acceleration. He makes an attempt to use some of the asteroids for cover as he rockets towards the target Bug Fighter, but heavy fire from three sides forces him to dodge wildly, turning, diving, rolling. He finds he's not really mentally prepared to be thrown so quickly into the thick of this simulation, and his flying is somewhat erratic while he tries desperately to regain his bearings.
Finally, however, he manages to fly into the thick of the debris field, and the fire from the larger ships dies away as they shift to try to get a better angle on him. Aetheas lights up the engines and rockets through the inside of a broken Mark II dome behind the Bug Fighter, then eases off the throttle a bit to follow its zig-zagging path through a particularly dense patch of smaller asteroids. The whole time, he stands, tensed, with his tail tucked down as though he's running, and keeps his main eyes glued to the Bug Fighter. His stalk eyes frantically scan the area above and below and to the sides of his craft, watching for obstacles and fire and Blade Ships. He finds himself wishing, as he usually does when piloting a fighter, that he had another set of eyes.
-
Claxter hadn't meant for the difficulty setting to start quite this high. He wondered if one of the more daring pilots had run this simulation last, and forgot to set the difficulty back. Still, he'd have to start it over to dial it back, so Aetheas would just have to deal. <make sure you keep an eye ahead of the bugfighter to try to predict which way it will move. Use allied ships as well as cover to keep from being fired at.>
It was exciting to watch, but he couldn't just stare in silence.
-
Aetheas twists out of the field of little asteroid chunks, watching as the Bug Fighter gets away. He searches, frantically, for a path through the debris that will allow him to gain ground. Thanks to this search, he happens to be looking exactly at the spot where a second Yeerk fleet emerges from Z-space, followed, seconds later, by a large Andalite fleet.
Great. It's one of those scenarios.
Within moments, the space around him has erupted with an endless hail of blue and red fire, explosions and new debris exploding everywhere. Swarms of Bug Fighters and Tail-Fighters erupt from the capital ships as though they can't get out fast enough. At least the new ships seem to have distracted the three Blade Ships from concentrating all their fire on him.
For a few moments, in his surprise, he loses sight of the target Bug Fighter, and is unable to pick it out until he orders his ARC to mark it for a moment-- a minor cheat that will cost him some points in the final score, but at least it will keep him from losing the target Bug entirely.
As he banks hard to avoid an asteroid he'd almost plowed into, a nearby explosion rattles the fighter. <Remind me to check the difficulty settings before running this simulation next time!> he yells. For the most part, Aetheas and Claxter have been the only ones to use this program, since most of the pilots tend to stick to more realistic scenarios, so it seems they've both gotten used to simply activating the program, but it looks like one of the pilots decided to give the 'obstacle course' a shot recently. This is a significantly higher setting than they left it on. <Yaaahhhhhh!> he yells, weaving between a trio of Tail-Fighters that blow by him, heading the opposite direction with engines and Shredders blazing.
-
This was getting to be too much for Claxter keep track of, and he wasn't even sure what sort of advice to give. Things happened so fast, just watching it made him dizzy. <If you can land a hit or two on it, it will make the bugfighter easier to distinguish. After that, it may be best to try to swing around the outside of the combat, and look for an opening from there. Just try to stay out of the core of the battle and try to get your bearings. That is, if you aren't just supposed to stay on its tail regardless, trying to get off at least one clean shot. Right now I kind of forget the exact objective.>
-
"Are you talking about me or Ossanlin?" states Keshin with a slight roll of his eyes, glancing at Terenia. "This is the first you've spoken in days. If you're talking about Ossanlin, we're not thrilled with the situation either but it has to be done. In my case, you don't get less trusted than being surrounded by people you've shot at least once, but...." Keshin rubs the back of Joanne's head with an awkward look. "....you make do. The Rebellion is wasted at the moment. Reven and many of the other major players are dead, and the rest are pretty messed up. Trusting the Andalites a while gets you needed resources."
"If you mean me..." Keshin gives her a sideways grin. "...too bad. I'm here, a Yeerk, and when healthy pretty good with a Dracon."
-
Aetheas takes Claxter's advice-- he fires three shots wildly at the target Bug Fighter. At the distance it's managed to put between them in the last few seconds, his accuracy isn't great, but the third shot connects, leaving a scorch mark across the Bug's hull in the shape of a teardrop. Superficial damage, but enough to spot it by. Satisfied, he yanks the controls to the right, barely barrel-rolling out of the way of a swarm of incoming missiles.
He hits the throttle and rockets away from the core of the battle, the simulated fighter rattling heavily under Dracon impacts. Not following the Bug closely will lose him points, but his instincts, and the quick, cursory calculation he's run in his head, tell him that he can get a higher score by waiting for an opportunity to strike, like Claxter suggested, than by getting blown apart in the battle exploding around them.
He cuts the throttle and maneuvers sideways, as quickly as possible, into a canyon in one of the larger asteroids. In the few seconds of respite he has, the time before the asteroid's rotation again brings him into the main battle, he runs a check on the fighter's damage-- shields are already failing, and one of the engines is running hot. It must be damaged.
<How do the pilots do this?> he asks, turning a stalk eye to Claxter.
-
<Honestly I think battles are usually a bit more controlled than this. Pilots are usually trained for heightened reflexes, and doing some things on an almost unconscious level. Not to mention that often there are teams using formations and plans briefed on before the battle. This obstacle course is designed for practice on the former.>
-
Aetheas does his best to steady his breathing. <They are not,> he spits, <superAndalite. If those idiots can do this, so can I.> A few seconds later, the asteroid rotates, putting him back in the line of fire. He hits the throttle, rocketing out of the canyon just as a duo of flaming tail-fighters plow into the wall and release a slow-motion rockslide.
He flies erratically in the direction he remembers the target last having been, scanning the space around him with his stalk eyes. Luck is with him, and he spots the target Bug within seconds. Aetheas's fighter shakes violently as he swings around to fly towards it-- he's been hit! Glancing at his display, he can see a second Bug turning to follow him. Aetheas rolls, hard, narrowly avoiding a second Dracon. A second glance at his panel reveals the Bug that had decided to tail him trailing sparks and flame as a Tail-Fighter, in turn, drops in behind it.
<Yeah!> he shouts, then looks around. <No!> It seems he's lost the target Bug yet again.
-
<It circled around the asteroid while you were distracted.> Claxter said. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to be directly helping aetheas like that, but he was getting excited and wanted to see him win. <You want to be fast, but watch your system as well to keep from over stressing it too early. Since your engine is practically underneath you, and early warning sign of overheating is when the floor starts to feel warm to your hooves.>
-
Efaen nods. <Startup Sequence Alpha,> she echoes, trying to sound more sure of herself than she feels. She watches the holographic ship respond to her command, glancing at Eleric for a sign of approval, that the 'ship' is behaving as it should. With a little reluctance, she spares him a stalk eye, though the expression on her face makes it clear that seeing in all four directions at once makes her uncomfortable.
<What sort of consequences?> she asks after a moment, placing a hand gently on the edge of one of the consoles, her main eyes skimming them, absorbing as much information as possible.
-
<Thank you,> Aetheas says, nodding a stalk eye towards Claxter. He immediately regrets taking that portion of his attention off of the battle outside-- he's forced to jerk the controls, hard, to avoid the flaming remains of a Bug Fighter that flies out of the blind spot created by his momentarily-distracted stalk eye.
Heeding Claxter's advice, Aetheas opens the throttle all the way and rockets towards the large asteroid. He attempts to use its gravity to assist his maneuver, but miscalculates slightly, and ends up swinging very wide around the backside of the asteroid-- the target Bug is nearly out of range already when Aetheas spots it. Aetheas cuts the throttle, spins the craft, and fires the engines on full again. His miscalculation means they have to work even harder to cancel his existing momentum, and as he makes his wide turn, the Bug spots him and again rockets away, around the asteroid and towards the main battle. Aetheas fires a few shots as it speeds away, but they miss entirely, going on to dissipate over a billion miles of space.
Aetheas gains on the Bug quickly, with his engines fully open and his lack of maneuvering. As Claxter warned, he begins to notice a warmth radiating up through his hooves. Aetheas throttles back, now within firing distance of the Bug yet again, and attempts to stay on its tail, flying through the chaotic mess of debris and explosions without even panicking much. He fires repeatedly, but the few shots that do connect are merely glancing blows.
-
Eleric watches Efaen as the open ****pit comes to life. He commands the simulation to change slightly, a training fighter materializing around the open ****pit. The simulation begins to add perfectly-replicated sounds as the hull of the ship materializes around himself and Efaen. <That was good, you're a natural.> He grins winningly in response to Efaen starting up the ship.
<It's impossible to say exactly what will fail, save that the likelihood of a critical failure is increased more than ten-fold with a sequence Omega startup. If nothing fails, you will certainly irreversibly damage components and further increase the chances of failure on the next startup.> Aetheas pauses for a moment before realizing that he hasn't really elaborated on Efaen's question. <I suppose, more specifically, containment could fail in your small-fuser. That would obliterate the fighter and everything around it within a five-meter radius. Further out, serious damage is still likely with the outbound blast-wave. One or both of the plasma nacelles could fail. The explosion would not be nearly so energetic, but it would still render the fighter useless, and possibly kill the pilot in the process.>
He smiles again as Efaen finally uses one of her stalk-eyes properly, and he trots a bit closer. Not close enough to invade Efaen's personal bubble, but close enough to peer over her shoulder at the control panel. <Once the fuser has reached an acceptable equilibrium and the engine nacelles have warmed, you can command the ship to lift off. I would recommend commanding it to undertake an automatic exit trajectory. Normally you would have to clear activation, lift-off, and egress with hangar command. Since this is a simulation, we can skip that part. Once you have us out in "space," you can try using the control sticks. The left controls linear thrust, the right controls rotational thrust.>
-
Aetheas seemed to be doing better, but wasn't able to get a clean shot and finish the bug. <When it dodges a blast directly from behind, try to shoot slightly ahead in the direction it's going so it will fly into the blast. Try to use your shots to cage it in until you can hit his engines and finish it off.>
It was hectic trying to follow the bug and take it down while also being aware of everything else going on around. It was enough to give someone a headache.
-
Myitt nods woodenly, sniffling and wiping irritably at the tears on her cheeks.
"Yeah," she breathes. "We do need to meet. On our own terms, with our own goals." She gives Chris a broken smile. "I guess I haven't been that great at this whole 'leading' thing. But we'll get there." She nods, more to encourage herself.
-
Aetheas begins making an attempt to 'cage' the target with his firing pattern. His accuracy is questionable at best under these circumstances, but it seems to be working reasonably well-- at least he's scoring more hits now.
Finally, one shot connects and one of the target's engines blows clean off the ship, sending the Bug Fighter spinning through the debris field. <Yes!> shouts Aetheas. With renewed confidence, he again ups the throttle, firing repeatedly at the Bug Fighter as it struggles to regain control.
It only takes a few seconds for Aetheas to completely disintegrate the Bug. <Yes!> he yells. As the Bug evaporates, one of the Blade Ships that Aetheas had apparently forgotten to track sideswipes his own fighter. The simulation ends immediately, flashing a message telling Aetheas that his fighter has been destroyed, and that the mission has been failed.
Aetheas groans, but turns to Claxter with a grin in spite of himself. <I did it!>
-
<Congratulations! I think we'll count this as a win, despite that last second. Real battles are typically not that chaotic, after all. You did a great job all around, and I'll make sure that goes in my report. I suppose the hour is up, and you're free to do any other tasks you have for your shift. Try not to seclude yourself too much for the rest of the day, ok? That's an order.> Claxter said. He had noticed Aetheas spending a lot of time alone, and felt it was best that he socialized more. He didn't want to force it, though, since socializing is supposed to be fun, so he just said to try not to be a loner.
The Aristh usually ran off as soon as his hour was up, but Claxter didn't hurry along to try to find Varekil, since he didn't want to give aetheas reason to think Claxter didn't want to be around him. He simply walked outside the room, and stretched a bit, then checked on what simulation Eleric and Efaen were doing in the next room. He accessed a screen that mentioned it was occupied, and told him they were doing a flight simulation.
That sent mental alarm bells buzzing in his head. Had Efaen asked to learn how to fly a fighter to make her possible escape attempt easier? Obviously if she just jumped in a docked fighter, the bridge wouldn't open the hatch without good reason, but if she was going out as a training session, it would be more possible for her to hit Z-Space before anyone realizes what she's doing.
Bursting in the room and scolding her was about the worst way to handle this. He had to think of something else. He decided he'd just talk with Eleric about it. <Warrior Eleric, this is Command Warrior Claxter. I need to see you in the Dome for a moment.> He said in his best, if a bit unpracticed, authoritative tone. He didn't make it a habit of verbalizing his rank, but he needed Eleric to listen to him, and as a gentle reminder that Claxter was a superior officer.
-
Eleric smiles again, watching Efaen familiarize herself with the fighter. What could be better than teaching a girl how to fly? It was the perfect combination.
His enjoyable reverie is broken up by the sound of a thought-speech voice being transmitted through the simulation-room's sonic emitters. He recognizes Claxter's tone just as the other male identifies himself. He frowns in annoyance...Efaen had just begun to display some tentative signs of rapport with him, and Claxter's interruption seems likely to spoil it.
Nettle him as it did, Claxter outranked him...it wouldn't do any good to be insubordinate, that would merely function to highlight Eleric's own lesser rank in front of Efaen. <Please excuse me...just familiarize yourself with the controls and maybe fly around a bit...I need to speak with Claxter for a moment.>
The simulation phases him out of Efaen's environment and he exits the deck, standing eye-to-eye with Claxter, their heights almost identical. The simulator door closes behind him. <You wanted to see me, Command Warrior?> Eleric enunciates the "Command" portion of Claxter's title. Not precisely disrespectful, but very close to it. Technically Claxter had said he wanted to speak with Eleric in the Dome...a conversation here in the hallway would give some of the initiative back to Eleric.
-
Eleric seemed a bit annoyed, and didn't come all the way out. It made Claxter wonder if he should have simply asked, but that was often the thought that came to him when he tried using authority. At least he was here.
<<I'm not sure why you decided to give Efaen instructions on how to fly a fighter, and I suppose any excuse for her to spend extended time in her natural form is a good thing, but if you plan on letting her use a real ship, I want you to deactivate the Z-Space drive and take all but one power cell out of the craft before she leaves the docking bay. Also I don't want you to tell her I think she'll use this to help her fly off on us. She may just want to learn to fly, which is pretty crucial in space.>> He said, as unlikely as the latter guess was.
<<Also if you're going to be in the same craft, and in tight quarters with her, I'd better not hear of any unauthorized physical contact.>> He was afraid the tone of of his last sentence may have sounded more like an overprotective boyfriend or brother than a superior officer, but hopefully that was just him.
-
<Maybe I'll try that simulation again next time!> Aetheas says enthusiastically. <Maybe I'll see if the difficulty setting goes any higher!>
Aetheas sighs at Claxter's 'order' that he not seclude himself. He's not sure what, exactly, Claxter thinks there is to be gained by interacting with the idiots that make up most of the crew. Though it might make a nice change of pace. As the only aristh aboard, the only tasks assigned to him are low-priority, and he has no desire to do any of them now, not while he's in a good mood.
<Yes, Command Warrior,> he says. Even to him, it comes across less as more childish than he'd intended.
He trots a short way down the corridor, but stops and turns a stalk eye to watch as Claxter speaks to Eleric.
-
"You're not alone," Keslin says, as firmly as he can, swallowing back the lump of emotion. "You don't have to do this alone, alright? The pirates are more likely to listen to me anyhow, no offense. I just...I need to see Tess. And...and James." He swallows again, his eyes misting over. "We'll meet," he says. "Let me get some sleep, and then we'll meet."
Efaen watches the ship's various holoscreens, waiting until it appears as though all of the systems have come online. Then she sends the order for the lift-off sequence to begin, letting her hands find the manual control sticks. They feel strange in her Andalite hands, even though they are clearly built for them.
<Like this?> she asks, looking to him for approval. Her thoughts are interrupted by those of Claxter, invading the ship. Her small smile fades, expression shifting to one of curiosity and vague annoyance. She returns her attention to the viewscreen. her frown deepens as Eleric exits the ship, but she says nothing, focusing on learning to control the simulated ship.
"I'm talking about both of you," Terenia says gruffly, dropping her eyes to her knees. "I don't give a **** if you're a Yeerk or not. You tried to kill me. You tried to kill people I care about, and more than once." Her eyebrows raise a little as she lifts her gaze to Keshin's. "And you look like you can barely stand up straight. You're a liability."
-
<Higher? You know I thought about joking that we'd have to put you on there all the time since you kind of passed, but i didn't want to stress you out, and you wonder if there's a higher one? You're a wild one, aren't you?> Claxter said. He was glad Aetheas had stuck around.
He waited for Eleric to respond. Hopefully he understood and wouldn't have questions, but just giving an order and walking off was a bit rude.
-
Keshin and Joanne, as if for the first time, notice exactly how ill they really look. They're used to simply plugging on through this state regardless of how they feel---it's the life of a turelek. Yet they've been leaning on various surfaces with Joanne's arm and their posture is sagging.
<Hey, Kess. It's time. There's no way we can do this forever.>
<Yeah, I know. Unfortunate.>
Keshin then rifles around in Joanne's jumpsuit pockets with some consternation and retrieves a peculiar colorless liquid inside a syringe. There isn't much there at all. Keshin rolls up Joanne's jumpsuit sleeve to reveal an admittedly pockmarked left arm and hunts for a vein to use, which he then inserts the syringe into expertly. They have the poise of an old-school diabetic and barely flinch.
When finished, Keshin looks at Terenia again and states, "....satisfied now? When it takes effect, that'll give us about four days to a week of competency for you. The Rebellion does not have the option right now of picking and choosing who fights for it, Terenia. I am one of the only Yeerks on the entire ship right now who isn't compromised by grief. If you won't work with us, you can stay behind---- but I would rather you grew up."
-
Eleric's expression shifts from neutral to confused as Claxter mentions disarming the fighter's Z-Drive capabilities. <Why would she...? I'm teaching her because she's interested in re-learning how to pilot after what those over-zealous Yeerks did, and I'm one of the best pilots in the military. Prince Commander Enorryma is much too busy at the moment to be giving lessons, so I'm overwhelmingly the best choice to teach her.>
Another look of confusion crosses his face as Claxter speaks of "inappropriate physical contact" before the light of understanding sparks behind his eyes. So, Command Warrior Claxter had his sights on pretty Efaen as well. <I doubt Prince Ossanlin would approve of an external training exercise, but If I manage to convince him, I will do as you say. I suppose we can't be too careful.> He pauses and smiles a bit wryly before speaking up again. <And don't worry about physical contact, Command Warrior...she doesn't seem all that interested....yet.> He barely contains his smirk, instead passing it off as a respectfully-joking smile. He performs a tail-salute, giving Claxter a slight upper bow as well before commanding the simulator open and walking back in. He doesn't wait to be dismissed.
The simulation phases him back in and he walks up behind Efaen, smiling apologetically. <Forgive me for having to step out, but it seems that Claxter is keeping an eye on you.> He looks around the simulation and widens his eyes a bit. <Well how about that? You don't even need me here...most pilot-trainees take weeks to reach this level of proficiency. It seems you were born to pilot a Tail-Fighter, Efaen. Keep it up and you could even join Lightningstrike! I'd feel safer with another skilled pilot on my wing.> He smiles broadly, taking a risk and patting Efaen on the shoulder in a casual, friendly manner before removing his hand and giving her a bit more space. He doesn't want to push too much after all.
-
<Good.> Claxter said. He didn't like that yet that Eleric included, or the little smirk. He kind of expected that to go differently, but at least if the Warrior did what he was told, Efaen wouldn't be going anywhere far. He left the hall, back into the dome. He should probably find Varekil, but he didn't really want to speak openly about Efaen's chip in front of Aetheas. Nor did he want to have a long private conversation with him just hanging around getting bored. He supposed he'd put it off a little bit longer.
He recalled the conversation with Keshin, regarding the Escafil Device. He should probably talk to Ossanlin about it. He thought maybe he should have run it past his superior before talking to Keshin, but he had wanted to give her a spark of hope. It was already general knowledge that Dome Ships typically carried the boxes, wasn't it?
<I'm going to see if Prince Ossanlin has a free moment to talk about something I mentioned to the bounty hunter. You want to come?> He asked Aetheas.
-
Aetheas turns a stalk eye to Claxter, a bit surprised, as he always is when someone wants to see him who isn't required to.
He hesitates-- he really would like to just run off and spend time on his own, but then, Claxter wasn't going to allow him to do that anyway. If accompanying Claxter to see Ossanlin can be counted as 'social,' it's preferable to the alternative, which is attempting to 'mingle' with other members of the crew.
<Okay,> he says tentatively, turning towards the bridge. It still feels strange to be setting out for the bridge at all, let alone so soon after his shift there has ended.
-
<Thanks> Claxter said, and headed towards the bridge, where he believed Ossanlin was. Once he entered, he found Ossanlin, and did a small tail salute. It was something he didn't really do back at the Bar, but was starting to pick up on as he spent time with other Andalites that did it.
<Prince Ossanlin, do you have a minute? I would like to speak with you about a possible solution to Joanne's illness problem.>
-
Ossanlin takes a break from poring over ship status reports and glances at Claxter with his main eyes. <Joanne's illness? It's not a terribly pressing concern, and you certainly don't need to be worrying about it, though I must say I'm glad to hear that you're concerned with the rebels' plight.> He pauses, glancing at Aetheas with a stalk-eye. Apparently Claxter had taken the training long. <But I do have a little time at the moment. Share your insights.> He gestures to Claxter with a hand, giving the Command Warrior his full attention.
-
Aetheas follows Claxter to the bridge. Upon arrival, he stands to the side, out of the way of the current bridge crew, not far from the station he'd been assigned for his recent shift, and gives his best tail-salute when Ossanlin glances his way, but other than that, he remains silent, curiously listening to whatever it is Claxter has to say.
-
<She told me she was getting to the point where the medicine wouldn't help much longer, and this was after the news of the child's death. It occurred to me that she may use the morphing power to become a nothlit, and use the frolis maneuver to make her own body. I have already spoken to her about it, and if she gets a couple of rebels to volunteer, it will be her best chance to begin anew.> Claxter said. <I will, of course, volunteer to personally ensure she remains in form for over two hours. Would this be alright with you?>
He really got the feeling he should have done this part before talking to Joanne. If she got the rebels to volunteer some DNA, and got hopeful, but Ossanlin said no, that could make her seriously resent him. If she felt like she was about to die anyway, she may decide to take Ossanlin with her? Hopefully he was overthinking this, though.
They did actually have a box on board, right?
-
Ossanlin narrows his main eyes, glancing around the bridge with a stalk eye. <What you suggest might work, Command Warrior, but it sets a dangerous precedent. There are many pitfalls. For example, what if Joanne does not remain in morph for the full two hours? What if she refuses to do so after being granted the morphing capability? What would you do, Command Warrior? Would you execute Joanne? I'm not about to gift morphing to such an untrustworthy and...disreputable pair as Joanne and Keshin. It would be as bad, if not worse, than giving the morphing capability to an Imperial.>
He pauses, allowing that to sink in before continuing on. <And what of the others? Would the other rebels start asking to receive morphing capabilities once they learn for certain that the Escafil device is onboard? Would they resent Keshin for being given the chance? Would they resent us for withholding the technology in such a time of need? I only trust one of those rebels, Claxter, and that's Myitt. And even though I would trust her with my life, I am not convinced that giving her the morphing capabilities would be a good idea. She has...surprised me recently, in an unsettling and questionable manner. I'm not willing to grant morphing to any of the rebels, so what would we tell them if they asked? 'We don't trust you.' That is not the goal we need to be working toward.>
Ossanlin pauses again, glancing at Aetheas with his main eyes before returning his gaze to Claxter. <That is not to say that your idea would not solve Joanne's medical issues once and for all. I merely need you to contemplate these issues before going any further with your idea. Out of curiosity, what would you do in a situation where Joanne had been infused with the morphing technology, but then refused to nothlitize?>
-
<If you are worried about her refusing to nothlitize, we could separate her from Keshin, and not return her until the two hour period is over. I assume she would also be confined to a room, and would not be released if she didn't. As for the others, they are not cripplingly sick. If they happened to get injured...I'm not sure. I would not want to hand over morphing power to other species unless there was a dire need. I'm sure we can come up with good reasons to not hand technology over to controllers to use however they want.>
Ossanlin was bringing up uncertainties he hadn't thought of. The more he thought about it, the less certain he was that it was a great idea. <We can't control every scenario. We just have to do what we think is correct, take reasonable precautions, and cross bridges into the unknown when we arrive.>
-
<There is some merit in that mode of thinking, Claxter, but a good officer must temper that attitude with a measure of caution. Wild leaps into the unknown cost lives. Lives that could've been saved if precautions had merely been implemented. We cannot hold a prisoner forever...we do not have the resources, and such an individual would cause a constant internal threat. Of course it goes without saying that Keshin would not be present during the morphing and nothlitization process. I would need to be certain of Joanne's personal desires before going through with such a procedure, and each step would have to be done by her own will. Keshin is capable of nearly anything, and I wouldn't put it past him to exert his will over Joanne if she ever disagreed with him.>
Ossanlin gazes at Claxter intently with his main eyes. <And there is control to think about. The medicine...as much as I might dislike saying or even thinking this, the medicine is a leash. A shackle to which we hold the key. Keshin could do a lot of damage to us with the knowledge he already has, and he's escaped more secure locations than the Tyrennian to be sure. The promise of a potential steady supply of serum binds Joanne to us. If we cure her illness...> Ossanlin grimaces, looking over at Aetheas again before continuing. <Now is not the time to take risks. Joanne and Keshin will keep for a while. Perhaps once the situation has stabilized, it will be a possibility.> Ossanlin nods as if making up his mind. <Yes, it will be a possibility if Joanne and Keshin prove loyal. We will offer them the option once I deem it to be suitably safe to do so. Our first priority beyond sustaining the Tyrennian remains the rendezvous with and recovery of living rebel survivors.>
-
<I apologize for letting my emotions guide my actions, sir. Using the medicine to ensure loyalty would be a viable check, but only as long as it works. Perhaps Keshin will prove his loyalty before it stops working altogether. Thank you for your time, Prince Ossanlin. That is all I needed.> He gave a slight bow, and excused himself.
That was a disappointing venture. Now how would Keshin and Joanne be able to prove themselves loyal enough to be worthy of a new body? They really didn't seem like horrible people. He walked through the hall, towards the dome to find them and tell them the news. <What do you think you would do, Aetheas? Keshin and Joanne are bounty hunters who do what they do because she needs medicine. at least to my knowledge.>
-
Aetheas follows Claxter from the bridge, eying the Captain with a stalk eye. This kind of thought-out decision making isn't something he's used to seeing in his superiors-- normally, around an aristh, most Andalite officers would pretend to have all the answers already, even if they were wrong, or if they were the result of hasty decisions. Aetheas feels his respect for Claxter and Ossanlin grudgingly climb a notch. He begins speaking before they reach the exit from the bridge-- still well within thoughtshot of Ossanlin.
<I am not sure,> he answers Claxter honestly as he struggles to absorb all the information he's just heard. <They are dangerous bounty hunters, you said. And the host... Joanne... one of the human rebels? The host is sick or dying, and we hold all of the keys to her survival.> He ponders for a moment, <In this circumstance, there is no course for this 'Keshin' except for loyalty to us, but...> He pauses and again glances towards Ossanlin with a stalk eye, <Wouldn't holding this 'leash' breed resentment? It's a viable check only so long as this 'Keshin' doesn't find another supply of medicine. And nothlitizing the host as another human... may cause them to feel gratitude, and lead to some sense of true loyalty, or at least indebtedness, but at the same time it would cut our leash, our check on them.> He looks uncertainly at Claxter, <Do I have it so far?>
-
<That is correct. There will come a time when the medicine just isn't going to work anymore, and I believe it will be soon. I think curing her may result in true loyalty, but it's not a guarantee. I'm not sure what Keshin and Joanne could do to prove to Prince Ossanlin that they will change for the better without the medicine. I can only hope they don't die before that happens. To have someone die when you know you can save them...>
They reach the dome, and Claxter walks to Myitt's room where he believes they went. Joanne was indeed in there, but so was Terenia. He decided it was best to not even acknowledge her existence. <Hello, Keshin and Joanne? May I speak you you a moment outside, please?>
-
Efaen jumps a little. She had been focusing on piloting the holographic spaceship, and in doing so her stalk eyes had drifted to facing front once more. She hadn't heard Eleric enter, and his sudden proximity makes her jerk the fighter off course. Quickly, she compensates, adjusting the manual controls.
<It is not that difficult,> she says, unable to help but smile a little. <So long as you remember to think in three dimensions, instead of two.> One stalk eye does follow his hand as it touches her shoulder. She doesn't flinch or pull away, though she doesn't return the gesture either, quickly returning her attention to the screen.
<What did Claxter want?> she asks after a moment of silence, trying to sound disinterested.
Terenia watches Keshin's little display, her lip curling. "Grow up?" she echoes lowly crumpling the protein bar wrapper in one fist as she slowly gets to her feet, taking a step towards Keshin. "Listen to me, turelek, and listen good. You are directly responsible for the murder and attempted murder of people I care about." She jabs a finger in Joanne's chest, her voice gaining heat. "You tried to kill me, you did kill another rebellion member, you've tried to kill Myitt. The only assurance I have that you aren't going to turn in the lot of us the second you manage to get off this ship is your word. And thanks to you I know better than to trust the word of a dapsen bounty hunter." Her eyes narrow dangerously. "I don't forgive attempted murder very easily, Keshin. I don't forget. And I don't trust you not to betray us as soon as a better situation comes along. So **** you. I don't want your help."
-
Ossanlin watches Claxter and Aetheas go before turning back to his ship logs. He hopes silently that Claxter has not forgotten that his first hands-on lesson with the Tyrennian's helm is supposed to be taking place very soon. He raises his eyebrow as Aetheas discusses his own thoughts on the matter loudly enough for him to hear. The younger Andalite seems to have a sufficient grasp of the situation, though not the years of experience to temper that understanding. Claxter seems to grasp the danger now, though.
Keshin is a free radical...unpredict able. Perhaps the curing of Joanne's disease would earn loyalty, but Ossanlin isn't sure that Keshin is capable of loyalty. Or even of believing in a cause. And yet, Joanne and Keshin had displayed the most gratitude out of any of the rescued prisoners, rebel Yeerks and humans included. It could indeed be an act, but a portion of Ossanlin's mind, the ever-optimistic portion, wants to believe that there might actually be a grain of truth hidden in that display.
-
Eleric smiles back at Efaen, noting the lack of negative reaction to his touch. <Yes, the third dimension is important. Once you have a feel for the controls, maneuvering possibilities open up. You also need to note momentum. Braking thrusters are very effective, but you can't turn right angles. Every turn at speed will be an arc.>
Eleric furrows his brow in mock consternation. <He just wanted to make sure I wasn't being irresponsible.> He breaks into a grin, chuckling to himself. <He seems rather concerned with what you're doing, but his training for command duties does demand some of his attention. Hopefully we won't be interrupted again.>
-
Aetheas seems lost in thought. <I hadn't realized the Captain was so cold, to cut this 'Keshin' off from a cure to serve his own ends. I suppose he shows a different face to members of his crew. I will have to remember that if I'm ever tempted to leave the Tyrennian,> he says, smiling a little to show that he is at least partly joking.
As they approach the room in which Claxter seems to believe 'Keshin' will be, Aetheas catches the end of one human's tirade, apparently aimed at the very Yeerk they seek for 'attempted murder.' Curious, Aetheas stops off the the side of the doorway, out of sight of the room's occupants, and listens with interest.
A transmission, aimed at Keshin, sears through the endless expanse of white Z-space through which the Tyrennian moves.
-
<<He has a lot of things to take into consideration when making risky decisions.>> Claxter said. <<It isn't the way I would do things, but I'm not the one with the burden of leadership.>>
He isn't sure why terenia is yelling at Keshin, except that perhaps Keshin is trying to make some sort of agreement with the rebels inside. He and Joanne are not affiliated with any group on the ship, and that's likely a source of stress.
-
"I don't expect you to forgive murder, actual or attempted," Keshin says while crossing his arms. His expression is impatient and tired. "However, you can see reason and understand that I am as trapped as you are. My medicine supplies are shot and my Bug fighter is gone. I am surrounded by Ossanlin's Warriors and any traitorous actions now would be suicide. I owe Ossanlin my life and some of my service for saving us back there, Terenia. I have no idea why he would do it, but for now you have me on your side. Accept it or not, but do not get in my way."
Keshin turns around notice Claxter and blinks, looking momentarily awkward. He did just more or less threaten a person onboard, given his occupation. "Er...aherm. If we have quarrels, we'd of course take them upon landing off the ship. Do you have a message for me? About the Escafil option, possibly? "
Keshin blinks in confusion. An odd beeping sound was emanating from his pocket, too. Someone else had a message for him? ....they could not have picked a worse time to call for a job if they were trying.
Keshin simply facepalmed at this and mumbled, "....worst day of my life."
-
Claxter could tell this probably wasn't a great time to tell Keshin the somewhat bad news, but holding it off may not be any better.
<I spoke to Prince Ossanlin about it, but he is hesitant to do so. He feels he needs to be able to trust you more before he agrees to allow you to become a nothlit. I do not have any immediate ideas on how you could prove yourself to him, but I would be willing to assist you in that. I'm sorry if I got your hopes up too soon.>
<I can come back at another time if you'd prefer. I am kind of on shift, and should be seen working.>
-
~Narration Post~
Iksilon commanded the office’s work-desk to slide down into the floor, leaving the semi-circular room completely empty of objects save himself, the disgraced Prince, and the two guards carrying him. They laid his body on the floor and began to demorph.
<Leave us.> Iksilon commanded. The two bodyguards obeyed, taking up positions with the other two outside the office door before it slid shut and locked on Iksilon’s command. Iksilon activated a couple of devices on his belt, and then knelt down, injecting Kyran with a stimulant.
The War Prince’s eyes fluttered open and caught the sight of Iksilon standing over him. Kyran’s expression flooded with a white-hot rage that Iksilon had rarely seen in any Andalite. His legs twitched as if to stand…his right arm as if trying desperately to reach for the Shredder still holstered at his belt. Kyran’s eyes widened as his limbs refused to obey, then widened further as if in greater realization.
Iksilon smiled deeply at the War Prince’s helplessness. There was just something about a large, alpha-attitude male laying helpless before him that gave Iksilon a thrill. Kyran was handsome, by Andalite standards. Iksilon felt a sort of physical attraction to him, though that attraction was more than adequately off-put by Kyran’s painfully-obvious idiocy.
Iksilon used the office’s suspension fields to lift Kyran’s paralyzed form up to his chest-level, the War Prince cradled by the invisible field. <How do you like my little toy, Kyran? It emits a high-intensity thought-speech wave that causes complete physical paralysis in unshielded thought-speech users. I assume you’ve also discovered that it nullifies one’s ability to morph. The military heads didn’t like it…it seemed too-perfectly targeted toward Andalites, they said. But there are so very many uses.> He walked up to the Prince and slowly caressed the being’s face with the back of his hand where he’d struck it before.
Kyran shuddered with involuntarily-restrained rage. <Don’t you dare touch me! The Alpha-Lord will have your head!>
Iksilon only smiled more deeply, and wound his arm into another full backhand to the larger male’s cheek. <I cannot believe your stupidity. I am the Alpha-Lord, you blundering idiot. The official Alpha-Lord is a decoy. The fact that you believed him to be the actual Alpha-Lord proves that you should never have been allowed a berth with Sector Seven in the first place.>
Kyran’s eyes widened in fear and disbelief. <That’s not possible! GUARDS! GUARDS TO THE COMMANDER’S OFFICE!>
Iksilon chuckled, caressing Kyran’s cheek again. <Another one of my little toys, Kyran…a thought-speech shroud. No one can hear us. It doesn’t matter how loudly you…scream.> Iksilon’s smile deepened and Kyran’s eyes finally began to display actual panic and true terror. Iksilon nearly shivered with pleasure.
<You know then…this was your last chance, Kyran. It was supposed to be a station to keep you from doing any more harm…an assignment even you could not fail. And yet, you’ve not only failed, but done so in spectacular fashion as is your usual mode of operation.> Iksilon walked slowly around Kyran’s paralyzed form as he spoke, caressing the muscular curves of the larger male’s body as if savoring the feeling.
<You cannot be allowed to live, Kyran. You’ve proven yourself incapable, and not only that, but dangerous as well. You’ll die here, Prince.> Iksilon’s calm expression deepened into another smile. It wasn’t so much the thought of killing Kyran that brought about the expression…it was more the thought of finally removing a particularly painful and irritating splinter. Ossanlin’s death and now Kyran’s…what a spectacular month.
<No…no, Alpha-Lord. I can still be useful! I have information, insights…I know everything about this facility and everyone who works in it! I can only supply you with these things if I’m alive!> Kyran’s entire body trembled, likely from a combination of shock onset and fear…blood was still dripping from the Prince’s severed tail-stump to pool on the floor, passing through the fields that held his body up.
<Useful?> Iksilon smiled and patted Kyran’s rump. <What…would you be willing to do, exactly?> Iksilon allowed some silkiness to slide into his tone, walking back around to Kyran’s front, slowly drawing his tail-blade along the Prince’s hard jaw-line just softly enough to avoid cutting the skin.
Kyran shuddered with a combination of fear and revulsion, but spoke in forced tones. <Anything my Alpha-Lord demands of me.>
<Mmmm….anything?> Iksilon almost cooed with pleasure. To break an alpha male…Iksilon merely savored the moment before flicking his tail-blade lightly against the point of Kyran’s neck. The larger male flinched, but closed his eyes and nodded feebly, barely able to accomplish even that tiny motion. The neck laceration was nothing but a small cut, certainly not fatal. That wouldn’t do.
The petite Andalite pulled a small injector ampoule from his belt, unlatching the safety locks. <Oh Kyran, I admit it would be fun. Perhaps not so much for you. But I’m afraid I just don’t have the time. I have to start cleaning up your mess, and what a mess it is.>
Iksilon ****ed his head to the side. <Ask yourself this…how would a vecol complete the death rites, hmm? You can’t take your own head anymore…but fear not! I have your answer right here. It should do just fine. Chloroxis. Painless…like going to sleep.> Iksilon paused, giving Kyran a few moments of hope before speaking again. <But that’s just not any fun now, is it?> Iksilon smiled as he moved the ampoule towards Kyran’s neck.
<No…NO, please Alpha-Lord, please…I can still be of use to you!> Kyran struggled vainly against his body’s own paralysis.
<I added a little something extra…it won’t show up on any of the post-mortem medical scans of course, but I can tell you it’s nothing less than what you deserve. At least you can die knowing that everyone will remember you as a disgraced, imbecilic, honorless vecol.> Iksilon pressed the injector firmly against Kyran’s neck and activated it.
Kyran’s eyes widened in shock and then immense pain as he felt lines of fire race along his blood vessels and through his entire body. His full-minded screams made Iksilon shudder with ecstasy. Wordless howls of pure agony beat futilely against the thought-speech shroud. But all too soon, the seconds of agonized screams had passed, and Kyran’s body lay still. Iksilon disarmed the suspension field, allowing Kyran’s body to drop to the floor with a thud, limbs sprawling haphazardly. He dropped the injector casually next to Kyran’s body and walked out of the office, disarming the devices on his belt.
Iksilon’s bodyguards flanked him wordlessly as they boarded the lift and rode to the first floor. Nirdran and two honor-guards waited by the door. For being so reluctant to remain, Nirdran had certainly taken to his new post quickly. <Prince Lieutenant, thank you for your visit. Will you require anything before you depart?>
<Only an oath that you keep this facility as it is supposed to be.> Nirdran followed Iksilon out the door, slightly behind and to his right.
<You have it.>
<And one more thing…> Iksilon watched Nirdran with a single stalk-eye, but kept his main eyes forward down the path as they walked toward his transport. <Your old Prince just couldn’t bear the shame…I’m afraid you’ll have to have someone clean up your office.>
<Of course, sir.> Nirdran’s dark smile sparked one from Iksilon as well. Oh yes, this one had potential.
-
Keshin's expression turns grim and a bit sarcastic. He crosses Joanne's arms and rolls his eyes. "I wonder what the War-Prince expects us to do, exactly," he says. "If we can't fight for him and we can't leave the area around the Dome ship and quarters, we can't prove that we can be trusted."
Keshin bites his lip, looking at Claxter. He's less than thrilled about the apparent debt he now owes to a naive blue Warrior of all things. "....Thanks for looking out for us, Andalite. We owe you one. But..."
The incessant beeping continues. Keshin glances back at both Claxter and the rebel, trying to show some form of gratitude, and says, "....it looks like we've got to be going. Give us any suggestions you have on the Ossanlin thing, if you get the time."
Keshin darts out of the quarters and into the nearest bathroom, cursing the complete lack of privacy in an Andalite Dome Ship upon seeing the place. Still, it was better than nothing. He takes his communicator out quickly and activates it. <This had better be worth it.>
<Somehow, I really doubt that Kess. The way this is goin'......>
<I see what you mean.>
-
<You're welcome.> Claxter said. He briefly wondered if Keshin remembered his nbame, but it didn't really matter at the moment. He gladly walked away from the room where Terenia was. <I'm heading back to the bridge, Aetheas. Today's the big day for pilot training, and I shouldn't keep them waiting.>
<It was a little odd to go trotting back and forth like this, but the piloting training had slipped his mind. If he had remembered, he may have spoken to Ossanlin about the box thing at the end of the shift. This would have meant Keshin and Joanne had to wait some hourse before getting an answer, but Claxter would have seemed more professional for it. Possibly.
He made it to the bridge once more, walking to the station and looking for Enorryma. <Prince Commander, I am ready to begin pilot training.>
-
Aetheas eyes 'Keshin,' taking in the details of the host. She'd be one to watch out for. He frowns. She doesn't look dangerous. No moreso than any of the other human-Controllers.
<Ah,> he responds when Claxter says he's off to the bridge. It's funny, sometimes, to think that his own mentor is still in training. Aetheas feels he should say something, but all he manages is <Good luck, Command Warrior,> and a tail salute.
Aetheas watches Keshin with a stalk eye as he sprints off down the hallway, and steps forward, trying to get a view of who else might be in the room. These rebels they've given everything for are still a bit of a curiosity to him.
An uncertain-sounding voice emanates from Keshin's communicator. "Kess? Joanne? Is that you? It's Salem."
-
The dawning look of realization of who is speaking to them, and eventual utter bewilderment on Joanne's face, would be almost comical if anyone were actually watching. "S-Salem?" stutters Joanne's distinctive tones as she hears his voice. It was so much of a surprise that Keshin simply dropped control, out of habit from doing so in countless physical confrontations. "Th-the dude from the Bar?! What're ya---"
<How did he even get this number?! It isn't exactly listed in the local phone booth! Or Empire database, for that matter.>
<I....I got nothin' Kess. I dunno. I jus' dunno.>
<Look, look. We can work this out. Let me speak.>
Keshin clears Joanne's throat and the next, nearly clipped several statements come out in his particular, female-but-very-professional voice intonations. "Yes, yes. This is Static Shock, Salem. We hear you. What do you want and how did you get this number? We offer it only to our clients and certain members of the Empire. They are not likely to pass it to you."
-
"Keshin, I'm hurt," replied Salem mockingly. "Am I not allowed to check in?"
"I figured you'd try to impress her with your harrowing tale of how you wasted half a day cross-referencing frequency logs!" came Al's voice, sounding as though he were shouting across a room. This was followed almost immediately by Al's high pitched squeal of "Eep!" and a loud crashing noise.
Salem sighed, "It wasn't easy. Look, I've gotten myself into a bit of a mess. I've got a request for you. Should be pretty easy, I think, for someone in your line of work, and I'll pay more than it's worth. Do you remember that stuck-up War Prince named Ossanlin?"
-
Keshin stared into space, trying to calculate exactly how this could have happened and what the Kandrona had against him personally. "It just so happens that we're sitting onboard that Andalite's ship, Salem," mutters Keshin in an exasperated tone. "We had a little...run-in with the Empire and for reasons we cannot fathom, the stuck-up War-Prince and his crew brought us onboard. What I'm saying is...."
Keshin sighed. "...that we stand absolutely no chance of killing him or anyone else from here, and we're down to three syringes of medicine. Whatever you're paying had better be something pretty special. Now normally..." Keshin's voice seemed to soften a bit. "..normally we'd do it for you anyway, because we don't like being in debt to someone. But normally we aren't surrounded by his men, sicker than usual."
-
<Prince Commander, I am ready to begin pilot training.>
Norry's stalk eyes spun about to look at Claxter.
<Excellent; it is about time we have more of our crew capable of taking helm when necessary. Please come to the helm station here,> she gestured to her left, <and place a hand on the interface. For this first lesson, let us get you acquainted with the basic controls of ship's movement and engine functions, using the on-board demonstrator. I will send different sets of telemetry and mapping information from my own console to yours, and you can respond to each of them in stages as you learn the commands and maneuvers available to you from helm.>
She sent the first pre-written tutorial to his console and sent a command to her own: <TO overriding helm, demonstration mode initiate at helm console. Divert primary helm control to TO console.>
The console fed back with a neutral and polite thought-speech voice, <Initiate manual or maintain automatic course plotting?>
<Automatic. Maintain current trajectory and alert to any variations in spatial geometry and engine output.>
<TO control of helm confirmed. Automatic plotting confirmed. Alert settings confirmed.> The console had a monotonous and repetitive way of addressing its users, but there was something oddly comforting about the programmed thoroughness and redundancy of the interface.
Norry turned to face Claxter. <In the first data set, you will no doubt have already found that your console displays a large amount of information. Of what is there, the most important are the navigation and engine displays. You can control the display through both touch and thought-speech, and you can switch off touch control with a thought-speech command. Only a higher ranking officer can override a command which you give to your console.> She switched briefly to private thought-speech.
<<Overriding commands can only be given in thought-speech, by the current programming. This means that if you secure your station to receive no touch inputs, only Andalites on the ship, or beings in morph, can use the helm station. We will not make a point of advertising this information to our... passengers... at this time.>>
Norry selected some options on her screen which would highlight the various information and commands displayed on Claxter's console, giving a walkthrough of the helm's available programs, automatic settings, and finally arriving at the grass and potatoes of this exercise- the controls which controlled the ships movement through space and Z-Space, and manipulated the fuel mixture and engine outputs.
<You have the very basics of it now; is there anything you would like me to repeat, elaborate, or add to this, or any questions you have?>
Operating a large ship involved paying attention to more details than the computer on a Tail-Fighter would even concern itself with. Life support and weapons systems technically could both be accessed from helm, if no overriding command belayed transfer of control from those stations. Norry had mentioned these things in passing, and if Claxter has the presence of mind to ask for more information about that, I will tell him all he wishes to know. It would not be professional, however, for me to volunteer that information in public thought-speech without the trainee deliberately requesting it. Norry was more than a little eager to see how Claxter handled controls of the other bridge stations, but the specific task she had been given was to teach him to pilot the ship, not to fight with it or handle its other non-navigational processes. It was one of those odd rare cases where a junior officer has more control of what happens next than the senior officer, due to the constraints of social and military policies. In a fleet dome ship, those policies were put into place to keep any single crew member from having too much access, and thereby compromising ship security and integrity... but in this understaffed vessel, every possible redundancy of skills in Andalite hands was necessary and desirable.
-
Salem barked out a short laugh. "Seriously? You're on the Tyrennian? Keshin, this is too perfect!"
"Oh..." Salem paused when Keshin spoke of how impossible killing Ossanlin would be. "Actually, I'm not asking you to assassinate anyone. I kinda like that stuck-up War Prince. Heck, you might even be able to help me out just by talking to him and getting what I need, if he trusts you enough to bring you aboard his ship."
"See, I need information on the Mark III dome ships, one way or another. I was going to talk to Ossanlin, but he left the Bar, and I didn't know where to find him. Sorry to call you, but I'm sort of short on people in this galaxy who could do it and who don't want me dead. If you can't pull this off, I'll have to figure something else out."
He continued, giving details of his mission before Keshin could reject it. "First priority would be an internal physical layout. Map of corridors, rooms, storage, hangars, maintenance hatches, the works. Beyond that, I'd pay extra for any additional information you can get me. Specs, schematics, pictures..." he paused, "...backdoor access codes. Security vulnerabilities."
Salem paused and drew a breath, "Whatever happened to your deal with Corliss? Did the idiot stop getting you medicine?"
-
Claxter placed a hand on the interface as he was told, and took in all the information available. It certainly was a lot, which wasn't unexpected. He suppressed his initial excitement in an attempt to look professional. This was not a toy, and he had to make sure to get it right. He trained his stalk eyes to navigational and engine displays, getting a feel for where they were. He wouldn't be constantly monitoring them with stalk eyes, though, since he was much more accustomed to them roaming. His main eyes surveyed the controls. Periodically he said Yes ma'am to Enorryma's instructions to show he was listening.
<Perhaps you could tell me about things you encounter most frequently when piloting the ship? Also I suppose an attack might be inevitable. Perhaps elaborating on that before an actual attack would be better than during.> He knew she was a fighter, more than anything else, and she likely had considerable advice to give for fighting with a Dome Ship. He didn't adore fighting himself, but he did enjoy hearing tales of glory.
-
Enorryma allowed herself an Andalite eye-smile while her face was turned away. Clever lad. She turned back toward him and sent the next set of scenarios for him to pilot through, a mild challenge of divided attention while they spoke. This particular set of scenarios would include ambiguous and specific hostile forces and would allow him to learn to control the shredder cannon and other weapons arrays from helm.
<Piloting the ship is typically a role where we receive orders instead of issuing them or relaying them, and frequently this will take off the pilot's shoulders the responsibility of determining the next action, allowing your whole focus to be committed to the task itself. Sometimes, however, the captain will need to invest more of his command and attention on what the fighter fleet are doing, or on other situations pertaining to the operation and defense of the ship. In these situations, the helm officer will generally be the first person the captain trusts to carry out his duties semi-autonomously, and while you might not be giving direct verbal orders to navigations and weapons, they will queue off you, and depend on you to orient the ship so that sensor, shielding, and weapons arrays are pointed in the right directions. The kind of easy camaraderie and comfortable rhythm that passes between helm, navigations, and weapons can only truly be acquired from working with those officers in the middle of action, but once it is acquired, it can last throughout your career, and on the bridge it is roughly equivalent to what fighters experience with their wingmen, and what warriors experience with the people by their sides. When you do not spend all your time on the bridge, it can be easy to take the "safety" of the ship for granted, but not being on the front lines the way fighter pilots are, does not mean that the mothership itself is a purely safe place to be during hostile engagement. I expect that at some point, and likely more than once while working the helm, you will realize just how closely we bring the ship to its total annihilation, and you will develop utmost appreciation for the Andalites on either side of you... even beyond the respect afforded according to rank.>
She saw the scenario going fairly nicely, so she adjusted it to increase the number of hostiles, one or two more arriving in the demonstration every thirty seconds. This would give him a more acute sense of the slight time delay between reviving damaged shields and charging shredder cannon blasts, and would force him to periodically make a decision of one or the other- shields or offense, but not both at the same time.
<The most common major problem you are likely to encounter is engine damage or diminished output of some other form, forcing you to make difficult but rapid decisions about where to invest limited power. You have several options for redirecting power away from other systems on the ship: the environment in the dome, for instance, can survive quite well with the artificial lights and water currents disabled temporarily, and in select areas of the ship, it is also safe to temporarily disable the local artificial gravity. You can also shunt power away from life support, using the system's waste heat to restart failed engine reactions, or leeching power directly. Remember above all that the life support systems are flexible but completely vital; you can only adjust the settings so far before we freeze or asphyxiate, and both of those things can occur so fast that you do not realize they are happening until it is nearly too late. If you ever find yourself less than totally lucid and alert at the helm, double check the life support to be sure it is receiving adequate power. Sudden drowsiness or slow reaction times can be a sign of contaminated or thinning atmosphere- a failure in the filtration and ventilation, which is the most energy-intensive of the life support functions. Radiation poisoning is also a possibility, if the anti-rad layer of our shields is taken down for backup power, but there is more of a tolerance for error in this case: the hull itself is incredibly resistant, and only stellar clusters and nurseries, primitive nuclear weaponry, and certain types of Z-Space anomaly emit enough radiation to cause significant immediate health risk. That and failure on engine containment, that is, but if engine containment fails, there will not be enough of the ship left, for radiation to even be one of our concerns.> This last part was virtually common knowledge, used here for a bit of collegial humour, and she quirked her stalk eyes to indicate the joke, knowing that he probably wouldn't see it as focused as he was on his task.
<Now for the matter of combat- I am going to send you a demonstration which will involve you taking full control simultaneously of helm, weapons, and shields. You will notice that the arrangement of the shield and shredder cannon are such that the ship has "good sides" and "bad sides" to be positioned relative to the enemy. This is part of why we maintain a tail-fighter fleet: to cover our "bad sides" and to receive cover from our much heavier weaponry and much stronger shields. Dogfights are not exactly rare, as more and more of our potential enemies will have access to the same generation of tail-fighters we have, so keeping the jockeys close to the mothership means a better chance for their survival and safe return and repair, at the cost of tending to attract enemy pilots closer to the mothership. Even here we have an advantage, as this class of vessel has better maneuverability than most of its size, and it can drop into Z-Space faster and more precisely than larger vessels in the same generation. Per-weapon, our offenses are not the strongest nor the widest in spread, but we do have more of each type of weapon, aimable in more directions, with less hazard of firing across our own hull. Whether or not you have full control over weapons and shields during a battle, you will always need to consider your position, the position of our fleet, and the enemy and enemy fleet positions. Strive to keep our "good side" pointed toward the largest enemy, and to keep our "bad side" oriented in such a way that our tail-fighters can come between us and enemy jockeys. When you do have full controls, take special care not to fire through a cloud of our own people.> She frowned at this last thought.
<Friendly fire is never a good thing, but this is an especial concern for us, this far from home, this lacking in friends and support. If we lose pilots, we do not have enough trained up to replace them quickly. If our fighters sustain too much damage to stay on the move, we do not have the resources to rebuild them from scratch or to create new ones. Right now, we have a surplus of ships to fighters, which is a good problem to have, because the extras can be used on training exercises... but we cannot depend on our most reckless crew members to be cautious the way we are, or to keep themselves inside the shields we project. I know, because I have been the reckless idiot who brought her tail-fighter back to the mothership with a cracked ****pit and missing half its stabilizer fins.> She chuckled and winced at the memory.
<Claxter, at the helm, often unbeknownst to those jockeys, you must be the shepherding mother to them. They are their own unique type of geniuses, and never doubt it, but in so many other ways they are simply too stupid to survive without mothership support. I never appreciated or respected this myself until my first tour on a dome ship's helm, and it was eyes-opening. Most of the time, your job at helm will be incredibly simple and straightforward, but during those conflicts, you are going to have the power to save all our lives several times over, and much of that will be without receiving orders, but only acting on the intersection between training and instinct.>
-
Claxter went through the scenario a little awkwardly at first, but as he became accustomed to the controls, he did better. When Enorryma raised the difficulty, he managed to step up to the task. It was certainly better than the unexpected difficulty spike that Aetheas went through in his training. Hearing that the helm wasn't totally safe made him a little nearvous. Of course he knew that no place was completely safe on the battlefield, but he wasn't keen on hearing that he may repeatedly be faced with something that could annihilate the ship. As he thought about it, it made sense that after the engines went down, the enemy craft would likely turn all attentions on blasting the helm, regardless of the fact that forward shields were often stronger than rear ones.
<<I suppose you would handle weapons? Who usually handles navigation?>> He wondered if hhe should already know who was who. Sure he knew pretty much everyone's names, but didn't always memorize exactly what they did. Not that it didn't change from time to time because of under staffing.
When the decision came between more firepower or more shielding, Claxter usually went with more shielding, despite that more power to shields wouldn't really make the enemy go away. He just wasn't the aggressive type, or at least didn't see himself as such.
<Yes, I'm sure.> He said when she mentioned engine containment failure.
When full control was given to him, his reactions times slowed a bit. Not surprising because it was his first time, and he was sure he'd get better at it. He worked to face the larger of the simulated enemy and engage it. With more weapons he could spread his fire more, or barrage one point. With better maneuverability he could better avoid the main cannon. Even if he was hit, a glancing blow would be better than taking it full on. He also watched his simulated allies, and worked with them.
He wondered what they would do in the long run about the need for a docking facility and supplies. He didn't say anything about it, since he was sure it was on everyone's minds.
<I suppose eventually I will be landing, taking off, and synching the ship with a planet's orbit. Perhaps we could go over that a bit?>
-
Ossanlin takes another break from ship reports to listen to Enorryma's lesson. He smiles at a couple of her reminiscences...at least the ones he'd heard about. He tunes into the simulation exercise with his own console, watching as Claxter works to understand and effectively use the Tyrennian's controls, and nods at Enorryma's sage advice about training more Andalites to fulfill duties such as bridge positions.
He doesn't answer any of Claxter's questions, allowing Enorryma to teach as she sees fit. Goodness knows there are few more-skilled at the helm than Norry.
-
<<We have two or three particularly capable navigators on board, if the reputations connected to the names on the crew roster are truly substantiated. I have not worked with any of them as directly as I have worked with the Captain, and at the moment I believe they are still settling between themselves which of them will take which shift of the day-cycle on the bridge. I am forwarding their dossiers to your console, for you to review between scenarios; I cannot say yet which of them you will interact with the most.>> She sent the files to his screen, then continued to supervise his very adequate progress.
She eye-smiled again when he brought up orbital maneuvers. She initiated a sequence of scenarios over a small rocky planet with no satellites or stations in its orbit. She would gradually adjust the scenarios, first adding moons to the planet, then orbital comm satellites, then increasing the planet's size and gravity to nearly that of a gas giant, then adding equatorial rings to the planet. The last scenarios would involve docking with a space station. All of these required much less in the way of reaction time, and much more in the way of quick mental and computed maths, as well as consideration to debris hazards and tidal forces. Debris wasn't exactly a threat to the Tyrennian... just the opposite, really: anything bounced off its shields too fast would be damaged, including planetary comm and military satellites, and rocky debris that took too steep an angle of deflection might end up falling into atmosphere and damaging the planet itself. Attention had to be paid not just to the planet's and moons' gravity wells, but to how the ship's own gravity drew other objects toward it.
The very last set of maneuvers would involve atmospheric flight- true landings and take-offs involving a planet's surface. Motherships typically wouldn't go anywhere near an atmosphere, when virtually all maintenance can be done by docking with a station, and virtually all crew exchanges can be done using shuttlecraft... but there was still the possibility that this oh-so-rare emergency event could occur, and since there was no hurry to be elsewhere or doing other things, Norry figured she would have Claxter prepared as much as possible for even this bizarre contingency.
-
"He had no choice," states Keshin, biting his lip. He's not certain that he should be telling Salem what happened with the Rebellion, so he will only give the mysterious traveler the bare minimum detail. "The Rebellion has run into a spot of trouble and no longer has the resources to provide me with what I need. Corliss himself is dead, and I doubt Myitt One-Nine-Five will uphold the deal. As for your....suggestion. .."
<...what do you think, Joanne?>
<I think we can do it, over time. What harm could givin' him this **** be? He's jus' some guy.>
<We don't actually know who Salem is.>
<You got me there. Hm. He can' be with Sector Seven if he wants this ****, so he's no trouble on us really.>
"...War-Prince Ossanlin does not trust us at all," says Keshin carefully. "We might be able to get you the information you want, but it won't be easy and it will take some time. Whatever...trouble. ..you're in, we do not want it brought to the Tyrennian. Does this have something to do with your Andalite Electorate issue?"
-
Claxter kept his eyes on the sensors as he ran through the orbital simulation, making sure his path stayed steady, and keeping an eye on gravity well that could pull him away from the proper trajectory. The shields deflected debris, but as the rings were added, he would have to try to synch his speed with them. Blasting them wouldn't really help, as it would just add to the smaller debris and cause a dust fog. Math wasn't his favorite subject, but he found it necessary to run calculations to figure out what he should do. I believed he was doing well, but it did require a lot of concentration. He managed to dock and lift off from the docking bay without messing anything up, though he might have come in a little too fast.
As he ran through the landing and takeoff simulation, the thought came to him that he'd never seen a mothership actually do that. He supposed he was still in the mindset that this was like a smaller craft, and not designed to simply dock with an orbital docking bay, or have maintenance crews come to it. at least she didn't laugh at him for it.
Something in the back of his mind caused him some concern. Keshin had been called on a private communicator, but by who? He wondered if he should speak up about it, or perhaps simply talk to him about it later.
-
Illim heaves a sigh as Keshin leaves his quarters, and the Andalites who had come by to find him go with him. Turning his brown eyes on Terenia, he gives a small smile. "Well... at least it's good to know you can still get fired up, my friend," he murmurs as he watches her. "Forget them, alright? We'll keep an eye out, and we certainly won't let them into the rebellion's inner circle."
-
Enorryma watched as the last simulation was completed, and quite respectably, by Claxter.
<Good work today. If you have no other questions, you may feel free to return to whatever other tasks are on your rotation for the day, or I can turn over actual helm control to your console.>
Privately she elaborated,
<<In our current trajectory, there should not be anything happening more challenging than what you have just done, and we do not currently require any course corrections, so I expect it would be a boring shift for you. If you have other things you want to do right now, they will be a better use of your time than standing at the console just to watch the ship steer itself on a programmed course. I can always call you back to the bridge if anything comes up which could add to your training.>>
-
<Thank you, Prince Enorryma. If I may say so, one of the rebels is interested in gaining Prince Ossanlin's trust, but is unsure of how to do that at this time.> He decided not to go into the long explanation of Joanne's sickness, and possible nothlitism. <Do you have any ideas about gaining some trust in a short amount of time?> He thought maybe of just asking Ossanlin, but his Prince hadn't offered anything when they last spoke.
-
<In my experience, trust only develops slowly, unless circumstances of necessity and not convenience force the issue. When somebody saves another's life several times in a short span of time, the one who is saved grows accustomed to the certainty that the one saving intends for him to survive. If one is deliberately seeking to win trust, he ought to put himself in position to be useful and needed, so that the Captain will have opportunities to see him taking a supportive and trustworthy role.>
-
<Thank you, Ma'am.> Claxter said, and made his way out. Running those simulations was definitely the highlight of his day, and he looked forward to some real flying later. Going back and forth was somewhat tedious, so instead of heading directly to the dome, he decided to find Varekil first. Perhaps he was in the lab. He walked down the hall to where he thought a neurosurgeon might be spending his time.
<Varekil? Are you around here? I'd like to speak with you, if you aren't busy right now.>
-
Aetheas steps forward, cautiously and self-consciously, until he's in full view of the door, trying to get a better look inside. There are humans inside, and he thinks he recognizes some of them, from his reading. That one might be Terenia, and the one speaking... Illim, he thinks.
Perhaps it's the morning's successes, or the endorphins coursing through his system from the exercise earlier, but he finds himself feeling bolder than usual. After only a brief hesitation, he says, tentatively, <Hello.>
Salem is silent for a moment. When he speaks, he seems shaken. "The Rebellion's in trouble? Corliss is dead? I can't... he was an ass, but I never..." He pauses, and again draws a breath.
When he speaks again, he sounds more composed. "Yeah, this might have a little something to do with my... 'Electorate issue,' as you've so eloquently put it. This isn't terribly pressing, so take your time. No unnecessary risks for this job, Kess. I don't think I'm in any position to bail your ass out of trouble this time." He laughs-- even the thought of breaking Keshin out of the brig of a dome ship is absurd on multiple levels, and he knows he won't stand a chance if it comes to that.
-
There's no answer to Claxter's thought-speech call as the field medic, Varekil, had long since returned to the privacy of his quarters to attempt to recuperate from the night's trials and grab what sleep he might be able to after discovering the loss of the human infant that had been, for all intents and purposes, under his express care, even though he'd not been present during the child's passing.
-
Terenia's scowl is still firmly in place, even after Keshin and Claxter's departure. The half-eaten protein bar is held in one hand, slowly being crushed by her fingers.
"Having them in any circle bothers me," she says to Illim. "Having them alive bothers me."
Her eyes snap to Aetheas, and they narrow slightly. "Please don't tell me you're that ****'s little sidekick," she says, gesturing in the direction Claxter went. "One is more than enough on this dapsen ship." Frustrated, she sits back on the 'bed', frowning.
<It is hardly irresponsible to return the knowledge that I was deprived of,> Efaen says primly. <I was a warrior once, a true warrior, not just in name. Surely piloting was a part of my training, and I deserve to regain those skills. If we should run into trouble, I would like to be as useful as possible.>
She favors him with a small smile of her stalk eyes. She is beginning to become comfortable with this role, especially as she realizes how useful Eleric may be to her.
-
<Indeed. I can't imagine what it must've been like, waking up alone knowing nothing of who or where you are. They took something from you more precious than life itself. I wouldn't want anyone to go through that...not even an Imperial.> Eleric shakes his head and risks another gentle touch on Efaen's shoulder. Not too forward, merely an extension of physical contact to convey empathy, but he leaves his hand there as he continues on. <But we can remedy at least some of that. Who knows, maybe piloting will bring back more of your memories...if not, at least it will make you some new ones.> Eleric smiles with his main eyes, once again withdrawing his hand.
<But I rather think that Claxter is more worried about...personal... responsibility. I believe he's worried that I might have the gall to attempt to achieve a more intimate standing in your eyes...perhaps that is his goal, I couldn't say for sure. If so, perhaps he is impressing his motives upon my actions.> Eleric shrugs a bit before continuing. <I want to help you regain some of that which was robbed so cruelly from you. Piloting is the subject in which I would be the most-useful as a teacher.> Eleric grins a bit more ****ily, partially marring his facade of self-professed humility as the simulated fighter approaches a gas giant planet with several moons.
-
Aetheas's eyes go wide when Terenia addresses him. That had not been the type of introduction he'd expected. <****'s sidekick?> he inquires. Her use of language is not entirely familiar. <Claxter is my teacher, but he is not the only teacher I have aboard the Tyrennian.> He sounds tentative, as though he's worried his words might further offend her.
-
Keshin laughs a bit at that comment. Salem was a tricky customer, but even he couldn't get Keshin out of Ossanlin's ship. "I don't expect you to this time," he said with a hint of mirth to his voice. "Those were some strange times. I hope your latest crazy idea doesn't get you killed, given your impressive track record so far."
Keshin's voice then takes a turn for the solemn. "And...yeah. Ossanlin isn't directly responsible, but the Rebellion has it bad. It's very possible that some Andalite organization called Sector Seven, or something, might be after them now. I'm technically not supposed to tell anyone that, but that's all I'll say. I think we're finally in **** deeper than we can handle. How much would you be willing to put on offer for this job?"
-
Efaen frowns a little, her main eyes remaining firmly on the holographic viewscreen, even as she listens to Eleric. <Claxter and I...evidently we had some sort of bond, before I lost my memories,> she confesses. A single stalk watches him as he touches her shoulder. <I do not know the nature of it, and I do not remember him from before. I know only that he seems attached to me in a way I find...disconcertin g. He seems caring enough, but he has memories of me that I do not, and that makes me wary.>
Terenia actually laughs at that. It's a sharp, incredulous sound, and the fact that she can make it at all seems to surprise her. "They actually let him teach?" she asks. "As in, tell other people what to do?" She rolls her eyes to Illim. "Jesus Christ, we are so ****ed. If Claxter is one of the people who has authority here, we'll be dead within a week."
Turning her attention back to Aetheas, she takes the Andalite in a little more carefully, noting, among other things, his twisted tail. "Listen, do yourself a favor and don't listen to anything he says. Especially about me or that **** Efaen." Swallowing, she decides to finish her tirade up with a half-hearted attempt at being civil to the creature. "I'm Terenia. This is Illim, and his host Daniel."
-
Eleric nods slowly in understanding. <I see. Yes, I do remember him reminiscing fondly of you once. I can understand why. I heard stories about some sort of galactic watering hole from a few of the others on-board, including the Captain. I'm afraid I can't say exactly what Claxter's feelings were or are toward you. He is somewhat introverted, after all. He usually means well, but I can see how that might be disconcerting to you.>
<As for me, I remember you from when you were aboard before. I never actually spoke to you except in passing, I'm afraid you spent nearly all of your time in quarters. Of course you should remember that as well as it happened after Ossanlin retrieved you from the rebellion. I don't expect you to remember me, of course, but I'm sure you remember that period of time being transported back to the Homeworld.> He pauses a moment as they approach the gravity well of the simulated gas giant. <I'm sorry for the way some of my species-mates treated you there. Of course you lost precious knowledge, but that was through no fault of your own. You should not have been held responsible for the treachery that the Rebellion imparted on you. Everyone should've merely been happy that we got you back alive.>
-
"Sector Seven?" repeats Salem. "Hmm..." After a moment, he continues in a different vein, giving her a sum for this job, in Andalite currency, that would probably be more appropriate for a fairly high-level assassination. "And I'll pay extra for any additional information," he says again.
A wordless, surprised-sounding yell from Al can be heard in the background, and Salem curses quietly before speaking to Keshin again. "Kess, I've got to go. You don't need to decide on this job now. Do it if you can, but don't get yourself killed trying. If I'm not reachable at this frequency... probably just leave word at that crap-hole bar."
Al shouts a second time, and Salem yells, "I'm coming! You are so impatient!" To Keshin, he says, "Take care of yourselves out there. Hopefully I'll see you soon." With that, the transmission ends.
<I know who you are,> Aetheas responds when Terenia introduces herself and Illim. His tone is matter-of-fact, if slightly pretetious. <I am aristh Aetheas-Emelen-Sirinial.>
<Claxter's teachings have been... adequate,> he supplies. That's high praise, coming from him. He frowns, trying to work out the odds of their being dead within a week. <I am not sure how much bearing Claxter's position can have on our survival.> He's not sure how much stock to put in what she's saying, so he proceeds cautiously, afraid of making a cultural misstep. How embarrassing would that be? He eyes her questioningly, <Would you rather, then, that I listen to the things someone else says regarding yourself and that...> he tries out the unfamiliar word, <**** Efaen?>
-
Claxter makes it back to the dome to find Keshin, though he finds her in the biowaste room. He waits off to the side for her to be done before speaking. <Hello again Keshin. I hope this isn't too personal, but may I ask who was sending you a message personally? I didn't think about it initially, but I became worried that it may be someone from outside the ship. If it was, you should probably tell me.>
-
Salem's news was less than thrilling, even despite the huge amount of money he was willing to pay for it. For one thing, why was the trader wiling to compensate them that much for a few Andalite ship plans? They can't be terribly hard to get on the black market, even considering how secretive the Electorate was. Salem was in trouble, but not in a hurry? Worrying situation, that.
<Look, if we get the time we'll do it for 'im. But not now. You've seen how little we're trusted, Kess.>
<...I can scarcely believe you're advocating for the intelligent move.>
<It happens.>
Keshin leaves the bathroom and notices....that same Andalite from before...waiting for him. When he explained why he was here, Keshin stifled a groan. He wondered if this little fellow had any idea how annoying his habit of getting into other people's business was. "It was someone from outside the ship, but I'm in no position to do the job he offered right now."
-
<We're trying to keep an extremely low profile. In fact every Andalite on this ship is supposed to be dead, and this ship isn't supposed to exist anymore. I would be cautious about taking any calls at all, since your clientele is unfriendly towards us, assuming they knew we are alive and have gone rogue. You should probably get rid of the communicator altogether. I'll try to trust you with it instead of running to prince Ossanlin, though. Can we have an agreement there?>
-
Efaen nods. <Yes, I was...not particularly thrilled with my time on this ship. Ossanlin forced me to leave the rebellion, against my will. I did not want to leave, and I did not want to return to the Homeworld. Because of him I have lost one of my closest friends. Because of him I have lost the trust of Andalites and Yeerks alike.> She lets out a slow exhale through her nose slits, then forces a smile. <I understand that he was acting within his sense of obligation, but I wish he had not. I would have been happy to remain with the rebellion, regardless of the role they played in my memory wipe.>
Terenia's eyebrows raise and a smirk crosses her face. "I think I like you, aristh," she says, automatically falling into the habit of referring to someone of such a low rank by his rank alone. Her time with the Andalite military has left a few footprints. "How about you don't listen to what anyone says about us, except us? I can speak for myself, you know."
-
<That is quickly becoming apparent,> Aetheas says, frowning a little at Terenia's use of his rank instead of his name. To be fair, though, he didn't know much about her, and she had said she liked him. Maybe he was better at making friends than he'd realized. He may not have even needed Claxter's charitable company in order to follow the Command Warrior's orders today. Best not make a misstep now.
<Very well,> he says, nodding a stalk eye, <I will consider you the authority regarding yourself.> He pauses, not sure how to word his question, <It is understandable that you would want to be in charge of your own reputation. Is this request... common human practice?> He hasn't seen anything about that in his reading, but he hardly considers the research he's done to be completely comprehensive.
-
"This client isn't from from the Empire, and I don't normally do jobs for...for Andalites. Given that we met him at the Bar, I don't even know when he is from let alone where. Doing a job for him probably wouldn't threaten the Tyrennian, but I don't have the opportunity at the moment." Keshin was to some extent lying through his teeth here, given what Salem actually wanted. The other half was at the least true.
"As for the communicator, I can promise the War-Prince that I won't do anything that would either alert someone to this ship's continued existence or compromise our position. You can hold me to that as it would be spitting on our honor otherwise. But if your War-Prince doesn't offer me either trust or a specific...incentiv e we discussed, I have no reason at all to dispose of it entirely."
-
<Alright. I'll believe you.> Claxter said. He had an idea of who it might be, but wasn't really familiar with the guy. he didn't remember talking to him much. <When the two of you have more time, I'm sure you and Prince Ossanlin will find the means to build some trust.>
<I don't really know if you would know anything about this, but do you know of any exercises Humans use to build arm strength? I'm sure this probably sounds odd, but I thought I may as well ask. I've been considering some training...>
-
Eleric raises his eyebrows, but continues to watch on as Efaen pilots the simulated fighter. <I can see why that might happen. Were one to lose all of his or her memories, the rational mind would grasp onto anything it could to try and build an equilibrium. Of course, the Rebels could have told or showed you anything at all, and you'd have believed it.>
Eleric begins to lean his head slightly to the right as the fighter continues to approach the gas giant head-on. Too much longer, and the gravity well would suck the fighter it, or rip it apart depending upon Efaen's actions. <The Captain tends to be driven toward his ideals...perhaps too much so. But I do understand his reasoning behind bringing you back...although I suppose it all worked out the same in the end. The Andalite attack on the rebel base would've happened much sooner if he hadn't brought you back. Apparently the rebels were going to execute you, so it surprises me that you'd say you wanted to stay with them. Either way, the Homeworld would've decimated the base rather than leave a morph-capable host in possession of any Yeerk group, including the Rebellion.> Eleric shrugs. <I'm not saying I wholly agree with them, but it does make a sort of ruthless sense.>
<I do not agree with the way you were treated on the Homeworld after your return, that much is certain. I can understand your frustrations with the Electorate, but not all Andalites are the same. This ship is full of Andalites who would never treat you as a vecol. I...hope I'm helping to demonstrate that to you.>
-
Joanne grins slightly at this. She suspected the Andalite wanted to imitate Prince Ossanlin, his commander. Keshin left this bit of information to her, understandably--- he had never been the warrior of the two. "Well, it's a lil' tricky ta' tell what you guys can use and whatcha can', given the big deer butt you got. But you should prolly use weights, like things you can lift. See...."
Joanne makes a motion with her arm up and down, as if holding something. "....if you leave 'em on a table or somethin', you ought to be able to pick 'em up from there. Once you got both of 'em, you move your arms down holdin' 'em as far as they go. And then back up, just like..." Joanne does the motion herself, with invisible weights. "...this. Holdin' your arms all the way out and then pressin' them in front of your chest also works. Like this."
Joanne demonstrates this motion as well and looks satisfied. "Least we can do. You've been helpin' us, after all."
-
<Thank you. I feel it can be useful to try some unconventional ways of defending myself, as long as they work. Using melee weapons with the arms seems to work for Prince Ossanlin. Not that I'm trying to become exactly like him, but if something is useful it should be considered.>
He excused himself, and headed towards his room. He didn't have anything else pressing to do, so he felt like trying this now. He passed the room where he saw Aetheas talking to Terenia. That was about the last person he should be talking to, but claxter made no comment. Her abrasiveness would likely drive him off soon enough.
Inside his room, he got out his scrap rods. In previous sessions, he just used the rods while swinging like he thought Ossanlin would do, but now he tried just repetitive lifting and lowering. Up and down, and side to side. It felt less clumsy and embarrassing this way.
-
~Story Narration~
The day passed, remarkably, without anyone losing a head. Ossanlin and Enorryma were both consumed with the monitoring and repair of ship systems ensuing the double jump. Eleric had finished his lesson with Efaen, and had felt quite good as he trotted back to the docking bays to help with the remodding of the Tail Fighter coils that had been disturbed by the double-jump. Aside from the strangeness of having humans aboard the ship, most of the crew went on about their daily duties without much interruption. Of course everyone was overly busy due to the extreme understaffing of the ship, but the work proceeded smoothly.
As such, Ossanlin was somewhat bemused as Enorryma announced that they’d nearly arrived at the coordinates Ossanlin had specified. As Myitt had mentioned, it had seemed a bad idea to have a fully-armed Mark-III Dome Ship drop in on top of a bunch of rebels that had just witnessed their base being destroyed and friends and compatriots murdered by a fleet of Andalite ships. These coordinates should be outside of the rebellion’s sensors warning range.
-
Ossanlin nods as Enorryma informs him of the impending arrival. <Good, drop from Z-Space. Kerrin, give me a whole-ship feed.>
The Command-Warrior nods and dials up the ship comms.
<Attention Dome Ship Tyrennian, this is Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel. We will be dropping from Z-Space momentarily at the pre-determined coordinates for dispatch of an emissary to the first group of surviving rebellion members. I need everyone at-station and ready to respond to any situation.> He pauses before continuing. <Command-Warrior Claxter, Command-Warrior Serid, Myitt One-Nine-Five, and Keslin Five-Seven-Four, please rendezvous with me in the irregular Docking Hangar in fifteen standard minutes. Warrior Eleric, prepare Lightning-Strike for a patrol deployment. Thank-you.>
He signals Kerrin to close the channel and nods to Enorryma. <You have the command, Prince-Commander. Don’t take aggressive actions unless absolutely necessary.> He turns to leave the bridge before pausing and looking back with his stalk-eyes. <Although I would appreciate it if you kept an eye or two on my back for me.> He smiles before trotting off toward the hangars.
-
Eleric, taking a moment to relax and watch the sunsets in the Dome, raises his eyebrows at the ship-wide announcement. He takes out his private communicator and quick-dials his squad-mates. <Lightning-Strike, prepare for deployment, one quarter.> He makes his way quickly down to the hangars and to his quick-launch bay, giving his Tail Fighter a good going-over in preparation for deployment. Nothing really ever felt so natural to him as his interactions with his fighter. It was a relationship in many ways...you take care of her, she takes care of you. There's an inherent trust between Andalite and machine that Eleric has always found comforting, though a Tail-Fighter couldn't offer the same kind of company that a female could. And that starts his mind on Efaen again. She had so much potential, and her morphing was so beautiful...and that wasn't to mention her own Andalite form. She was actually quite comely, if only she could get over that bothersome self-loathing...
-
After claxter finished his arm exercises, he had gone back to the simulator room and booted up a bridge simulation. He wanted to see the bridge controls again, and continue familiarizing himself with them. He didn't do much of significance after that. Took a walk, checked his Tail Fighter, organize his space a bit. Eventually he heard the summons, and after taking a feed and drink, making sure his shredder was functioning properly, he headed to the irregular docking hangar. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use it, but he figured if he and Serid were going down, it was as Ossanlin's bodyguards.
-
Aetheas heard the announcement and groaned, looking up from his reading regarding the Rebellion. Of course they were going to rub it in his face that they were going on another mission without him. Being an aristh would be frustrating enough, but his allergy to the morphing technology all but insured that he'd be stuck on the ship until he'd been promoted a couple of times.
He closed the file he'd had open and left his tiny quarters. His eyes were beginning to hurt anyway. With a look around, he sighed and set off towards the hangar. He'd at least like to see the team off.
-
Claxter saw Aetheas on his way to the hanger. <Hello Aetheas. Did you have a good time with the rebels? You think socializing more was a good idea?> He said as he kept walking. He was curious about what Illim and Terenia may have said to him, but was more concerned that he may not have enjoyed it and decided not to do it anymore.
-
Keshin awoke to Ossanlin's announcement mid-speech blearily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. Andalite quarters were rather obviously not designed for bipeds. <We sleep inside the Dome on the grass next time. Your dreams were very strange.>
<Agreed, Kess. Lemme get a look around first.>
Keshin rescinded control and allowed Joanne to orient herself. It was weird, the way they did things. She suspected even most of the rebels didn't switch the controlling mind regularly, but for them it made sense. Since Joanne did most of the fighting, they had to be able to change who was using the body without any delay and so they had to keep in practice. According to Keshin, long periods of time without control led to considerable disorientation normally when the host regained it.
Joanne tried to remember what Ossanlin had said, wandering out of the quarters. Did the announcement mean them? It didn't sound like it ---he had mentioned Myitt by name, but he'd confined them to the Dome and the crew quarters. Joanne rubbed her eyes, glancing down the hall for signs of the others. She'd have to ask one of the rebels.
-
<Hello, Claxter,> Aetheas says, acknowledging the Command Warrior with a nod of the stalk eye. He falls into step beside him. <Socializing with the rebels was...> he pauses, searching for a word, <...interesting. They are not quite what I expected. Are all aliens so...> He pauses again, <...forward?>
-
<I'm afraid I don't have a lot of experience talking to different groups, but aliens can be quite different from us culturally. I'm glad they were at least somewhat forward. What did you talk about?>
-
Norry listens to the summons list. She feels a twinge in her upper chest, a sharp stab, and winces.
<You have the command, Prince-Commander. Don’t take aggressive actions unless absolutely necessary.>
Enorryma nods confirmation, swiveling her stalk eyes toward Ossanlin to watch his exit. The stabbing pain travels up the sides of her neck and explodes in a blistering burst of heat-light-noise-pain inside her head, and ripples down all her limbs like half a dozen bolts of lightning.
In an instant, she's overwhelmed with a memory from nearly a decade ago, a tail-fighter ****pit during a dogfight near the edge of an obscure solar system. The fuselage of her wingman's ship shattered in an instant by debris from a not-distant-enough comet. A flash of shredder light off ice, stone, fluorescing frozen gases. Collision. Fragments of ship and Andalite, crystalline in the void, swept up in the comet's passing gravity, and now a permanent part of its coda. All in seconds and half-seconds. All without any conscious hand directing it, just the hideous unmeaningful cruelty of chance, physics, wrong place and wrong time. Should have been me.
She feels her hearts clutch simultaneously, and she stumbles. Recovers. Shakes herself like casting off water from her fur. Withdrawal has never felt like THAT. She slips a stim tablet from her utilikit, cracks it in half- just to take the edge off, set the world back in order, of course- and furtively crunches the half-tab under a forehoof. The radiant pain seems to step back a few paces.
She can think again, between breaths.
<Although I would appreciate it if you kept an eye or two on my back for me.> He's gone from the bridge before Enorryma remembers fully where she is again, and finishes nodding her reception of his request.
The bolt of heat strikes again, fierce and angry, like the last one was merely a warning shot across her bow.
He's gone from the bridge, which means he doesn't notice how her normally military-crisp posture starts to droop suddenly,
or how her legs buckle under her as she collapses onto her side,
or how all four eyes roll back, their lids fluttering saccadically.
She isn't conscious when the medic is called.
-
Chris O'Hearn has spent the better part of the day sleeping, while Keslin waits impatiently for the human's body to recharge. The Yeerk spends many of the hours going over his own and his host's memories of the interactions on the ship so far. He steers clear of memories of Tess' delivery, or the death of their son, or even the survival of their other son, who seems to be doing well. All of those personal considerations would make his role as leader more difficult.
For the many years that Keslin had served as leaders of the pirates he had refused to allow himself to get too close to Tess, despite Chris' own relationship with her. Rejoining Reven's rebellion had allowed Keslin to relax, to find stability, and to truly become a part of Tess' life, intimately. When they had decided to start a family, they had known there were risks, but now Keslin is cursing himself for allowing himself to become complacent. The risks were there, but they had seemed so distant, until that night the Andalites had attacked.
Never would have expected it from them, Keslin berates himself.
Dimly, Keslin is aware of Ossanlin's thought-speech. Chris' consciousness stirs slightly in response, and Keslin prods it further.
<<Come on, Chris,>> Keslin sighs. <<You've gotten more sleep than you probably will for awhile. We have business to attend to.>>
He isn't allowing himself to get his hopes up. This rendezvous spot should be where the better part of their medical staff was located, along with any patients that had survived and a few stragglers assigned to that particular division. Should be. Assuming they hadn't been shot down during the escape, and had managed to survive the intervening weeks.
Pushing himself up from the bed, Keslin ignores Chris' groggy protest and moves carefully through the room. Tess is still asleep, he notes with some relief. She deserves it, he thinks to himself, pausing to brush back a strand of her vivid pink hair.
He stops again at the small, makeshift cradle, holding his son. "James," he whispers. His hands are trembling too badly to grant him the confidence to pick the child up. Instead, he just watches the infant for a long moment, swallowing back a wave of bitter emotion.
Not now, he commands himself, straightening. He goes over to the facilities and cleans himself up best he can.
<<It's alright, man,>> Chris comments, slowly coming out of his sleepy stupor. <<I know. It sucks.>>
<<It does indeed,>> Keslin murmurs. <<But we do not have time to grieve, or to celebrate. We must continue moving forward.>>
By the time Keslin makes his way to the indicated Docking Hangar Chris is fully awake, and more well-rested than he has been in awhile. He steps into the hangar and looks around cautiously.
-
Claxter's stalk eyes sweep the area as he and Claxter step into the hangar bay. <Reputations, and how they are influenced,> he allows generously. <The Rebel Terenia seems quite insightful.> He turns and trots towards the Lightning Strike, giving Eleric only a nod acknowledging his rank as he approaches. The pilot is neither someone Aetheas knows well, nor someone he has any desire to know well. So many Andalites on this ship, how is he supposed to keep track of them all? The only reason he knows Claxter is because he's been assigned as his training instructor.
He comes to a stop some distance away from the ship and stands, watching the team assemble.
-
Ossanlin steps into the main hangar area, trotting down the concourse to Ligtning-Strike's docking area. He nods to Aetheas. Were it not for the young aristh's sheer impulsivity, he would've considered taking him along as well. He turns and nods to Eleric, who performs a tail-salute. <I want this to be clean, Warrior. You are to run a standard patrol perimeter around the Tyrennian. This is a purely defensive operation. You will not be accompanying us to the meeting site. I will contact you if I need you there, but only if I need you...do I make myself clear?>
Eleric's jovial nod and reply makes Ossanlin chuckle a bit on the inside. The Warrior took any excuse to fly and ran with it. If he kept at it, he might actually best Norry some day...Ossanlin isn't sure he'd be able to out-fly the Warrior in a Tail Fighter himself anymore. <Enorryma has command of the Tyrennian until my return. Be sure to follow her orders.>
He turns and walks down the long concourse to the irregular docking hangar. He notes that Claxter, Serid, and Keslin have already arrived. No sign of Myitt yet though. He trots up to the group and nods.
<Keslin, thank you for joining me. As I'm sure you know, we've arrived at the first set of rendezvous coordinates you supplied to us. Myitt suggested that you would like to meet with your people first, and alone. This is likely the wisest course of action. Your survivors do little good for anyone, themselves included, if they get the wrong impression and bolt.> Ossanlin commands the ray-shields around a concealed craft to lift. As they disengage, they reveal a Bug Fighter looking somewhat the worse for wear.
<I managed to procure this fighter some years back. I assure you, it's fully functional, and I've had what remain of my flight-staff working on it and testing it to make sure you can use it safely. I had thought it would be best for you and Myitt to meet your people in a ship they might be expecting. There is also room for a third passenger in the Bug should you see fit to bring anyone else with you. Claxter, Serid, and I will follow in the Mirage, but will remain well outside of sensor range until you contact me. Does this plan meet with your approval?>
-
Eleric looks up as Aetheas approaches his ship. He smiles, but before he has a chance to say anything, Ossanlin is there. He performs a tail salute before speaking. <Captain.>
Ossanlin returns the tail salute before giving Eleric his instructions. Normally he'd be a bit crestfallen at being assigned a patrol run, but any excuse to fly was a good one, especially after being cooped up for so long. <Clear as Sky, Prince.> He doesn't even feel miffed about accepting Ossanlin's authority. He's just in a right fine mood.
He smiles again at Eleric. Normally he'd open with some sort of passive-aggressive comment about the aristh's deformity, but he's feeling so good that he decides to be cordial. <Aristh! It's a fine day for flying!> He finds himself wondering again if the slightly-younger Andalite will push more-heavily into Fighter combat...his poor tail would hinder nothing if he was embraced and conveyed by a streamlined, high-performing Tail Fighter.
-
Claxter sneered when Aetheas mentioned her and her possible "insightfulness". <Terenia and I do not get along at all.> he said simply. Being within earshot of his Prince, who obviously didn't share his disdain for Terenia, and about to go on a sensitive mission regarding more rebels that may or may not like her, he decided to say nothing else.
He stood at attention while Ossanlin spoke, and gave a small smile of amusement at Eleric. He wondered if the Prince would allow him to fly the Mirage, but figured he'd wait for him to make that decision. He was glad they had a bug to use for this. Yeerk craft did have their occasional uses.
-
Keslin gives the room a thorough once-over, noting Myitt's absence. He appears to be the only Yeerk, and Chris the only human.
<<Way to represent, man>> Chris offers helpfully. Keslin presses his lips together, repressing a sigh, and gives Ossanlin a small, businesslike nod. "The sight of a Bug Fighter will definitely be reassuring, as soon as they are sure it isn't Imperial in origin," he says. "I can head up the liaison mission. It may be best to allow Myitt to remain here and gather the other rebels."
His eyes rove over the Bug Fighter, the familiar curves of the ship comforting after so much Andalite technology. His trembling fingers itch with the urge to take over the controls, but he focuses on the task at hand, well aware of the fact that, for now at least, the Andalites will be taking cues from him.
"Alright," he says, rubbing his hands together, then shoving them into the pockets of his jeans to hide their shaking. "A few things. First of all, this rendezvous point was deemed the most important because it is the location that was given to our medical staff. If everyone is still there, and if everyone made it, that means our doctors will be brought on board. But it also means our patients will be brought on too, along with one or two others that were placed in that group. A comfortable space should be made ready for the patients. Presumably if they've lasted this long they're stable, eh?" He tries for a weak smile.
He lets out a slow breath, glancing around the room, considering. "I won't risk the safety of any other rebels, not while they're still recuperating. I'll go alone. If any of your warriors have a human morph and wish to join me, they may do so, but they must remain in morph until I've diffused the situation. Preferably someone who can man the weapons, just in case we run into unforeseen trouble."
-
<Hmm...> Ossanlin furrows his brow in thought. <I believe Claxter has a human morph. I myself have one...a frolis of Tara and Mike. I can't say that I personally have any more than cursory experience with Bug Fighter technology, though I must warn you that by "fully functional," I meant the engines and life-support systems. The weapons system on this ship was given the lowest priority for repair. It will likely not function to standard, or perhaps not at all.> He pauses for a moment of thought before going on. <I believe that of all of the Andalites currently under my command, Claxter and I are the only ones which possess human morphs, and can also use them.> He gives Serid a cursory glance.
Ossanlin nods in response to Keslin's suggestions regarding Tara, and sighs to himself before reaching a decision. <Very well, a change of plan is in order. Claxter, you will accompany myself and Keslin aboard the Bug. Serid, summon one of your most-trusted security staff to accompany you aboard the Mirage.> He shakes his head ruefully. <Enorryma would kill me if she knew what I was doing...> He pauses in thought before speaking again. <There is still the matter of clothing, I'm assuming that it would be disconcerting to your rebel friends to see a nude human in the co-pilot seat. I suppose if one of us keeps out of sight, the need is less-pressing for that one.>
Ossanlin doesn't show his discomfort at the situation. In a Bug Fighter, in a mostly-defenseless human morph, with a rebel he doesn't trust. Perhaps it's a somewhat irresponsible risk, but it's time to follow his own advice and be the first to extend the branch of trust willingly. Claxter's a decent marksman anyway...he'd be able to watch Ossanlin's own back, and it wasn't as if Ossanlin would be completely defenseless himself. He runs a hand over one of his Shredders subconsciously.
-
Claxter didn't feel too confident with this idea. The rebel they were with wasn't even Myitt, who Ossanlin trusted the most. <<I suppose if it comes to it, we would only need to stay safe long enough for Eleric's squad to come to our assistance.>> He said hopefully. He began to morph, readying himself to enter the bugfighter. He wondered if Ennoryma would be mad at him, having the role of bodyguard but not expressing how bad an idea this probably was.
-
Chris' eyebrows raise. "Clothes," Keslin echoes, looking down at his own attire, which has definitely seen better days. "Yeah, clothes may be a problem. Even beyond your morphs, all of the humans here are wearing the same clothes they were captured in."
<<Dom is probably having a complete fit,>> Chris provides ruefully. Keslin doesn't let the smirk of amusement reach his face.
"Okay. Um. I can give one of you my shirt, at least," he says, gesturing to the dirty, torn button-down that he is wearing over a plain white t-shirt. "I bet Dom has more than one layer on too, I could get something from him." He eyes both Ossanlin and Claxter doubtfully. "Was the Bug Fighter thoroughly searched? Sometimes they keep extra Imperial uniforms on board."
He glances at the old fighter, frowning. "As far as weapons are concerned...they merely need to look functional. I don't intend on shooting anyone."
-
Ossanlin nods at Keslin as he begins to morph. <Human nudity does not concern me personally, I only wish your people to refrain from being startled. Under the circumstances, it seems a reasonable precaution. They must understand that you are not under duress. At least, not from myself or my crew. To that end, clothing seems an appropriate precaution.>
He finishes his morph, standing nude in the docking bay. His hair is straight and black, nearly reaching the bottom of his neck. He stands 5'10" tall with a light frame of perhaps 140 lbs...150 at most, with minimal body-hair (mostly just a small trail near his navel leading down). His shoulders are square, and the body is definitely masculine in appearance, but his facial features contain a strange mix of both Tara and Mike. <The Bug Fighter has long since been emptied of all Imperial paraphernalia. I'm quite certain there were no uniforms aboard.>
-
Claxter finished his own brown haired, young adult Human form, flexing his muscles and getting used to it. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and tight shorts. He wasn't sure if Ossanlin was really as confident as he sounded that this was a viable plan, or if his confidence stemmed from his belief in Claxter's abilities or the hope that the rebels wouldn't attack unless given a good reason to. He tried to keep his own uncertainties from showing, though his mouth did instinctively frown a bit, and his eyebrows drooped slightly. Body language he was unfamiliar with.
-
Keslin clears his throat, trying to keep Chris' cheeks from reddening. While the Yeerk himself has no particular predisposition towards whether human nudity is appropriate or not, Chris was raised in a family that definitely frowned upon adult males frolicking about without garments.
<<Now I know Dom would be having a fit, if he knew what we were up to,>> Chris comments mildly, trying to hide his discomfort.
<<Perhaps it is best we do not enlighten him,>> Keslin responds dryly, shucking the plaid button-down and tossing it towards Ossanlin. <<He would spend the entire two hours attempting to convince them to partake in human vices.>>
<<Dude. Not something I want to think about when there's a naked man in front of me. Will you keep my eyes on his face? Or on Claxter? At least he managed to morph some clothes. For ****'s sake, man,>> Chris says, and he can feel the embarrassed heat rising in his cheeks despite Keslin's best attempts at neutrality.
"No, you are right, of course," Keslin says, carefully directing Chris' eyes at Ossanlin's face, trying not to think too much about the strange mixture of Mike and Tara that is present there. "My friends will be alarmed, to say the least, if I am flanked by a nude human. If we are able to make visual contact it would be best to keep Claxter in view, and you from, erh, the waist up." Chris is a few inches taller than Ossanlin's human morph, thankfully, and the shirt tails should provide at least some modest coverage, but it wouldn't take much imagination -- or movement -- to eliminate that.
<<Dear God, what have we been reduced to?>> Chris wonders rhetorically as Keslin averts his gaze and steps towards the Bug Fighter, examining it more closely.
-
Ossanlin catches the garment out of the air and dons it. There is a subtle, not terribly pleasant aroma coming off of the shirt. Of course, these humans had been locked in cells for days. While they may have availed themselves of the opportunity to clean up, there would not have been any way to clean the artificial coverings. He notices some discomfort in Chris's expression as he dons the garment. He's never understood the human obsession with covering their natural bodies. Of course, in certain environments it would be necessary, but in this climate-controlled ship, there would be no need.
"The co-pilot's console would sufficiently camouflage my lower section, yes?" He fastens a few of the shirt's...buttons...odd that they did not actually activate anything when pressed. Or perhaps it was odd that the fasteners were called "buttons" in the first place. He notes that his utility belt and sash have gone slack and fallen off of his body, pooled around his feet. He bends down and detaches the swords and sash, handing them to Serid. <Take care of these, Command Warrior.> The belt he picks up and cinches just a tad tighter so that it holds around his human waste underneath the shirt, the weapons and War Prince insignia mostly-hidden.
He follows Keslin toward the ship and raises an eyebrow. Human faces had so many emotive capabilities... "Does it meet with your approval?" He forces himself not to play with the mouth sounds...he'd gotten beyond that. Except he hadn't morphed a human in quite some time, and the novelty seems...well...nove l again.
-
Joanne gets increasingly frustrated frustrated by the lack of people in the crew quarters. She was able to spot a few rebels, but was unable to get them to stop for even a moment. They were obviously headed over toward wherever Ossanlin had summoned most people. Joanne kicks the ground, growling. "Nuts. They've all gone ahead."
<What now?>
"Guess we try a few more rooms an' then head toward the Dome," muttered Joanne, dusting off one of her shoulders and shifting its weight. Joanne started off down the hallway, but then noticed something rather strange. A medic team was darting quickly past her, carrying an unconscious Andalite with them. Joanne glanced at the patient and her eyes widened in shock. It was the tough one, the one who was insanely loyal to War-Prince Ossanlin. She was out?!
<Interesting. I suppose the stress was too much for her. We should probably let the War-Prince know. There should be a wall-mounted ship communications device somewhere in these quarters.>
Joanne eventually located the device and spoke into it, hoping to high heaven the thing took speech as well as thought-speak. "Hey, guys? This is Joanne. Before you go off to that meetin' point, there's somethin' you should know. The scary girl Andalite, Euro-whatsherface? She's out, way out. We saw the meds takin' her."
-
Aetheas watches as the mission crew makes ready to depart, hiding his envy well, he thinks, as Ossanlin and Claxter take on new forms. He elects to keep a close eye on Chris, taking in his actions and mannerisms. If he's to be expected to socialize with these rebels, it may be to his advantage to take cues from their leader.
He hears the communication intended for the Captain, the one made by one of the rebels. It's audio rather than thought-speech, so there's no chance of it being private. He frowns at the mention of an Andalite being 'out.' There aren't that many females on the ship, but he can't place a Euro-whatsherface. He looks towards Claxter... or the human that Claxter's become, at least... confused.
-
<I am not familiar with a Euro-something, or what way out means. Hopefully the medical staff can handle things.> Claxter said. Keslin and Chris obviously wanted to have a talk with their own medical staff, and all the rebels were probably anxious to hear of any other survivors. <Aetheas, why don't you go to the med bay and see who exactly the staff is working on?>
-
Ossanlin uses the touch-panel near the door to command the bug to open. While it could've been fitted with a thought-speech transceiver, there seemed little point. The air wafting past the bare portions of his skin did feel a bit odd without fur, especially around the point where the legs connected with the trunk of the body. Of course humans did have a large amount of nerve endings in that vicinity...even knowing the facts, he feels a strange sort of thrill from the eddies of atmosphere swirling around and against that area of his body.
He boards the ship and walks up to the co-pilot's console, beginning the Bug's start-up sequence. He moves to sit in the small chair and hisses, immediately standing up again, only staying upright by grabbing the console in front of him. The sudden influx of cold feelings against the human morph's bare skin had been...startling... and more than a little uncomfortable. He sits again, more carefully, and grits his teeth until his body's ambient heat warms the chair.
"I begin to understand why you humans wear artificial 'clothing' at all times." He glances over at Keslin.
-
Claxter entered the ship after his Prince, standing in the back. There wasn't much room for three people, but he tried not to think of the closed in space. He kept his eyes forward, looking outside and keeping his thoughts on the task at hand. He never considered himself more claustrophobic than the typical Andalite, though being in a bug with two people, and without his tail made him slightly uncomfortable.
-
Keslin follows the two morphed Andalites onto the Bug Fighter, managing a small, wry grin at Ossanlin's reaction to the cold chair. "Yes, well, there are more reasons than one," he says lightly, going over to the primary navigational controls and running his fingers over the console. He sighs a little, the familiarity utterly relieving after so long on an Andalite ship.
"She's beautiful," he concludes, the grin still in place, but softening a little. <<By the Kandrona, I miss the pirate days,>> he whispers to Chris, taking his seat.
<<You and me both, man,>> Chris responds, perking up a bit at the impending mission. The flush that had alighted his cheeks is fading fast, now that Ossanlin is at least partially covered and no longer standing.
"I'm ready when the two of you are," Keslin reports, entering in the manual command that allows living metal restraints to slither over his chest and midsection, securing him to the chair.
-
Claxter managed to find a somewhat comfortable seated position behind the chairs. "Let us procccceed." Claxter said, enjoying the S sound a bit.
-
Ossanlin keys up the weapons systems and checks their status, noting the flashing red Yeerkish text. He can decipher most of it, but the flashing red is really all he needs to see. "While the weapons appear to be functional at a casual glance, they most-certainly are not." He pauses at Keslin's mention of "beauty." While fully functional, the Bug was old...at least two model-types older than the current versions. It had battle scarring and wear damage...but to each his own.
"I think it wise for you to pilot the ship. The hangar's selective force-field is open for passage." Ossanlin nods to Keslin.
<<Keep down, Command Warrior, but also stay alert. Myitt trusts Keslin, which points in his favor, but we need to be ready for any situation.>> He attempts to move a stalk-eye to look at Claxter, but then remembers with dismay that his field of vision is sorely-limited.
-
Eleric activates the full-body stabilizing field in his Tail-Fighter before lifting off and exiting the hangar. <Lightning-Strike, wing formation. We are to supply Prince Ossanlin with an escort out to standard patrol radius, where we will commence a linear quadrant patrol along the standard radius. Let's keep things tight.>
Eleric does his best to suppress the euphoric combination of excitement and joy that he feels at actually flying his Tail-Fighter again. Not that the sensation is unpleasant in any way...but reveling in it was a good way to get oneself Draconed.
-
Varekil wakes in his quarters to an urgent communication on his transponder. <Yaolin. I'm on my way.> He darts out of his quarters and up to the bridge where he's treated to a disturbing sight...Prince Commander Enorryma herself laid out on the deck, seizing.
He points to two of the bridge officers. <You, both of you. I need help getting her to the medbay.> He activates the emergency point-field and uses it to lift Enorryma's twitching form off of the deck. <You, restrain her tail, you, push her to the medbay.> The two Andalites do as instructed, and Varekil starts interfacing his medical ARC with Enorryma's form, running along beside her. <Yaolin...severe stim withdrawal. Hyper-severe...> He uses his compact multi-med injector to administer a mild sedative, calming Enorryma's seizures, but that's about all he can do.
He barely notices the human they run by through the dome on the way to the med-bay, as he administers a weak steroid to keep Enorryma's hearts beating. <Hold on, Prince Commander.> <<I didn't sign up to be a lead medical officer.>> The last comment directed only to himself.
-
<<I remain alert, my Prince, and my shredder is ready. On stun, of course. I hope that they are there, and safe.>> Claxter said quietly.
-
<Yes, Command Warrior,> Aetheas says to Claxter, and turns to walk back towards the med bay, keeping a stalk eye turned back towards the ships as they load up and prepare for liftoff. He does a good job, he thinks, of suppressing his own envy. Once again, he's being excluded from something he'd be more than capable of doing based only on the fact that he can't morph.
Once he reaches the top of the ramp, he breaks into a trot, running through a thousand things in his head to keep that resentment from welling within him again. He's so distracted, he nearly plows into Varekil.
<TO Enorryma!?> he gasps when he sees the unconscious Andalite.
-
Varekil glances at Aetheas. <Yes, aristh. If you have any medical training, follow me.> He doesn't look back at Aetheas as they continue jogging for the medbay. <<Her biochemistry is breaking down...how can I...I can't...stasis.>> He grimaces to himself. <<It'll have to be stasis.>>
-
Keslin nods, pulling up the navigational holoscreen and initiating manual controls. No use in using autopilot until he is familiar with the particular workings of this ship. It has seen better days, certainly, and that means that there will likely be a few oddities to how it runs. The thought sends a small thrill of satisfaction through Keslin, as he thinks back to his own beat-up Bug Fighter, even older than the one they are situated in now.
"Make sure you're secure," he says offhandedly, a last-second thought. It is second nature for him to strap in, as long as he has been in a human host. He hopes the acceleration will not knock the morphed Andalites off balance too badly.
With practiced ease, Keslin primes the engines, letting the ship hover off the floor of the docking bay. He guides it out, into open space, getting acquainted with controls he has not used in some time. It is only once the fighter is well clear of the Andalite Dome Ship that he punches the acceleration, a small grin alighting his features as he watches the navigational display.
-
Unfortunately the inertial dampers in the bug are only partially functional, and Ossanlin is pressed into his seat as the bug lifts off and accelerates forward. He grabs for his console, but too late as a sharp turn throws him sideways into Keslin's seat, head landing face-down, squarely in Chris's lap. He grunts and quickly works to right himself, putting himself back into his own seat, using the console commands to engage the seat restraints. He tries to keep his face impassive, but his human hip and shoulder throb with forming bruises. The Yeerk had likely done that intentionally...the last thing he wants to do is give Keslin a "rise." He hisses slightly as the cold metal restraints wrap around his legs, and then brings up the navigational display on his own console, noting the approaching blips.
"So, Keslin...how will your people respond to seeing a human they do not know?" Ossanlin keeps his eyes forward, watching as the six streamlined silver tail-fighters surround the bug and follow its vector. In order to keep himself busy, he commands his ARC to begin playing back the report on any aberrations or communications made in or from Keshin's quarters. He didn't think anything would come of it, but if anyone deserved such surveillance, it was Keshin.
<<...She's out, way out. We saw the meds takin' her.>>
'Euro-whatsherface?' Ossanlin furrows his eyebrows and tries to open a communications line with Enorryma's ARC. When she doesn't answer, Ossanlin quickly suppresses his anxiety. Could Keshin and Joanne have meant Enorryma herself? He opens communications with Esarvit next.
<<Sir...I'm...I'm in command and I'm tracking your progress.>>
Ossanlin's hearts drop, his blood running cold. Something was wrong. <<Prince Lieutenant, where is Prince Commander Enorryma?>>
<<She...she collapsed on the bridge, my Prince. Varekil is taking her to the medbay. I've not heard back from him yet.>>
<<Very well...keep me apprised of the situation, and keep the Tyrennian under control until my return.>> His tone of thought does nothing to betray the feelings of anxiety that push through his mind. Hopefully Varekil could fix her up. Whatever the case, he has to keep his mind focused on the present. His eyes widen a bit as he realizes after the fact, that Keshin and Joanne had actually tried to warn him. Esarvit should've contacted him immediately, but he hadn't. Keshin and Joanne were the only reason he'd heard at all. Maybe they actually were trying to give up their old ways, though that seemed a far cry. He'd have to speak with them after he sorted things out.
-
Eleric watches as the Bug Fighter containing Prince Ossanlin and Command Warrior Claxter exits the irregular hangar.
<Lightning-strike, form up around our Prince. Let the Yeerk know what's waiting if anything "goes wrong."> He flies up to the point of the formation and glides in slightly above and forward of the Bug Fighter, the rest of the fighters tighten up in a cuboidal formation, with one above, one below, one to either side, and one behind. Should one draw lines between the fighters, the resulting shape would be a cube with one corner pointed forward and the bug in the middle.
-
Claxter slid from one side of the ship to the other, and bumped against the wall. The dampeners must not be working at their best. Apparently Keslin was reveling a bit at being in a bug again. Still, he found his hand instinctively resting on his shredder.
<What is Eleric doing now?> He asked as he saw the fighters form up around the bug. Did they not like that little maneuver either?
-
Ossanlin turns his head to look at Claxter. <They are escorting us to standard patrol perimeter. It's standard operating procedure in this situation, Command Warrior.> Ossanlin smiles a bit. That wasn't technically a lie. Any ship bearing a Captain could be given an escort of fighters, especially in a dangerous situation, but it wasn't exactly required. Ossanlin's certain that Keslin sees the action for what it is...a casual display of fighter superiority, but since he doesn't completely trust Keslin, the escort should serve as a friendly reminder that 'funny-business' would not be in the best interests of either himself or his people. The move could be considered an honor, so there's no implied insult to Keslin's trustworthiness, yet it serves the same purpose.
-
<Ah, right. I thought they were reacting to Keslin's eagerness in beginning the mission.> He actually didn't have all maneuvers memorized like he probably should have. There were a lot of details that went with working on a Dome ship. He wondered if he'd eventually know every in and out of it.
-
Keslin jumps in surprise when Ossanlin falls from his chair, hitting him in a rather uncomfortable place. Luckily, the restraints keep him from going too far, and by the time Ossanlin rights himself the only sign of discomfort is a telltale red flush on his cheeks as he watches the viewscreen. "The restraints are there for a reason, Captain," he says with a small smile. "Humans do not stay put quite as easily as other species."
He registers the conversation between Ossanlin and Claxter without comment, though he does keep careful watch on the other fighters. Keslin is not foolish enough to think that their presence is perhaps a bit more than necessary -- something which likely makes them entirely necessary in Ossanlin's view.
<<Andalites,>> he snorts internally. <<They enjoy flexing their muscles as much as any Yeerk Visser. The only difference is that they pretend to be more subtle about it.>>
"I expect they will react with suspicion," Keslin responds to Ossanlin's question casually. "But they can run a scan of the ship to verify that there is only one Yeerk present. They will relax significantly once they see you as free humans. Of course, as soon as they realize what you truly are their opinions may change quickly."
-
"I had suspected as much...that they would react with suspicion, that is. And who could blame them? Do you have a plan to keep them from bolting once they do learn who your newest allies are?" Ossanlin forces himself not to play with the mouth sounds, though it's hard. The flush from his fall begins to fade. These fur-less bodies could be decidedly inconvenient in so many ways...
-
Aetheas shakes his head slightly as he follows Varekil. He has no medical training beyond the basics, and years spent observing in medical facilities. He says nothing, but his mind continues running in circles. As they reach the medbay, he finally gets a good look at Enorryma.
He stands off to the side, trying to discern the situation through the activity surrounding her. Whatever's happened to her seems critical enough to require stasis. Things must be worse than they look. Aetheas feels a strange emotion rising within him-- one that he can't quite place. Enorryma is one of the most capable members of this crew, one he's simultaneously looked up to from afar and considered to possibly be eventual competition in his career. If this kind of thing can happen to her, seemingly without any warning, what chance do the rest of them stand, out here on their own?
-
Joanne debates what her next move should be, standing next to the communicator. If one of the primary officers was down for the count, this boat was not going to last very long---- no matter what they did. She couldn't merely go hunting for the ship's plans and take off, though--- that was an obviously dumb thing to do. So the best thing seemed to be to try and help the officer, right? Who knows--- maybe they needed an extra hand.
<Joanne, Ossanlin won't even let us into that area of the ship. How is helping the Andalite going to help us? And the boat is not going to sink. I can't believe I'm even deigning to call it a "boat...">
<Look, in my experience, when the strong guy goes down his whole team goes down too. Morale drops and people get pissed at one another. >
<That's not how it works....on a ship like this. But.....fine. We'll do it.>
Keshin continued to allow Joanne control for the time being. He wondered if he might regret it. She could be terribly irrational.
Joanne, meanwhile, wandered in the general direction of the med bay, a scowl upon her face. She knew that, on some level, Keshin had meant to say "in the real world." Yet what did he know about chaotic situations like this, where most of the people were together as a matter of convenience? She knew far more than he did. The place was set to blow like a powder keg if even the slightest bit of fighting broke out, and the best thing they could do right now was show group solidarity.
They could worry about leaving the group later.
-
Varekil frowns as he gets Enorryma into the med-bay. His scans show her endocrine system self-destructing, sending damaging signals throughout her body. He does his best to keep up with the misfiring endocrine system, but he's losing the battle. <Yaolin...you, prep one of the stasis pods.> He points at the singular medical aid that had stayed on the Tyrennian.
Varekil immediately begins administering the drugs that would slow Enorryma's metabolism evenly and safely.
-
Aetheas stands aside and watches as Varekil and the medical aid work to stabilize Enorryma's condition, his hearts racing as he tries to think of some way he can help. He keeps both stalk-eyes on her, trying to understand what may have happened.
With his main eyes, however, he watches as the lab tech slowly, meticulously works his way, slowly, through the startup process for one of the stasis pods, reading through the instructions as he goes. This is obviously not something the young Warrior has done often.
<You can't set the radiological decay rate before you have the body in the environment,> Aetheas supplies helpfully to the aid. He is met with an angry glare for his trouble, but watches with some satisfaction as the aid reads back through the instructions and corrects his action. He continues watching for a few moments, fully aware that the aid is now keeping a stalk eye leveled at him.
<Also,> Aetheas speaks up soon, <it may be dangerous to allow the computer to determine synapse stasis rate without both an archived medical file of the subject and a proper reading of her current state. That's just common sense.> He again receives a glare for his trouble, this time accompanied by a rude gesture. The Warrior quickly scans the instructions again, then seems to shrug and plows ahead anyway.
<Stop, you idiot!> Aetheas shouts. <If you don't change that the pod setting, she could suffer brain damage!> The aid ignores him and plows forward through his instructions, and Aetheas takes a step forward before his stalk eyes find Varekil and he thinks better of it.
-
Varekil keeps his main eyes on his work with Norry as her breathing and heart-rate slow steadily, her body's metabolic decay slowing along with it. One stalk eye watches the medical aid with one stalk eye, Aetheas with the other. He furrows his brow at the exchange. The aristh was technically correct, but the type of calibration he's speaking of would have to be developed after Enorryma is put into stasis. However, the Warrior was being too hasty with his set-up.
<Follow the aristh's suggestion and perform a partial cross-reference with the Prince-Commander's existing neurological scans. But don't perform a full synchronization...w e don't have enough time.> Varekil avoids dressing the aristh down for insubordination, partially because he's uncomfortable doing such things, but also because Aetheas had been partially correct.
He continues to monitor Enorryma's "cool-down" as it progresses.
-
Ossanlin glances over at Keslin, the unanswered question still hanging in the air as the ship reaches standard patrol perimeter. He watches the display as Eleric and Lightningstrike break off to start their patrol route and the bug continues on toward a small grouping of asteroids.
He watches the display closely, but no signatures register. As the ship slows, he looks up at Keslin questioningly. If there were any rebels here, they were hiding, and hiding well.
-
Joanne enters the med bay, a worried look appearing on her face as soon as she sees the situation. The Andalite was out cold, and surrounded by multiple others trying to save her. Joanne didn't know anything about Andalite medical technology, but it didn't look good. The ship's most dangerous fighter was either going to die or going to be down for the count for a long while. <****. **** this looks grim.>
<We shouldn't be here. We should let them do their work. Interfering will not fix what happened, and we are not to blame.>
<....look, I know. But y'never know a thing until you try. Ain't that how I got to bein' wit' you?>
<....>
Joanne cleared her throat and said, in the calmest voice she could manage, "Uh....hey. The name's Joanne. I know I shouldn' be in here, but I wanted to see how she was. I saw you takin' her in here an' I let the captain know about it."
-
"I don't," Keslin admits, shrugging. "They are free individuals. If they want to bolt, they should be allowed to. I am not going to force them to remain on your ship if they don't want to. But...I will tell them that Myitt and I have chosen to do so for the time being. Hopefully that will persuade some of them."
He leans forward as they enter the boundaries of the rendezvous point. Frowning, Keslin enters a series of Yeerkish script into the hologram, then sends it out into seemingly empty space. An encrypted message, for anyone who might be watching.
"If anyone is here, they'll respond," Keslin says quietly, eyes on the communications array. He tries to ignore the twisting in his stomach, and the probing worry that no one else has survived.
Luckily, Keslin does not have long to wait. The communications array blinks red, indicating an audio-visual request. The hail comes with a message that blinks in their line of vision, also in Yeerkish.
A hiss of relief escapes Keslin. "It's Farrah," he says, relaying the message. "And her Yeerk, Isren. They're our neurosurgeons. Thank the Kandrona."
-
Varekil glances at Joanne with a stalk-eye. Enorryma was nearly ready to be placed into the stasis pod. He frowns to himself but continues his work. <She's not well. Her vital systems are breaking down. Our only choice is stasis. The damage will likely take months to repair, if we can repair it at all.>
The Yeerk had warned the Captain? Odd. <It is good that you informed our Prince...this situation...> Varekil sighs to himself in exasperation.
-
Ossanlin raises his eyebrows at Keslin. "I understand your missstrust and perhaps I wasn't speaking as accurately as I should have. I have no desire to force your compatriots to do something that they do not. What I meant was to ask if you had a plan to successfully convince them of the fact that there's no need to bolt. I would not hold innocent people against their will."
He watches as the message pops up on the display. He can read the Yeerkish, though perhaps not as quickly or accurately as a true Yeerkish xenolinguist. "Ah, your medical crew. This is fortuitous indeed." He glances around. "Is she the only one here?"
-
Firin-985 jogged out of his self-induced trance as his ship's computer chirped. An encrypted message...someone was here. More survivors...he felt Rythil's heart jump. The Hork-Bajir had been nearly inconsolable since the attack. Many of his friends were missing...so many people were missing. Firin felt Rythil's anger rise this time...the Hork-Bajir was usually level-headed and empathetic. A very kind example of his species, but he'd always held a burning anger for Andalites since the quantum virus. The latest attack had only reinforced and strengthened that anger. The Andalites had taken two homes from him now, and killed countless people he'd cared for. Firin can't blame him, though logic left little room for anger.
He decides to let one of the others answer. A few minutes later, he picks up the response from Farah. Good...socializatio n isn't his strong-suit and Rythil's in no fit state to be doing anything. He listens closely to the feed to see who'd arrived.
-
"I hope not," Keslin says. "I'm going to keep the visual focused on myself for the time being." He gives Ossanlin a grim smile, then accepts the communication request.
The battered fighter shows its age, the computer humming laboriously as it seeks to obey the command. It takes a few long moments, but eventually the communications holoscreen flickers to life, displaying the visage of a young woman, perhaps in her early to mid thirties, with deep brown skin and dark hair. Her brown eyes are wide with disbelief.
"Keslin--" she says breathlessly. "Keslin, is that really you?"
On the Skimmer ship, cloaked and shielded some distance away, Farrah's hands move over her own ship's controls, sending a message to the other ships and linking them into her feed, allowing all of the rebels to witness the conversation, even if they cannot participate.
Keslin gives a small, brief smile. "Yeah, it's me," he says, coughing a laugh and smiling almost sheepishly. "It's good to see you, Farrah."
Farrah nods, still looking mystified. "We thought for sure you were dead. Who else--tell us what happened. Tell us everything, please."
"I will," Keslin says. "But let's take care of business first. Who else is at the rendezvous? Do you have a roster of ships and personnel?"
<<She looks shaky,>> Chris comments. <<And she was never exactly in charge of the med bay.>>
<<I know,>> Keslin responds, frowning. <<It is worrisome that Sam and Kalnath did not answer.>>
-
Xevec and Derrel were sitting in their ship, thinking. Not much else to do but think. Where could the Andalites have taken his friends? He saw them drag a couple away. His old host, Phillip, had tried to free them, but he was shot down. Just coldly disintegrated for daring to fire on them with the stun setting. Xevec saw it because he was looking for the guy,m to try to convince him to come along the escape route that Xevec had always planned in case he needed it. The only reason he made it was because he studied the tunnels so much, in case the rebels decided they didn't want him alive anymore.
Finally his thoughts were interrupted by an encrypted message. Maybe he should have let someone else answer, and in fact Farrah had picked it up. He needed something, though. Anything to do besides sit and think. He answered the message.
"Chris!" He said, when he saw who it was. "Keslin too? Boy am I glad to see you. What happened to you guys?"
-
"Thanks," states Joanne awkwardly, shifting her posture back and forth. She wasn't really sure what she could say to this guy. He seemed cold and intimidating. For all they knew, this Andalite who had dropped might be the medic's best friend. Joanne wandered closer to peer down at the unconscious Andalite's body, her expression shifting to one of concern.
"What d'ya think happened, anyway?" Joanne said, looking up at him. "Doesn' seem clear to me. Damn woman was real strong. I remember her durin' when you guys sprung us from prison."
<It could be anything, you know.>
<Or it might be somethin' we can help with.>
-
Ossanlin raises his eyebrows as he watches on impassively. When the second voice crackles through, he frowns a bit, but says nothing. It's good to know that there are others, and this must be a joyous reunion, but the lack of discipline still manages to bother him on some level. But then who was he to preach discipline when he'd committed crimes against his own government that would warrant a death penalty if there was one on the Homeworld. Sector Seven would probably make sure he encountered a tragic accident whose fault belonged to no one if he were to go back now.
-
Varekil watches Joanne and Keshin with a bit of apprehension...ther e's a Yeerk in that human after all. But he's too busy with Enorryma's preparation to allow something so trivial as discomfort to distract him.
<Stimulant Syndrome. It's the first time I've seen it in person, and I understand why stim-caps were discontinued. No one short of the Ellimist could keep up with this.> He keeps a stalk-eye on Joanne before sighing and deciding to explain a bit further. <The Prince Commander is a narthicyl addict. Standard issue field supplies from her days as a fighter pilot. It builds up in the system over time. Overall tolerance depends upon personal genetics and general resistance. Up until a few minutes ago, Prince Commander Enorryma was the longest-using narthicyl addict to escape the effects of Stimulant Syndrome by a fair margin.> He shakes his head, checking over the stasis pod before shifting Enorryma's body into position.
-
Firin finds himself feeling...relieved. ..that Keslin has arrived. He'd been worried about the remainder of the Rebellion being decapitated...at least one of the leading figures survived, albeit perhaps one of the less-desirable ones. He frowns and shakes his head as he hears Xevec chime in. That one...the situation needed to be ascertained before he went revealing their numbers.
Rythil feels buoyant as Keslin speaks up. Firin was certainly right about having leadership. I the Rebellion were to survive this blow, which he'd thought it would not up until this very moment, it would need leadership. But something bothers him about Keslin's tone...<<Something isn't right, Firin.>>
Firin frowns again as Rythil's empathetic talent percolates through his mind. <<Indeed, something isn't right. I'm almost certain I witnessed Keslin's ship being captured in the assault, though I cannot shed all doubt. Things were much too hectic. If true though...given Keslin's talents in that field are...developed...I have a hard time believing that he engineered an escape from Andalite custody, and with his host and a bug fighter no less. I hope Farah remains wary.>>
-
Joanne bites her lip, staring down at the Andalite and squirming in what's almost revulsion. Of course it's drugs. Damn drugs. Andalite or human, nothing good comes of it at all. She needed to take a drug in order to survive, but she was only too familiar with the destruction they brought on honest people. "That's....that's really too bad. I dunno what drug y'mean, but I know a lot about addicts. Human drugs break your spirit."
She wondered what the Andalite would think if she told him that drug addiction was part of what sent her to the Yeerks. The Andalites seemed to see things in a black-and-white, here-or-there sort of way and Joanne of all people knew how silly thoughts like that were. But still, he was in the middle of a medical procedure. It wouldn't be a good idea to surprise him.
-
Varekil begins to maneuver Enorryma's body into the small stasis pod. <When Enorryma piloted Tail-Fighters, all pilots used narthicyl. Required by the military. It increases perception, reaction times, reflexes...it seemed to be completely without price aside from a slightly elevated pulse and increased natural adrenal production. The first few cases of Stimulant Syndrome appeared six months after the mass incorporation of narthicyl.>
He finishes positioning Enorryma in the stasis pod and seals it, starting the internal incorporation process. <Those cases were dismissed as strange outliers. Narthicyl wasn't even considered as a possible cause of death. Then the pilots started dropping left and right. Most stim-user Tail-Fighter pilots succumbed within two years of narthicyl incorporation. Some made it five years, and a very few managed to make it to ten. Prince Commander Enorryma's been a narthicyl addict for over twenty years. No one else has made it remotely that long as a continuous user.>
The internal incorporation finishes and Varekil breathes a sigh of relief as Enorryma's vital signs slow down even further before all but freezing solid.
-
Keslin grimaces a little as Farrah's response is cut off by another voice. It takes him a second to place it, then he smiles, all business, at least outwardly.
"It is good to hear your voice, Derrel. Xevec too, I hope. We will all have an opportunity to catch up soon, I hope. In the meantime, I need to discuss our current situation with Farrah."
Farrah's own expression shifts into a frown as she listens. "Of course I have a roster," she says with a nod. "You'll understand if I ask you to connect to our ship, yes?" Her smile is a little apologetic. "We've been trying to keep the same protocol in place. Bioscans and memory dumps for everyone from the outside that comes across us. Our paranoia was well-learned."
Keslin hesitates, then nods. "I'm not alone," he says bluntly. "I will, of course, consent to such things, but I cannot speak for my companions."
The woman's eyebrows furrow in sudden concern and suspicion. "Companions?" she echoes.
-
Xevec turned off his console after the exchange, and waited for the ship to approach. something about this wasn't quite right. Both he and Derrel were happy that someone survived, but who were these companions? Obviously not fellow rebels, and what were the chances that he recruited new ones? He was either captured, and escaped an Andalite prison, or managed to escape and make his way here. Derrel didn't really know what to think, except to wait until further information was given. Xevec looked to his comrades to possibly see what they thought of this. Firin didn't seem too confident either.
Claxter squirmed a bit at the idea of a memory dump. He wasn't about to say yes, except perhaps on the off chance that Ossanlin gave a direct order. He said nothing, though.
-
Ossanlin listens to the conversation quietly, waiting to see how Keslin plans to handle the situation. <<If it must be, though I think it would be best if they analyzed your memories first. Of course, the approach is up to you.>>
-
Aetheas watches as Varekil seals Enorryma inside the stasis pod. He knows a little about the narthicyl trials, of course, but up until now it had seemed like ancient history. Yet another mistake made long ago by the Andalite government.
<Morons,> he says sharply, to no one in particular. <Just like the military. Anything to gain an advantage without exploring the possible consequences first.>
He watches Joanne with a stalk eye. She seems to have had some experience with drugs. Actually, looking closer, at the lines in her face... was she less healthy than the other humans? Perhaps a user of drugs herself, from the way she talked. Aetheas resolves to look into her background further when he gets the chance.
As he stares at Enorryma, his hands ball into fists and he feels his tail tighten. She was one of the strongest and most capable members of this crew, and she'd been laid low by a drug and a system that were beyond her control. Oh, the things he'd like to do to whatever idiot member of the Electorate had done this to her...
-
Keslin gives Farrah a small smile, at the same time nodding ever so slightly to Ossanlin to indicate that he received the message.
<<Thought speak would be useful,>> Chris muses.
"Farrah, I brought two companions with me," he says levelly. "They are uninfested, and you can feel free to do a scan of the ship and of each individual once our ships join. You will find that I am the only Yeerk aboard the vessel."
He pauses to let that sink in for a moment. "We will consent to memory dumps, so long as you conduct mine first, to put them at ease."
Farrah nods, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. "Alright," she agrees. "I'll send you a set of coordinates. Go there and power down your ship entirely. Everything off except basic life support. All weapons stowed. You know the drill. We'll lock on to you and once we're in the same cabin we can go through the protocol. Only once that is done will we talk about the other ships, or how many survived."
"Of course," Keslin agrees, nodding, secretly pleased that Farrah is paying so much attention to detail. "I'll see you there."
Farrah herself nods, and then cuts the communication. She sighs and glances up at the cabin, which is cluttered with medical supplies salvaged from base. "Nefitt, I need you to help me," she says to a middle-aged man wearing dark brown scrubs. Despite his attire he looks like the last person anyone would want tending their medical needs. His hair is styled in long dreadlocks, and tattoos completely cover both of his arms. Despite the recycled water available on the ship, he looks to be in desperate need of a shower. Everything about him screams homeless.
"Of course," Nefitt says, sounding more cultured than his appearance would suggest. His brown eyes are alert as he goes over to one of the compartments, rifling through them.
Farrah raises her voice a little. "Xevec, I'm going to need you too!" she calls over to the 'quarters' -- which is really just a small room that has been outfitted with a hastily arranged triple bunk bed, the metal welded to the wall.
On the Bug Fighter, Keslin sits back once the communication cuts and gives Ossanlin a small smile. "Best let me go first once we connect. I can explain and, erh, we can get you some pants. Luckily this ship has med crew on it, so it isn't anything they haven't seen before. Still...it might weird them out."
-
Ossanlin lets none of his apprehension show in his facial features or posture. The image of calmness and control was always more important than the actual possession of said feelings in a command situation. On the inside, Ossanlin is nervous. Weapons stowed...and no natural defenses. Three infested humans on the same ship...only two morphed Andalites. Things could go very poorly here. He blinks a couple of times before nodding to Keslin, not trusting himself to use the human voice.
<<Very well.>> Someone had to be the first to extend a hand in trust...why not Ossanlin himself? The worst-case scenario would only mean the likely destruction of the Tyrennian and all those onboard under his responsibility after all.
-
Varekil frowns at Aetheas's comment, but once again decides to ignore it. The [/i]aristh[/i] could certainly benefit from being knocked down a few notches, though. The fact that he was right, at least in Varekil's opinion, didn't make it appropriate for one of his age and rank to voice such an opinion openly, and in front of a non-Andalite, no-less.
<Yes, well...she's in stasis now. The computer will perform a full mental scan over the next several days, and will then perfectly synchronize to her individual vitals. Once that's done, it can begin to repair the damage to her body, but it is pervasive and severe. It will be months before the Prince Commander can be revived...> He doesn't add that the medical facility at Cendorus could shave that down to a matter of weeks. The Tyrennian had one of the most state-of-the-art med-bays in the fleet, but no med-bay, not even the Tyrennian's, could compare to a full medical suite.
-
More and more, Claxter regretted that he was in morph. He was supposed to be here as the Prince's bodyguard, and didn't have his tail. He would have to make himself look as serious and imposing as possible. Exude confidence and intimidation. Not that he had any practice looking imposing or intimidating, and that just made him feel less confident.
Xevec made sure he had his dracon, and looked reasonably well kept. He went out of the room to stand ready with Farrah. "Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst." He said. That was pretty much his motto sometimes.
-
Keslin enters the new coordinates into the computer, letting autopilot lead the way. As soon as he is certain that the Bug is following his directives he stands, taking his Dracon Beam out of his holster and moving to one of the compartments to stow it safely. "All of your weapons will need to be stored in one of the compartments," he says. "If Farrah or the others are truly following protocol, they are trained to shoot on sight if a weapon comes into view."
He raises his voice, speaking to the computer in Yeerkish. "Computer, when we reach our destination, power down all systems except for life support."
"Thank you, Xevec," Farrah says with a small, warm smile. She pats her own holster, ensuring that her Dracon is in place, along with the various other contraptions that weigh down her belt. Next to the Dracon is a bioscanner, her computer cube, and her comm link. On the other hip a small emergency first aid kit is clipped to the belt.
"They should arrive in a few minutes," Farrah says, her fingers moving along the holoscreen as she ensures that the ship is fully cloaked and shielded. "We'll do a preliminary scan of the ship to verify the body count and ensure that it's powered down. If they're clear, then we'll have them dock to the Skimmer." She glances at Nefitt, who is frowning at the floor, expression distracted.
"Nefitt, if there are any medical issues, you take care of them. Otherwise, stay by me. Xevec, I want you visible in the main cabin but keep your weapon holstered unless anyone seems to pose a threat. I will be the only one with my Dracon drawn, understood? Nefitt, stand to the side of the hatch, so that if they come in shooting you have a chance to draw and fire."
Nodding, Nefitt moved over to the chairs that lined the side of the ship. He slid down into one, keeping a hand on his Dracon. He remains silent, eyes straight ahead. Whatever his thoughts are on the potential reunion, he is not sharing them.
-
"I am already in Human form. How am I supposed to actually do what I came here for if I get rid of my weapon?" Claxter asked. "If they insist on shooting on site just because I have a weapon on my person, we can begin the proper discussion after I shoot them all and revive one of them. Either I keep my weapon, or I demorph. One or the other."
"Understood, Farrah." Xevec said, holstering the dracon, and keeping his hand from being two millimeters away from it.
-
Keslin's eyebrows shoot up at Claxter's response. "These are my people, Andalite," he says quietly. "They will not shoot unless you give them a reason to, and your human morph was supposed to mitigate that possibility. Bringing a weapon along with you will make the entire point moot."
He glances at Ossanlin, unsure whether the Captain will take offense to his words, directed towards one of his lieutenants. He continues regardless. "For the time being, I am in charge of this vessel," he says quietly. "If you want me to work with you and your people then you need to extend some trust. If you cannot do that, then I will gladly call Farrah and tell her that the rendezvous is off."
-
"Some trust has been given, I assure you. Just not all." Claxter said. He wasn't sure what Keslin expected him to do if something went bad, though there was a good chance he just didn't care. "This protocol about stashing all weapons would have been a nice thing to bring up before we left the Tyrennian. Not right before we meet with your allies."
He doubted Keslin would call the rendezvous off, because Chris needed Farrah to help with his wife and child. Claxter would just have to call his bluff.
-
Keslin nods. "I understand your concern, Claxter," he says, trying to remain as diplomatic as possible. It is difficult, though, and some of his disdain for Andalites is reflected in his tone. "Unfortunately, we rebels have spent a lot of time learning how to be properly paranoid. I assure you that we will not board that Skimmer consciously if we have our weapons out. And if they shoot us, I cannot guarantee that you will be rendered conscious before your time limit in morph is reached."
His lip twitches a little. "I apologize if I presumed that you would expect such a procedure. I forget that Andalites are accustomed to carrying their weapons around on their ass."
-
<<What now, my Prince?>> He said privately as he looked at the floor thoughtfully. He didn't want to be defenseless, just hoping the Yeerks wouldn't decide to do something bad. The decision was up to Ossanlin, of course, but he didn't like this.
There was Keslin, and at least two controllers on the Skimmer. Maybe other ships nearby with other controllers. <<I don't know what's worse. Being in a firefight with these rebels, or being compeltely at their mercy.>>
-
Ossanlin doesn't grimace, his face remains impassive. He sends a private thought-speech message to his shielded but open comm. The bridge of the Tyrennian as well as Eleric could hear everything going on around Ossanlin. <<Stand ready, Eleric. But do not appear to. Things are going to become somewhat tense.>>
Ossanlin stands slowly and draws his Shredders, handing them to Keslin. <Just be aware that I have countermeasures in place as well. Do not forget what is at stake here...for all of us.>
<<Do as he says, Command Warrior. We have his mate and young aboard the Tyrennian...if his distress over the death of one of those children was feigned, it was done so better than I thought possible. If it was genuine, as I suspect, the life of his other child is enough to protect us.>> Ossanlin's face doesn't show his discomfort, but he feels it strongly. Holding something like that over a person's head...that sort of ruthlessness he'd never been comfortable with. But one used the tools one had at hand when needed.
-
<<Yes my Prince.>> Claxter said. He took his shredder out and put it in the compartment. There is was. His last line of defense. No tail. No shredder. Nothing left but his untrained morph with no natural weapons or superior strength or durability. Eleric was up there somewhere, but he was not at their side.
"I do not mean to be rude or offensive, Keslin. I am just....a little frightened." He had no idea why he was telling them this, but he hoped it would dissolve some tension that the Yeerk may have. He wanted this to work. They all did, hopefully.
-
"That's impressive," Keshin says, glancing about the medical consoles with some interest. So this was the famed Andalite medical technology. From what he'd heard you could get more...unique drugs in the Empire, but if what you sought was healing the Andalite ships were the place to go. "Considering that in most cases, someone who'd suffered an attack to their nervous system in this way would be braindead."
Keshin notes Aetheas' comment and raises an eyebrow, meeting the gaze of the Andalite's main eyes. "And you...not fond of the very military you serve, Andalite? Interesting--- I wasn't either. Similar reasons."
Similar enough to start conversation, anyway. It was more that the Yeerk saw the potential abuses ahead before they happened than after.
-
Varekil raises his eyebrows at Keshin. <Yes, well...too many of our people rely upon morphing as a catch-all. Some things cannot be repaired by morphing, and other things keep people from being able to morph. Our medicine was quite developed before the advent of morphing. The development of medical technology has slowed since then, but there are still those who see the value in true medicine.> Varekil finishes completely with Enorryma's pod, breathing deeply as his own adrenaline spike levels off. He wasn't qualified to run this medbay...he's just a field medic after all. Yet he has the most andalite medical knowledge aboard the Tyrennian. He sighs...this wasn't what he'd signed on for.
-
Aetheas frowns and turns his stalk eyes pointedly back towards Enorryma when Varekil speaks of the recent trend towards the morphing technology as medicine. He addresses Keshin instead. Either he didn't notice Varekil's frown, or he doesn't care.
<The military as a whole wouldn't be so bad if it weren't run by a bunch of second-rate bureaucrats attempting to accomplish goals that they don't fully understand.> He speaks quietly, distractedly, as though there's something else on his mind. He slowly makes his way towards the door-- he wants to leave here, immediately, but has no idea where he wants to go.
-
Keslin does calm a little when Claxter admits that he is frightened, nodding slowly. "I understand," he says, sighing a little as their ship reaches its intended destination and the computer automatically begins shutting down all of the systems except for life support. "I assure you, you have nothing to fear from my people."
He turns his attention to the viewscreen, which is displaying empty space. <<Probably cloaked,>> he murmurs to Chris. Sure enough, a moment later one of the auxilary systems indicates that their ship is being scanned by an invisible vessel. Despite himself, Keslin's own borrowed heart skips in nervousness.
"Three humans and one Yeerk," Farrah says, reading off the results of their scan. "As Keslin said. Computer, engage towing beams." She moves to the controls, manually directing the tractor beams until they come in contact with the decrepit Bug Fighter. Once there is a solid lock on them, she pulls the two ships together, following the directions of the Yeerk in her head.
Finally, with a soft scraping sound, the two ships are hugging one another, side to side. The living metal of the ships swells and joins together, creating a seamless bridge between the two vessels, uniting their hatches into one.
"On my command the hatch will open," Farrah says to Xevec and Nefitt. "Please be prepared, but not hostile."
She takes her place in front of the wall that will become the open hatch, watching as Nefitt moves to the side, out of any direct line of sight, his Dracon drawn and ready.
-
Claxter rises slowly from his seated position. Not much to do besides stand between his Prince and the Yeerks, and hope he didn't have to test out combat as an unarmed Human.
Xevec stood at attention, trying not to let his own doubts distract him. He tried not to just to any paranoid conclusions about this.
-
Ossanlin nods grimly, smiling a bit at Claxter...putting himself between Ossanlin and the possibly-hostile Yeerks. Of course, Claxter isn't quite nude, and Ossanlin himself has no pants...hopefully that wouldn't be too off-putting for those on the other ship. He keeps his footing steady despite the lack of a tail during the docking sequence. He places a firm hand on Claxter's shoulder briefly to convey both reassurance and approval. Claxter has come far from the scared runaway he was back when he'd first arrived at the bar.
<<Remember, Claxter, bravery is not a lack of fear, it is control in spite of fear. You are displaying true bravery admirably, Command Warrior.>>
"Let us all hope that is true, Keslin." He stands slightly back and to the left of Claxter, folding his human arms over his chest, putting on his mantle of confidence. It was remarkable what a display of confidence could do in many situations.
-
Keslin nods grimly, but before he can respond the hatch slides open, revealing Farrah, who has her weapon out, but pointed at the ground. What she raises towards Keslin instead is bioscanner, which confirms the identity of the Yeerk within Chris' head.
"Stay still," Keslin murmurs tersely, waiting while the scan runs through him. It is only after the scanner beeps a confirmation of his identity that his shoulders relax.
"Oh thank God," Farrah breathes, and she clips the scanner back to her holster, crossing the small cabin and throwing her arms around Keslin. "You're actually alive," she breathes, a small sob choking the words.
Keslin looks a little surprised at first, but his arms go around her obediantly, giving her a hug in return. "Barely," he says. "But, yes, we're alive." He pulls back a little, smiling faintly. "As are you."
"Some of us," Farrah says, her gaze shifting beyond Keslin's shoulder to the two human men behind him. The relief in her eyes shifts slowly to suspicion and confusion. "Keslin. Why is your companion not wearing any pants?"
"I'll explain everything," Keslin promises. "Do you have any to spare in the meantime? May we board?"
"Oh--yes. Yes, of course." Farrah steps back into her own ship, glancing at Nefitt. "Can you go find a pair of scrubs bottoms for our, er...guest?"
Nefitt presses his lips together, eyes scrutinizing Keslin as he steps onto the ship. "Only if Xevec keeps his weapon out," he says, his own Dracon still leveled at the open hatch. "Just because Keslin is who he says he is, that does not mean this is not a trap."
-
<<Thank you, my Prince. I feel we are about to need some true bravery shortly.>>
The hatch opened, and Claxter stood still as Keslin and farrah spoke. He walked forward a bit as he was invited in.
"Oh, my weapon will stay out." Xevec said with a smile. "Welcome aboard the Skimmer. Who are you?" He asked Claxter, since he was in front.
"Um..." Claxter said. He couldn't really blurt out his name, and wasn't sure if he should make up one. "You may call me what you want. I wish to let Keslin and my friend do most of the talking."
"Do you now?" He said, glancing at the other guy.
-
Ossanlin steps forward behind Claxter, looking around the inside of the Skimmer. It's remarkably well-maintained considering all of the circumstances. He notes Farrah's reaction with a bit of relief. Of course, that doesn't mean they will continue to be friendly after all of the information comes out.
He retrieves the pants from "Nefitt," and then attempts to look around with his stalk-eyes, only to be sorely disappointed. How had these humans ever managed to evolve with so little in the way of defense? Ossanlin instead rotates his head around. He finds the wall he'd been searching for, and leans his back against it in order to lift a leg into the air...he might've gotten somewhat accustomed to two legs and no tail, but he doesn't trust himself to keep his balance with a single leg alone. After pulling the pants up and settling the elastic waist around his midriff, Ossanlin stands straight again, re-crossing his arms over his chest. Confidence, confidence, confidence. He nods to "Xevec," still remaining silent. Keslin would know how best to answer the questions lingering within the other controllers' eyes. Ossanlin, himself, would not speak unless addressed directly, as had been the case with Claxter.
-
Keshin listens to the elder Andalite's explanation on morphing technology, and how the military has come to rely on what the scientist seems to think of as second-rate alchemy. He can't really blame the guy, given his profession, but he's far more interested in the bitter and twisted response of the younger Andalite. What was his name? It was always so difficult to tell one of these people apart from another.
"Wait," Keshin says in as strong a voice as he can manage out of Joanne, holding out his hand in a "Stop" position. "I want to walk with you, if you don't mind a Yeerk beside you. We're no longer part of the Empire because I couldn't bear what twisted bureaucrats would do with my host if they found out about our...problem. In the name of power. We might not be so different..Andalite ."
Even Keshin had little idea of why he was doing what he was doing here. Perhaps it was just interesting to him that one of this wretched, arrogant little race thought in much the same way as he did, several years ago.
-
Nefitt frowns at Ossanlin's awkwardness in clothing himself, but he steps back, giving the stranger space and looking to Farrah for further instructions.
"Xevec, Nefitt, it's good to see you. Kevin as well," Keslin says with a smile. "Farrah, how is Isren holding up?"
"She's been quiet since the attacks," Farrah says, her smile sad. "We all lost quite a few people. Keslin...we haven't been able to locate Sam and Kalnath. Or Issid or Miles or..." She trails off, a spasm of grief crossing her expression.
Keslin doesn't let his own emotion show, though a wave of hopelessness hits Chris in their shared mind. "Who do you have?" he asks quietly.
"Those of us here, on this ship. Dan and Haviss. Firin and Rythil. A few others. Not many, though. Not enough."
Keslin nods. "That's alright. There are other rendezvous points and our people are strong. The other survivors will find us." He lets out a low breath. "For now, let's deal with what we have. I want you to do a memory dump on me, Farrah. I need you to see firsthand what happened to us, and I don't want you doubting its authenticity."
Swallowing hard, Farrah nods, going over to one of the compartments to retrieve the probes. "Who are your friends?" she asks, glancing back at the two men curiously.
"That's one of the things I think you should see the memory dump before I explain," Keslin says levelly. "Please, Farrah. It will be easier this way."
Farrah hesitates, then nods, closing the distance between herself and Keslin, placing the edge of one of the sterilized probes at his ear. It seems to come to life, snaking its way into Chris' skull until it finds the Yeerk flesh stretched around his brain.
A holoscreen pops up, and Farrah widens it so that Xevec and Nefitt can see the events as they play out. As she interfaces directly with Keslin's memories, she brings them manually up through to his last days on base, followed by the enduring darkness and pain of capture, imprisoned within his cell, not knowing where he was or what happened to the people he loved. There is a long stretch of darkness during his imprisonment, contrasting with the sudden brightness of his return to Chris. The images slide along in fast forward; Keslin's realization that they are on an Andalite ship, his introduction to Ossanlin, the birth of his children, the death of one, and the tentative allegience that the surviving rebels have made with Ossanlin's crew. The memories slowly settle into the present, effectively revealing the identities of his two companions.
Nefitt watches the memories with a scrutinizing eye. As soon as he realizes that Andalites are involved he jerks physically, his hand going straight to his holster and pulling his Dracon.
"Andalites," he hisses, bringing the weapon to bear on Ossanlin. He does not pull the trigger, but he does draw a bead on the morphed Andalite's chest.
-
Ossanlin watches the memories play back and admits that the Yeerks' technology in this area out-strips that of the Andalites. The images are pure, perfect visual representations, much like playing back a video-file on a computer. Ossanlin takes a deep breath as he sees the injuries his morphed body had sustained from the chemical shower...he hadn't realized the burns had been that extensive, or that bad. Otherwise, he watches with an impassive eye until the images resolve to the present.
His eyes jerk over to Nefitt as he draws and levels his weapon. He returns the Yeerk's gaze calmly. He resolves to use normal speech to try and soothe the Yeerk. "We are no threat to you. We are unarmed, per your requirements. Our human bodies have no natural defenses besides fists and...feet. Those are easily nullified by your possession of Dracon weapons. You would be able to shoot us both long before either of us could demorph, so do you really feel it's necessary to hold your weapon to bear?"
Ossanlin looks around at all the Yeerks. "Yes, I am Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel. An andalite, and not your enemy. If I may have your assurances that you will not harm myself or my Command Warrior, I will submit myself for one of your memory probes if you doubt my word."
-
"You have got to be ****ting me!" Xevec said, looking back and forth between Keslin and the Andalites in morph, as if he can't decide who to direct his fury at first. "You got captured by a group of Andalites, removed from that place by a different group of andalites, and LED THEM RIGHT TO US!?"
<<Calm down Xevec.>> Derrel said.
<<Calm down? Give me one good reason I should be anywhere close to calm!>>
<<Because I know this guy. From the bar. He's the guy that helped Terenia.>>
<<So what?>>
<<So, this is an Andalite, who met someone who held an involuntary Andalite host, who has an abrasive personality to say the least, and HELPED her instead of starving her out.>>
Xevec stood and fumed a bit, as he forced himself to use his indoor voice. "What made you think this was a good idea, Keslin? Obviously they're not attacking us right now, but that's because they expect us to file into their ship like little sheep to be carted off back to Corvis or who knows where."
He looked at Ossanlin. "My host, Derrel, wants me to give you a shot, since he says he knows you. You bet you're getting scanned."
Claxter considered demorphing, now that everyone knew the truth, but felt that might incite Xevec or the others. Unless he saw his Prince demorph, he's try to keep practicing that true bravery Ossanlin spoke of and stay Human. He moved between Ossanlin and Neffit. Not that it would help much.
-
"I didn't think it was a good idea, Xevec," Keslin says, wincing a little as the memory probes snake their way out of Chris' head. "It was our only option. It is our only option, for right now."
Nefitt squares his shoulders, eyes narrowed at Ossanlin, nodding in agreement with Xevec. "The Andalites destroyed everything we had, everything you helped to build, Keslin. How do you know they aren't still using you?"
"I don't," Keslin admits. "They might very well be using all of us, but right now I'd rather be used than dead. Our people have been killed and hunted and tortured. We're scattered across the galaxy, and Ossanlin is offering us a place to regroup. Our Council is decimated, Nefitt. Myitt and I are the only ones left. We had to make a decision, and the Andalites can provide us with Kandrona and food and shelter until we figure out what to do."
Farrah, who has been silent during the exchange, looks up at this. "You and Myitt..." she echoes. "But surely Reven--?"
"No. Reven is dead," Keslin says, surprising himself with how steady he is able to keep his voice. "Corliss is missing. Tora is missing. Right now, what I need from you is patience, and a little bit of trust. Xevec, listen to Derrel. Nefitt, please lower your weapon."
It is with gritted teeth and shaking hands that Nefitt shoves his weapon into his holster, folding his arms across his chest and continuing to glare. "If you are leading us into a trap, Keslin, you will pay for it."
"I understand," Keslin says placatingly. "For now, why don't you run a memory dump on Ossanlin and Claxter. They only have so much time in their human forms."
<<And I'm fairly sure that if they tried to demorph here either Xevec or Nefitt would kill them before they got halfway through,>> Keslin adds silently to Chris.
"Memory dump. Right," Farrah says, blinking out of a trance. Her eyes had gone blank, lost in some internal conversation with Isrean. "Um..." She frowns at the two Andalites. "Which of you would like to go first?" She asks the question with exaggerated politeness, smiling a little anxiously.
<<So far so good, eh?>> Chris says. <<Could be worse. Xevec's always been a bit of a loose cannon, and Nefitt isn't the sort to disobey orders, even if he doesn't agree with them.>>
<<We will see.>>
-
Ossanlin glances around at the Yeerks. "If your assurances are given, I will volunteer myself. I am the driving force behind the Andalites here. While they have followed the path that I have set for their own reasons, a portion of their reasoning is in the following. I believe you will glean more of what you want from me." He uncrosses his arms and pats Claxter's shoulder, stepping past him toward Farah. As a human, he is not terribly imposing...halfway between Tara and Mike's height with straight black shoulder-length hair, blue eyes (likely from his Silver Blade exposure which seems to permeate him in cross-dimensional ways), and a frame that might be called "lithe," but not muscular.
He makes eye-contact with Farah, switching to conversational thought-speech. <I expect to emerge from this process in the same condition in which I am entering into it, and in a timely manner. At the least, you will see the difference between myself and those of my species whom decimated you.> He crosses his arms over his chest again, presenting himself to Farrah
-
"I still don't like it." Xevec said. He couldn't really think of another option besides what Keslin had done. It's not like they knew where this Corvis place was, or even how to get them out of a roaming dome ship. "I swear, if any of you guys sell us out to the Andalites I will take you with me. I did not join this group just so I could pal around with gr-Andalites mere months later." He said, keeping himself from saying grass eater. "At least if we're going, I'm taking my bugfighter with me."
<<You didn't really have much of a choice, after your imperial comrades betrayed you. I know these aren't our people, but they're in the same boat.>> Derrel said.
"They don't have a way to trick memory scans, do they?"
Claxter didn't relish having his memory scanned. It was already a tense situation. What if they noticed his...less than pleasant thoughts about Terenia? Back when he threatened to throw her in a cell if she threatened Efaen, he was really thinking he'd shred her to atoms. What if they glimpsed the memories of his first battle? He REALLY didn't want to relive that.
-
<Andalites are nothing like Yeerks,> Aetheas says sharply as he walks into the corridor. He pauses for a moment, then turns in the direction of the dome. <I would not object to company,> he says, his tone... possibly apologetic? His stalk-eyes sweep Joanne up and down, and he frowns. <What problem would cause the Empire to be upset with you?>
-
Keshin follows Aetheas, giving him a vaguely sympathetic smile. Or at least the best one he can come up with--- He's spent years in her head and she's still more natural at it than he is. Luckily the Andalite wasn't likely to care how socially apt he was.
Keshin raises Joanne's hand, pulling the tips of her fingers in slightly as if grasping something in midair or checking to see if his connection still works. "Upset? Mmm..." Keshin frowns, as if wondering how to describe this. "...more that I was upset with them, and preemptively left my country before it might damage my host. My host is a..a mutant, if you will. The mutation will end her life."
"If they had found out that the mutation had benefits as well as downsides, they would have ripped her apart to understand how it works and then left her to die. That's why."
-
<Mutation?> Aetheas echoes, giving Keshin a closer, more appraising look. He hasn't had time to read up on all of the rebels who've joined them, and this comes as news to him.
He makes a noise of bemused agreement when she describes what the Empire would do. <The Andalite government behaves similarly. They believe that no one is worth more than the greater good, and their definition of 'greater good' seems to change on a whim,> he gestures back towards the med-bay. <I am the other side of that problem. As a vecol, the Electorate would simply allow me to disappear if I didn't raise their attention.> He fixes her with a steady stare, <I still find it intriguing that you rebels apparently value your hosts' lives over the Empire, when so many of your brethren do not.>
-
Farrah nods slowly. "It will not hurt, and I won't...alter you," she says, giving him a hesitant smile. Her original shock at being in the presence of an Andalite is slowly giving way to fascination, though her expression remains pleasantly neutral. "I don't even know how, honestly. I'm a neuro-scientist, not a computer programmer. The memory technology is beyond me, save a simple dump and analysis."
<<Be careful,>> Isren warns silently, his own emotions towards the Andalite far more prickly, though he does not assert control. <<Andalites are notorious for their lies.>>
She approaches Ossanlin slowly, not wanting to alarm him. "If you'll allow me?" she asks, holding up the self-sterilizing probe, ready to insert it into his ear when he gives the go-ahead.
Nefitt glances over at Xevec. "I may be joining you on your fighter," he says flatly, having absolutely no desire to remain in the presence of the Andalites, allies or not. "You need someone to work weapons if things go badly."
Keslin shoots Nefitt a sharp look. "Nothing is going to go badly," he says. "We just need to stay calm and take things step by step. I promise you, this will be fine."
<<You sound pretty confident,>> Chris teases.
<<Someone has to,>> Keslin responds soberly, his eyes darting between the various members of the crew. With a slight grimace of distaste, he puts a hand on Claxter's shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "The memory scans are only tricked if your own memories have been previously altered," he says. "It's nothing to be concerned about. They won't be able to see everything at once, there's too much data. The only thing they'll be interested in right now is what happened from Corvus on."
<<Yeah, but we'll watch the whole thing later,>> Chris adds silently.
<<The Andalite doesn't need to know that,>> Keslin responds.
-
Xevec nodded in agreement with Neffit wanting to go in his ship. "I don't want to have to say I told you so from the next cell over if things go from bad to worse, Keslin. Or Derrel telling Chris that, because apparently I'd be shoved into a container just big enough to hold my body and a bit of liquid. Everyone on the ship should have been sent down here so we could talk privately amongst ourselves, without being watched. Ossanlin likely has something on him right now that lets those fighters hear everything we're saying. We will need that private conversation soon."
-
Ossanlin gestures at Farrah. "Go ahead." Ossanlin avoids flinching as he experiences the strange sensation of something creeping into his ear. He grits his human teeth, holding off his desire to rip the device out of his head by sheer willpower. It felt all too much like a Yeerk snaking its way into his brain. He does his best not to show his discomfort, but the emotive human face makes it difficult. He winces as the probe makes its way past the human ear-parts and inside his skull.
-
Farrah says nothing about the Andalite's obvious discomfort, busying herself with the holo-display that pops up once the probes fully connect to Ossanlin's temporarily human brain. "It won't take long," she promises and, out of the habit that comes with years of practiced bedside manner, she places a reassuring hand on his shoulder as the holoscreen begins scanning through Ossanlin's life at hyperspeed, downloading all of the data.
Keslin frowns at Xevec. "You're just going to have to trust me," he says, his voice losing some of its polite edge. "If you want to take your own ship, by all means do so, but right now I need your trust and your obedience, understood? Once all of us are together we can begin to discuss what to do."
-
"I know you're trying to do the right thing, Keslin. That I trust. You know I have a hard time trusting just about anyone after being betrayed back in the Empire, and one shock after another lately just leaves me on edge. I was just starting to settle down, you know? Get into the groove and not look over my shoulder as much, or sleep with a dracon in my hand. Now when we're all together on that ship, there's probably going to be more bugs in the room than an ant hill."
He watched the screen as the scan goes through Ossanlin's memories. "Looks like somebody's got a crush on that Andalite girl Efaen." He said, looking at Claxter.
"I do not understand your terminology, but I'm sure it is none of your business." Claxter said.
"Well I suppose if you have a beef with Terenia, it does kind of make it our business. I'm really not surprised at all. That girl is messed up, but if you look really really deep, you'll find that she at least tries to be a good person." Xevec said.
"She does not try hard enough." Claxter said.
-
"All of us have been hurt by the Empire, Xevec," Keslin says quietly, frowning as Ossanlin's memories flash over the screen. Most of them are too fast to recognize, but a few key moments in his life play out more visibly, including the more recent events.
The commentary between Xevec and Claxter only makes Keslin's grave expression intensify. "Efaen is more a danger to us than Terenia ever was. She murdered a good number of our people, if you remember, Xevec." He licks his lips, sighing internally. "Regardless, both of them are our allies for the time being."
<<Already the pettiness is starting,>> he comments to Chris. <<How are we possibly going to survive?>>
-
"I came to the base after the hot mess that was Efaen and Terenia. I'd rather not dredge up that old story again, but you people decided to keep her after her mind was wiped, so she's as much our responsibility as anyone's."
-
Ossanlin glances at Farrah's hand on his shoulder, but makes no comment as he continues to will himself to remain calm. His hands clench into fists, but his arms remain folded across his chest. He glances up at the holo-screen...there would be no taking this back. They weren't just looking at the events surrounding the time of the rebellion's destruction, they were looking at his whole life. Suddenly he feels naked in a totally different manner. All of his thoughts. Hopes, qualms, embarrassments...ou t there for all to see. He closes his eyes, shaking his head just slightly. He'd always felt memory dumps to be a personal violation in the extreme. They would see everything that he's ever been or wanted to be. His time under Yeerk control...his times as a Silver Blade at the bar. They would see his feelings for Alic...his human skin begins to blush. Some of those were rather indecent.
"Is this nearly done?" He does his best to remain stoic.
-
"Just a few moments more," Farrah says lightly, her fingers giving his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. The bits of his life that she can make out do not draw comment from her, and she watches impassively. Finally, the images wind down to the present and she swipes the screen away. The probes worm their way from Ossanlin's head.
"It doesn't prove anything," Nefitt says, still frowning. "Memory dumps show actions, not intentions or feelings. He may have acted to help us so far, but that doesn't mean that it isn't to betray us later. He could be trying to get us all in one place."
"Nefitt, you are more than welcome to stay here," Keslin says, raising his blonde eyebrows. "I know better than anyone that it is possible, while not preferable, to survive on one's own out here." His smile is grim. "But you only have so much food, and so much Kandrona. What will you do when it runs out? Die and leave Kevin to his own devices?"
That draws a physical flinch from Nefitt, whose eyes narrow. A muscle in his jaw twitches, but he relents. Clearly Keslin has struck a chord. "I'll follow," he says grimly. "But I obey Yeerk orders. Not Andalite orders."
"Understood," Keslin says levelly. "Last I checked, I was still a Yeerk."
Keslin smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "Claxter? Your turn."
-
"I'd like to know more about this." Xevec said. "I'm pretty sure I could win a contest for being the most paranoid Yeerk in the area, even when we were all together, but I don't want to take off on my own either."
Claxter took a deep breath, and walked forward. "You might want to abstain from viewing anything from before I arrived at the Bar." He said. Though it's possible that his first battle when he ran away wouldn't effect them as much, since they had already been through more.
The probes went in, and his own memories flashed in the screen. They showed the same Corvus assault from his view, and his own interactions. His feelings of happiness from knowing Efaen was back, and his anger at Terenia for the things she said. It showed him honestly considering killing her if she tried anything, and his attempts to reconnect with Efaen. It also ran through his lessons with Aetheas, standing at the helm of the ship, and his offer to Joanne. It also showed how he knew she had contact with someone outside the ship, and didn't take away the communicator. He was glad when it was done.
-
Ossanlin twitches his head as the probes are removed and takes a deep breath. He doesn't display the surprise on his face when the Yeerks comment that the memory dump would show nothing but actions. A relief, that. Perhaps their organic computing technology wasn't quite as advanced as he'd thought.
"Get you all in one place? Let's not forget that you all were in one place when the Electorate attacked you. I promise you, they no longer consider you a threat even in the slightest." He makes eye-contact with Nefitt, his eyes cold but intense, like a fire burning hot in the middle of a frozen lake. <I realize that you have experienced terrible losses at the tails of my kindred, but you of all people should realize that a being cannot be judged by the quality of his species. We, all of us aboard the Tyrennian, we all forsook our Homeworld. We gave up everything for this purpose. Because we all believe that Yeerks and Andalites can work together. The Rebellion was our best chance at proving that. That path to possible peace is worth the price.> Ossanlin pauses, his main eyes wandering, his tone of thought changing so that it sounds almost as if he's speaking to himself. <And I had a favor to repay...she spared me a life of torture long ago...I could not leave her to the same fate.>
His eyes return to Nefitt. <We all need each other.>
-
Farrah gives Claxter a small smile. "I'm sorry, but I have to take everything," she says apologetically. "It's protocol." She watches the screen as Claxter's life flickers by, confirming the events that Ossanlin's memories held. Once the transfer is finished, the probes slide out of Claxter's head and the holoscreen blinks off.
"Make a backup of both those files," Keslin says to Farrah. "I'll need access to them once I have a computer and a comm link again."
Farrah nods, moving over to one of the consoles to replace the memory probes.
Nefitt's lip twitches when Ossanlin begins using thought-speak, bristling at the mental invasion. "You will have to excuse me if I am not bowing down in thanks, Andalite," he says quietly. "Everyone here has given up everything. Our losses are no less painful than yours." He clears his throat a little, forcing the muscles in his shoulders to relax. "If your intentions are true, then your actions over the next few cycles will show it. In the meantime, I intend to err on the side of caution."
He turns away, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I'm going to get my supplies, Xevec. We can transfer them onto your ship before leaving."
Keslin watches Nefitt disappear into the back area of the ship with a slight sigh. "I don't think you can expect much more than that from him, Ossanlin," he murmurs. "Not right now, at least. It's better than I expected, honestly."
Forcing a smile, he looks up at Farrah. "Shall we proceed back to the Andalite vessel? I promise, it's far more spacious than any Skimmer."
Farrah nods. "I'll alert the other ships," she says.
Then her expression shifts, as Isren finally slips into control, having held back until the memory dumps were complete. She pulls away from the holoscreens that control the ship and goes over to Ossanlin, pausing a few steps in front of him, her expression caught somewhere between concerned and stern. She hesitates, watching his morphed face for a moment, then reaches out to take his hand. It is a gesture that is clearly repugnant to her, after years of propaganda against the Andalite people, but she smooths her expression out best she can, holding Ossanlin's gaze.
"I need you to promise me that these people will be cared for," Isren says, Farrah's quiet voice firm. "My human friends as well as my own people. I know what your memories say, but I need to hear it from you, genuinely. Promise me, Andalite. Oss--Ossanlin."
-
"Sure Neffit. Let's go." He followed Neffit, and grabbed some supplies for the ship. His bug already had everything he needed for himself, and also his supply of explosives as an explosives expert. When they made a trip to the bug, he talked to his friend without Andalites hearing.
"We're going to need some kind of contingency plan in case things go wrong. Even if Ossanlin is on the level, I saw that they're being chased by the Andalites from Corvus. I'm not really sure what we can do, but it's certainly not going to be just hoping nothing goes wrong. My contingency usually involve explosives at some point, though. Also if there's going to be a pool for us to feed in, we need to make sure only we have access to it somehow."
-
Ossanlin watches as Nefitt speaks, one eye quirking. As if he expects anyone to bow to him. He grimaces as Nefitt and Xevec leave, rubbing his own cheek for a second before speaking. "It is as it is. With Yeerks and with Andalites, many have trouble looking past an individual's species." He glances over at Keslin, his trust for the Yeerk growing somewhat, despite his words about 'having access' to Ossanlin's and Claxter's memories. "I'm certain we can overcome it...we just need time."
He shifts his eyes to Farrah as she approaches. The quality of her voice has somehow changed...so, this one allowed her human to have control sometimes. His expression softens as she takes his hand. He doesn't pull away. His eyes do widen in surprise, however, when she makes the comment regarding 'her human friends.' The human had been the one in control, and this softer personality was the Yeerk? Ossanlin mentally cuffs himself, why couldn't it be that way? He would not fall victim to specism.
"Forgive me, I do not know your name." Why has his voice softened? Command...confidenc e. But something about this Yeerk...she's obviously uncomfortable touching him, yet so concerned about the well-being of her people, that she seems almost vulnerable in spite of it. "I take care of those in my charge. And I consider everyone aboard the Tyrennian as my responsibility. Do not think that that means you cannot leave. I will not stop anyone from doing so, so long as the leaving is not going to harm the others in my charge. We have a few months worth of portable Kandrona generators, and the Tyrennian's Apix 2 Colliders are more than capable of running a more-permanent Kandrona source. We also have several months worth of human protein supplement, and the capacity to make more if need-be." He nods to Farrah and her Yeerk.
<You have my word that I will do everything within my power to care for everyone who places their trust and their faith in me.> He squeezes the human's hand. An odd gesture, yet one that seems somehow fitting for the situation.
-
Nefitt spends some time collecting his limited possessions. They do not amount to much. Several pairs of scrubs, a tube of toothpaste, his comm link and computer cube. And his Dracon, of course, holstered at his side. The last thing he grabs is a small, metal briefcase containing several portable Kandrona generators, nutrient packets, and his portable pool.
As one of the only rebels with his own pool, Nefitt makes a habit of feeding alone. He also makes a point to keep the pool close at hand at all times. As he steps onto Xevec's Bug Fighter, tethered to the underside of the Skimmer, it is this portable pool that he finds a home for first, sliding it into one of the compartments.
"I will use my pool to feed," Nefitt says quietly. "But I agree, it is important to ensure that any pools for public use are out of Andalite hands. Or at the very least have our own people acting as guards." He settles into the weapons chair, staring through the viewscreen. "A contingency plan is not a bad idea," he muses. "Do you have any ideas more specific than 'involves explosives'?"
"My name is Isren Two-One-Six," the Yeerk responds, giving Ossanlin a brief smile that fades quickly, concern clouding her expression. "I appreciate your word, Ossanlin," she says. "I hope you understand that I intend to hold you to it."
She returns the quick squeeze of his hand, then pulls away, seeming grateful to break the contact. Straightening, she smiles more briskly. "I'll alert the other ships. How long of a trip is it back to your vessel?"
She moves over to the main computer consoles and taps out a message to the surrounding, cloaked rebel ships.
Lock onto the Skimmer's tracking signal and follow. We will be approaching an Andalite vessel. Keep all weapons powered down unless you receive other orders. I have Keslin in tow and we will explain the situation in detail once we are all together. - Isren
<<And let's just hope the word 'Andalite' doesn't send everyone running,>> Farrah comments blandly.
-
"If we ever want to escape from the dome ship, we'll need a way to shut down the ship's weapons and engines, and ensure that we're not cut off from the hangers where the ships are. I'm not sure exactly what we'd need to do that, or where to get the supplies. I kind of wish I had my own pool, but I never got my hands on one."
"My Prince, will we be flying the old bug back to the Tyrennian?" Claxter asked.
-
Nefitt's eyes narrow briefly, then he shrugs. "You have never had any special need for one," he says flatly. "I require privacy when I feed, so the private pool was a prudent use of resources."
He stretches a little, splaying Kevin's long legs in front of him and sweeping his dreadlocks over one shoulder. "I suppose any contingency plan of that magnitude will have to wait until we understand the vessel we are going to. I have never been on an Andalite ship before. Regardless, I am no technician."
-
Ossanlin raises his eyebrows as the Yeerk breaks contact with him. Some hard steel under that veneer of vulnerability. He finds himself admiring this Isren somewhat. "I appreciate your willingness to share information with me." He glances over at Keslin before responding to her next question. "It is not far...perhaps twenty standard minutes at full-cruise. I will ask Keslin to provide the heading once we have boarded the bug-fighter once again. I do have tail-fighters patrolling at standard perimeter, I will instruct them to remain clear."
Ossanlin nods at Claxter before continuing. "I appreciate your willingness to give us a chance, Isren. Thank you." How bows slightly to Farrah before turning back toward the hatch to the bug-fighter.
<<Eleric, we will be returning soon, return to far perimeter and keep your distance from the rebel vessels. We don't want to spook them.>>
<<Tyrennian, make preparations to receive several craft in the abnormal hangars.>>
He turns back to Isren at the hatch. "How many craft should I expect to see?"
-
Eleric arches an eyebrow at Ossanlin's orders. More Yeerks...more worries. But it was true, the Tyrennian simply could not maintain itself with such a short-handed crew. If the rebels were the ones who could fill that void...well it was imperfect, but nothing would be perfect out here.
<Lightning-Strike, return to far perimeter patrol. Keep clear of incoming craft, Prince's orders.> Eleric fires his fighter around in a wide, sweeping arc, tail-sliding a bit for the fun of it. His squadron-mates follow suit as they burn toward the opposite side of the patrol perimeter.
-
Firin whistles through Rythil's teeth. Andalites...very interesting indeed.
<<Andalites! ANDALITES! I'll tear them apart, I'll rip them to shreds!>> Rythil rages in the background, trying to seize control.
Firin clamps down as he's had to do so often lately. <<Stop, Rythil. You wouldn't harm an insect.>>
<<You underestimate the power of anger.>>
<<I underestimate nothing, Rythil. Calm your emotions and think logically for a moment.>> Firin admits his own gut reaction had been...negative. The uninfested "companions" Keslin had spoken of must've been morphed Andalites. No wonder he'd been so vague. And yet, he'd watched the ships conjoin...had monitored the vital signals. Isren would not have allowed the Andalites onboard unless they had been unarmed. That did not speak of aggression, unless of course the commander of this vessel had a particularly ruthless streak when it came to his own Warriors.
And there would've been a mandatory memory dump...hard to fake one of those, though it could be done given the correct...skills. And after all of that, Isren had sent a communique saying that they would be approaching the Andalite vessel. Which meant that both she and Keslin must have found a modicum of trust in their guests. Keslin might've been under duress...unlikely yet possible. But Isren would not have been. Unless Keslin was hostage of course. But that didn't add up either.
Could the Andalites be after cooperation? That seemed terribly unlikely, but certainly a possibility. Rythil's body nearly shivers in response to Firin's excitement at seeing an Andalite vessel up close and under friendly, or at least non-hostile, conditions. The technology...to dig into it...Firin clamps down on his thoughts. Emotional responses were not logical. Logic dictates that the group represents safety and survival. When it comes down to it, there really is no choice. If the group would be gravitating toward the Andalite vessel, Firin would follow.
Firin deactivates the cloak on his bug and flies forward slowly, approaching the aft side of the Skimmer. He sends a general-band message to the Skimmer. "I hope you know what you're doing...the both of you." His comment directed at Isren and Keslin.
-
Xevec almost hoped that Neffit would have invited him to share the pool, but his friend's need for privacy was pretty well known. Xevec certainly wouldn't push the topic. "We'll just have to keep our guard up, and see what we can do. I'm looking forward to seeing Illim and Daniel again. It's great that they're ok." He started the procedure to take off and follow the Skimmer to the Tyrennian.
Claxter followed his Prince into the bug, and stood by to take whichever seat Ossanlin didn't take.
-
"I suppose we'll find out," Isren responds, smiling thinly, even though Firin cannot see. She waits until the other ships have confirmed their approach, each with their own reservations, then turns to Keslin.
"We'll follow you," she reports. "Kandrona help us."
Keslin smiles a little. "It'll be alright, Isren. Trust me." Pushing away from the wall, he steps back over to the Bug Fighter he arrived in. "Things are going to turn around for us. I promise."
<<Don't make promises you can't keep, man,>> Chris warns as they step onto the Bug Fighter, leaving Farrah and Isren alone to navigate the Skimmer.
Nefitt grunts noncommittally. "I do not know either of them well, beyond the time they have spent in the hospital. Illim's brashness is concerning, though."
He keeps his eyes on the viewscreen, rather than looking at Xevec. One finger tugs at a loose dreadlock, spinning it and twisting it in an old nervous habit.
On one of the drifting Bug Fighters, a fourteen year-old girl is eying the incoming communication doubtfully. "What do you think?" she asks the woman sitting next to her.
"I don't know, Edith," the woman murmurs, reaching up to adjust her head scarf. "Farrah and Isren are usually thorough about these things."
Edith is about to respond, but she is interrupted by a scowling, male voice. "Don't you think it's likely that they've been compromised by the Andalites?" The man's eyebrows raise. "We shouldn't be following them, Valerie. We should be getting the hell away."
"What if your sister is there, Dan?" Valerie asks. "Or Miles?"
That makes the man flinch, but the scowl never leaves his face. "Miles is dead," he says flatly. "So is Teresa. As far as I'm concerned, they're all dead, and we're walking into a goddamn trap."
"But Keslin isn't dead," Edith points out. "He's on their ship, with Chris. He says that there are others alive. We can't just leave them, can we?"
"No, of course not," Valerie responds, placing a gentle hand on Edith's shoulder. "We'll follow at a safe distance."
Dan's scowl deepens. "Fine," he mutters, throwing himself into one of the few available seats on the crowded fighter. "But when they string us up and torture us don't come crying to me."
With a soft sigh, Valerie turns away, her attention returning to the viewscreen. "Edith, set a course for the Skimmer," she say quietly.
"On it," Edith chirps, entering in the coordinates. Then she opens a communication to the Skimmer. "Farrah, it's Edith. We're on your tail. Just tell us where to go!"
-
Ossanlin nods to Keslin as the controller walks by. He furrows his brow. "It would help immensely if I knew how many craft to prepare for...would you please inform me?" Ossanlin attempts to keep his voice level and open, despite having been completely ignored. What could he expect from people who'd been so wronged?
-
Keslin doesn't respond to Ossanlin until he is situated in the pilot's chair and has pulled the living metal restraints around him to prepare for detachment. Let the Andalite wait on me for once, he thinks quietly.
<<Ass,>> Chris comments, but there is amusement in his tone.
<<You weren't supposed to see that,>> Keslin muses, but he doesn't seem too miffed. He ensures that his straps are in place and then glances over at Ossanlin. "Farrah's initial reports indicate three ships. The Skimmer and two Bug Fighters," he says. "I do not expect to find more at this rendezvous."
-
Ossanlin's face twitches a bit before he resumes his own seat at the co-pilot's console. "So few." Ossanlin doesn't bother to amend his orders to the Tyrennian, they would have heard, and Eleric would keep his distance. "I suppose we can be assured of the same reception at every rendezvous point." Ossanlin watches the console as the ships seal and detach.
-
"My people have always been paranoid," Keslin says evenly. "The past few months have only reinforced that need. If you're expecting hugs of gratitude you'll be sorely disappointed, I'm afraid."
He keeps control of the helm, separating the two ships with practiced ease and beginning to retrace their steps towards the Tyrennian. Behind them, the Skimmer remains uncloaked, following at a safe distance.
The transmission array beeps with an inbound transmission. This one is text only, and Keslin's eyes scan over it quickly, reading the Yeerkish. "Final count, including those we already met, is five infested humans, one free human, and one infested Hork-Bajir. There are four total ships, since Xevec and Nefitt decided to arrive separately. One Skimmer and three Bug Fighters," Keslin reports.
-
"I certainly did not expect gratitude, however I would much prefer to avoid that...troublesome. ..neural invasion in the future. I suppose it's gone better than I could've hoped, all things considered." Ossanlin watches through the front viewer as the aged bug makes its way back toward the Tyrennian. "Seven is seven more than we had before."
<<Tyrennian, prepare accordingly. We have five ships inbound, including this one. We will need quarters for six humans and one Hork-Bajir.>> That would be interesting...but they'd grabbed Hork-Bajir supplement along with the human supplement. Not much...but bless Enorryma for thinking of it. It would feed a single Hork-Bajir for a few months at least.
Ossanlin then commands his communicator to swap to a private link with Esarvit. <<Esarvit, what is Prince Commander Enorryma's present condition?>>
*
Esarvit begins the preparation procedures, delegating the according responsibilities before his personal communicator beeps. He opens the private channel with Ossanlin, listening intently. <<I am sorry to say, Captain, that at Varekil's last report, Enorryma had been placed into stasis. He says it was...Stim Syndrome. It will be months if not years before the damage can be fully repaired.>>
*
<<Yaolin...>> Ossanlin shakes his human head a bit. <<Thank you. Have Serid land to assist with security.>> He switches his communicator back to the broad-Tyrennian frequency it had been on during the rest of the trip. He says nothing vocally, his mind racing. Enorryma had been one of his best assets, not to mention an invaluable friend and officer. It would be impossible to replace her...but he begins working out who might have the potential to fill the giant void left by her absence.
-
<<You cannot be serious. Firin...>>
<<You know perfectly well how serious I am. Neither of us will last a week out here on our own.>>
<<They'll kill you! They'll...they'll kill me too. They killed my entire race and they want to kill yours...they're genocidal maniacs!>>
Firin moves his bug into formation behind the Skimmer, staying close. <<Do you really think they'd go to all this trouble just to kill us? You're smarter than this, Rythil...tamp down your emotions, you've been letting them control your mind far too often of late.>>
Rythil doesn't respond as Firin follows the Skimmer. Slowly, near one of the larger planetoids in this small asteroid field, the giant Mark III Dome Ship comes into view. All black and silver lines with a crystalline dome, Firin can't help but be somewhat impressed. The Mark III showed just how well Andalites could trim out the fat. They'd sliced off the weaknesses of the Mark II Dome Ship (namely it's slow, lumbering speed and inability to use primary weaponry without detaching a part of itself), and improved the ship's flexibility. This wasn't a ship built for exploration, but for war.
<<Firin...come on, we can still run. We can go to one of the other rendezvous points!>>
<<The Andalites were guided to this point, Rythil...they will visit the others. And we may not find anyone at the others in any case. We are boarding that Dome Ship. Make peace with it.>>
Firin keeps his excitement closely-leashed and blocked. But what he wouldn't do to dig into that ship's engineering room...
-
"You won't be exposed to the memory probes again," Keslin says quietly. "They're on file and stored in our database. If anyone else questions your motives, we can show them the recording instead of initiating a new probe." He keeps his eyes on the viewscreen as the Tyrennian comes into view, sighing a little.
<<Somehow, I don't think I will ever see that place as home,>> he comments to Chris dryly.
<<It isn't,>> Chris agrees. <<It's a damn refugee shelter, nothing more. But it's what we've got.>>
Nefitt's fingers tighten on the arms of his chair when the Tyrennian comes into view, and he glances over at Xevec. "I recommend we keep our Dracons close at hand," he murmurs. "I do not foresee this going well."
<<Now that is a ship,>> Isren murmurs. Farrah nods, her eyes widening a little as she takes in the Tyrennian.
"I've never seen anything that big," she whispers.
<<You have never had the luxury of spending time aboard a Yeerk Pool Ship,>> Isren responds dryly. <<Though they are far more cumbersome than this vessel appears.>>
<<It's impressive,>> Farrah agrees, switching to internal dialogue. <<But I'm more interested in the people on board. I haven't had a chance to study any live Andalites. Just holoscreens.>>
Valerie is silent, her ship trailing behind the others. One hand reaches over, finding Edith's shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze. The young girl, easily the youngest of the surviving rebels, is staring at the ship wide-eyed, bouncing slightly in her chair, barely able to contain her eagerness.
"How big is it?" she asks. "How many people on board? Are they all Andalite warriors, or are there civilians too? Do you think that glass part is really like the Andalite Homeworld? Tora's told me so much about it, but I've only seen one or two holograms and those just aren't the same."
"Edith," Dan snaps from his back seat. "Shut. Up."
Valerie makes a small tsking noise, frowning over her shoulder at Dan. "You will have answers to all your questions and more soon, Edith," she promises. "Dan, I know it's difficult, but try not to make enemies of these people. We need allies."
"They've already made enemies of us," Dan responds tartly. "I didn't have to do a damn thing."
-
"You don't have to tell me twice." Xevec tried some controlled breathing to help with tension. "I don't want to be the one that starts a fight, but I don't want to be caught off guard either."
-
Ossanlin feels some relief as the bug glides toward the Tyrennian. He's done a masterful job of hiding his discomfort at the small, enclosed spaces...somehow it felt tighter and more-oppressive even than a Tail Fighter ****pit. The high ceilings and wide hallways would feel much better...not to mention his own form, his swords, his field equipment. He feels absolutely naked without it all, though he shows none of it, instead putting forth a practiced show of confidence. It comes second nature anymore.
"I am...happy...to hear that. I suppose I've shared everything with you now. My whole life from beginning to present on record for the personal perusal of anyone with access to the appropriate data-file." Ossanlin's face makes a slightly unpleasant expression, as if he's tasted something foul. His feeling of personal invasion is much stronger than the mildly-unpleasant facial expression would lead one to believe. He itches to get out of his human skin, but controls his breathing as the bug approaches the translucent shield-door at the edge of the starboard upper irregular hangar.
"Pull forward as far as you can. The other three bugs may join us in this bay, the Skimmer will have to use the port bay."
-
Firin follows the Skimmer up to the massive ship. Logic dictates that this must be an attempt at some sort of peaceful arrangement. He tries not to think about the alternatives. The many many negative alternatives...no. Further information is needed before making any assumptions. He feels Rythil's feelings of anger give way partially to those of fear. Not for himself...no his soft Hork-Bajir companion is worried for the others, and for Firin himself.
<<Calm yourself, this will be well.>>
<<You have absolutely no way of knowing how this will be.>>
<<True, though logical probabilities do favor an acceptable outcome.>>
<<Yeah? Well I have a bad feeling.>>
<<Those are the only feelings you've had of late.>>
<<...>>
-
Eleric watches the Yeerk ships approach and begin docking with the Tyrennian from a distance. <Alright Lightning-strike, lets do one more perimeter and bring it in.> His Tail Fighter curves through space in a gentle, graceful arc, lancing back toward the Tyrennian at cruising speed for a flyby before the final perimeter sweep.
-
<<Well I for one am kind of looking forward to seeing what a dome ship looks like. Though this ship doesn't really fit the hologram I saw of one before.>> Derrel said.
<<This must be a new model. Less tree-ish, and more practical. If one of the steps for being battle ready requires you to separate one part of the ship from the other, it's probably not a good design.>>
He followed Keslin's bug into the hanger. "Well, the sheep are in the stable. Watch out for shears."
-
Keshin laughs at Aetheas' appraising look. "It's not the sort of mutation that would show on the outside of her body. If you looked with a diagnostics machine though, you'd see it. Well, if you were familiar with human anatomy. Strained organs. Peculiar cellular structure. It....it makes her very, very fast for a human. And breaks her heart."
Keshin glances down sharply, as if he'd said too much. He probably had--- He had little reason to be talking to this Andalite. But the alien's worn-down, awkward demeanor reminded him much of his own host. He listens to the Andalite's discussion of vecols carefully, trying to repress a slightly superior smirk. Although the Yeerks did away with many who they could not fix, it was not out of such outdated racial bigotry.
"You're unlucky, then," states Keshin with a shrug. "And have been your entire life. Why stay in a place that does not appreciate you? Lack of resources?"
-
Keslin nods, sending Farrah the information that she needs to park the Skimmer before turning to the task of docking himself.
He guides the Bug Fighter into the ship, checking his holoscreen to ensure that the other fighters are still on course to follow. Landing first, he orders the ship to power down, tugging the living metal restraints off of him and standing before the landing struts are fully extended.
"I want to be out of the ship before they disembark," Keslin says tersely, opening the compartment and restrapping his Dracon around him. "They need to see a friendly face." He eyes Ossanlin and Claxter in turn. "If you must demorph, please do so in the ship. I don't want to subject my people to any more stress than necessary.
"Steady, Edith," Valerie instructs, watching as she mans the main controls. "You're getting better at this."
"It's not hard," Edith protests. "Except the landing bit. That's a little hard."
"You're doing fine," Valerie says gently.
"Until you kill us all," Dan intones from his seat. His scowl is interrupted by a cringe as the ship touches down a little roughly, his knuckles turning white on the arms of his chair. "Jesus ****ing Christ, I wasn't serious!" he snaps.
"Ignore him," Valerie mutters, shooting Dan a glare. "Come on, let's go say hello to Keslin. I'm eager to hear what he has to say."
-
Ossanlin gives Keslin an even look before speaking. "As much as I would enjoy having my own body back, it might be prudent for me to remain in morph for the time being. Unless you wish to have your shirt back immediately." Ossanlin attempts a human smile, his eyes curving up, though the corners of his mouth don't come up as much as they should...resulting in a somewhat creepy, deformed type of smile. Of course, if he'd merely not thought about it, the human body would've done it correctly.
He glances at the compartment before pulling his uniform belt out and donning it over the pants and shirt, which looks somewhat awkward, but works well enough. He pulls his Shredders out of the compartment as well, placing them in their holsters. He grabs Claxter's Shredder and holds it out to him. <You may do as you wish, Command Warrior. But if you are going to demorph, please acquiesce to Keslin's request and do so within the confines of this ship.>
Ossanlin moves to the door of the bug which had melted open at Keslin's commands, and strides out, taking a deep breath. It's still recycled atmosphere of course, but the hangar feels so nice and open compared to the small Yeerk vessel. He turns to watch the other Bug Fighters attend to their own landing procedures, and glances between the large struts separating the two sides of the irregular hangar, looking down a level over the safety rail at the Skimmer as it lands in the larger side of the hangar down below.
He turns his attention back to the bugs and waits patiently. He doesn't know exactly what Keslin's plans are, but he feels that the Yeerk should be the first to speak.
-
Firin breaks off from the Skimmer and follows Keslin's bug into the hangar, trepidation mixed with excitement. He senses only anger and fear from Rythil.
<<Please calm yourself, Rythil.>>
<<...>>
He lands the ship slowly inside the hangar. To see a Dreadnaught Dome Ship from the inside, and not from a cell...who would've thought it possible? He takes a few deep breaths before commanding the hatch of his little bug open.
<<What about our things?!>>
<<They will be cared for, Rythil.>>
The Hork-Bajir falls silent again as Firin debarks. He looks all around the brightly-lit chrome and pearl-white hangar. "Call me dapsen" He whispers almost to himself. It takes him a few moments to realize that Rythil has calmed a bit...not much, but a bit. The atmosphere...it seemed cleaner, more fragrant somehow...fresh. How the Andalites had managed that...well they'd managed it pretty well themselves at the asteroid base, but the base wasn't a ship. He takes in another sharp breath as he realizes that the hangar bays continue on along the underbelly of the ship...seventy-six individual quick-launch bays staggered along each wall and stacked two stories high with a huge open space in the middle...the bay seems huge.
He glances over and watches the Skimmer landing a story down off to the side, before glancing around again. Rythil's mouth nearly salivates with Firin's hunger to devour every scrap of technology his eyes land upon. Thank the pools for his eidetic memory.
-
<Thank you, my Prince.> Claxter says as he takes his shredder. He does demorph in the ship, feeling more calm and in control with every change, and enjoying the feeling of his tail sprouting out and over his shoulders. When he is done, he steps out into the hangar.
Xevec exits the ship after the landing, dracon, extra fuel cells, and hidden grenades on his person. He's as ready as he can be. He unconsciously drifts towards Rythil after he sees the Hork-Bajir as he walks across the hangar.
-
Nefitt follows Xevec, his own hand resting on the holster of his Dracon as he steps off the parked Bug Fighter. In his other hand is his briefcase, complete with portable pool, nutrient packets and his personal Kandrona supply. His host's dark eyes take in the massive docking bay, expression remaining unreadable.
Quietly, he steps up beside Xevec. "Large," he murmurs. "We should learn this ship quickly, as well as those docked within it." His gaze falls on the fighters that are currently unoccupied, docked neatly. "As long as this place is a mystery, we are at a disadvantage."
Farrah maneuvers the Skimmer into the larger portion of the docking bay, the landing struts touching down and making the entire ship rock gently. As the ship powers down Isren takes control, moving through the ship and collecting Kandrona and nutrient packets, stowing as many as possible in a large messenger bag.
<<You think they're going to steal the Kandrona?>> Farrah asks, curious.
<<I don't know,>> Isren responds. <<But I would prefer to have rations on my person until I see that the Andalite is going to hold true to his word.>>
Once satisfied, Isren relinquishes control again, allowing Farrah to open the hatch and descend the ramp. Her eyes immediately search for familiar faces, and they land on the dark, messy dreadlocks of Nefitt's host first. Ordering the Skimmer's hatch closed and locked, she looks around for a way to the upper level.
Keslin stands at the base of the Bug Fighter, watching his people disembark.
<<So few,>> he comments sadly to Chris, focusing on the survivors, trying to ignore the tug of guilt that toys at him. He waits patiently until everyone is off of their various ships, hanging back a bit. Most of the surviving rebels seem to be giving him a bit of a wide berth too, looking around with nervous curiosity, waiting for Keslin to tell them what to do.
As soon as Farrah has made her way up to their level he clears his throat. "Thank you for following us here," he begins, giving a small, slightly lopsided smile.
"Where else would we have gone, Keslin?" Valerie asks, reaching up to tuck a wisp of dark hair beneath her head scarf. Her smile is gentle as she looks Chris up and down. "It is good to see you, my friend."
Her comment seems to ease some of the tension in Chris' shoulders, and Keslin nods. "Right. It's good to see you too. It's good to see all of you." He meets each of their eyes in turn, nodding at them. Even Dan, who only scowls and looks away, his brows furrowed suspiciously.
"The Andalites," Keslin continues, casting a glance towards Ossanlin, grateful for his decision to remain in human morph, "have cast a devastating blow on our people. All of our people, Yeerk, human and Hork-Bajir alike."
He pauses, taking in a breath. He's never been one for speeches, and the slight crimson flush at his neck betrays his nervousness. Resolving to keep it brief, he continues. "Many good people are dead. People we lived with, worked with. People we loved. But we are not all dead, and Kandrona knows we are fighters. Survivors. These Andalites here -- they are survivors as well. They have turned their backs on their own people for us. I'm not asking you to trust them, but I am asking you to do as you have done in the past and trust me. For now, at least, these Andalites are our only sanctuary. They can provide us food and shelter and Kandrona, and should we decide to find our own way they will not stop us."
He pauses again, his smile rueful. "All I can ask of you is your cooperation. But you have all earned the right to decide your own fates. I only hope that you choose to stand by me, and by our new allies."
-
Ossanlin stands off to the side and a bit back as he listens to Keslin speak. He notes Keslin's physiological reactions as those of general discomfort, but he overcomes it quickly. Leaders needed to be able to speak. They needed to have the power to rally and unite those under their command in even the direst of circumstances...Kes lin seems to fit the bill, at least partially.
He steps forward as Keslin falls silent, nodding at the small group of people. "I am Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel, Captain of this vessel, the Tyrennian. I know you've all been through yaolin and back these past weeks. Please accept the Tyrennian's hospitality, meager though it may be. We have human and Hork-Bajir nutritional supplement as well as kandrona and mineral packs. You will each be assigned personal quarters. You are not subject to my orders, not directly, and I would not merely expect obedience, however, do please realize that I have responsibilities to my crew and the Tyrennian as a whole. I ask that you do nothing to harm the Tyrennian or her crew as I will not hesitate to take any and all measures necessary to safeguard the Tyrennian and all who are aboard her."
He stands next to Keslin. His body shouldn't be physically impressive, being slightly shorter and a bit more slender than Keslin's host, but the way he holds himself with his demeanor and poise gives him presence and the appearance of strength. "Until such time as you are able to reconvene and elect leaders, I ask that you accept Myitt and Keslin as your leaders. I know that they have been leaders for you in the past, and...they have my trust." He glances at Keslin and gives him the slightest of nods. The trust is nowhere near as strong with him as it is with Myitt, but nevertheless, Keslin is the second Yeerk to earn Ossanlin's trust in even the smallest amount.
"Some of you may know of me, some may not. I have worked hand in hand with the Yeerk rebellion for years now...I'd like to see that cooperation continue, but that is all up to you." He nods to the group and gestures toward the catwalk along the side of the long hangar bay. "If you would all be so kind, I will guide you to the Dome so that you may rejoin the rest of your kin."
-
Firin breaks from his reverie as he sees Xevec approaching him. He mentally steels himself...in these sorts of situations, he'd normally give Rythil the helm, but given the Hork-Bajir's mental state, that isn't really an option. He'd have to navigate the social exchange on his own...a somewhat daunting task for him.
He raises a hand in greeting, nearly opening his mouth, but stops as Nefitt speaks up. He pauses awkwardly before speaking up. "My memory will easily keep track of the ship. There is a wealth of information here."
He falls silent as Keslin steps up to their little group...Farah and the others joining them from below by way of the large ramp. He listens to Keslin speak, nodding at the mention of seeing them all. Rythil stirs at the words about the Andalites, but otherwise remains quiescent. Firin nods to Keslin again as he finishes speaking, and turns his attention to the shorter humanoid as he speaks.
So this was the famed War-Prince Ossanlin. Interesting. Very interesting. He finds himself nodding along, the air of leadership around the humanoid almost palpable. As Ossanlin gestures along the catwalk, Firin glances at Xevec and Nefitt before looking to Keslin for guidance.
-
"We'll all work together." Xevec say reassuringly. He could tell Ossanlin was a leader. He wondered how much these other Andalites relied on him for orders, and if they'd be thrown into chaos if he was incapacitated. "Let's go check on the others."
<<You mind if I take over?>>
<<Fine.>>
Xevec let loose his control. Normally he let Derrel have control over his body at least half the time, though lately he's been too tense to let go. Derrel walked along more casually than Xevec had, taking in the sights as they were led to the Dome.
-
<<I don't know how much I enjoy being Ossanlin's sidekick,>> Keslin sighs quietly. He waits for the Andalite to finish speaking, then nods to the group, falling in step behind Ossanlin and gesturing for them to follow. His eyes do a final survey of the people that have survived, taking in their individual needs before he steps up to Ossanlin's side, murmuring to him quietly as they walk.
"Farrah and Isren are outstanding medics. Once they have quarters I will be asking for them to take a look at Tess and James, but following that they should be taken to your medical facilities and given free reign. I promise you, you will not be disappointed." His eyes flicker over to Ossanlin briefly, then back to the hall. "Nefitt is also a promising medic, though his expertise is in rehabilitation." Letting out a slow breath, he lowers his voice still further. "Nefitt will also require quarters that are private and...and relatively soundproof. Away from the rest of the crew, if you can manage."
Edith hangs back from the rest of the group, her eyes wide as she takes in the docking bay. It is only when she sees Claxter that she is moved into action, letting out a quiet, excited squeal. As opposed to the rest of the crew, she doesn't seem nervous to be surrounded by Andalites and Andalite technology.
"Hello," she says, a little shyly, her eyes trailing down the Andalite's body. "Are you a War-Prince?"
-
Claxter's stalk eye catches one of the Humans looking at him, and asks him a question. She reminded him of Aya, a rebel who nonetheless wasn't put off by Andalites. <I am Command Warrior Claxter Karmesh Sinopul. It's a rank above Warrior, and a bit below War Prince. What is your name, and possible rank?>
Xevec felt like rolling his eyes at Edith's excitement, but Derrel was in control. Instead an amused smile crossed his lips at both Edith and Xevec. Derrel felt like talking with Ossanlin, but didn't want to interrupt his conversation with Keslin. It might be best to talk without Xevec anyway, who was close to due for a feeding.
-
Claxter's question draws a small giggle from Edith. "I'm just Edith, no rank," she says, waving a hand dismissively and tossing a few dark curls over her shoulder. "Edith Reyes." She falls into step beside Claxter, her shorter legs requiring her to jog slightly to keep up.
The exercise doesn't seem to hamper her ability to speak, and a steady slew of questions accompany Claxter as they walk. "How do you get to become a Command Warrior? Is it hard? Do you have to specialize in anything? Tora -- she told me a lot about the Andalites, but I've never really met any besides her and Efaen."
-
Ossanlin listens to Keslin as they walk, nodding. "I will have to discuss it with Varekil. Right now he's the closest I have to a Medical Commander...the sick-bay will be in his hands. If your people are to have access to the facilities, they must understand that Varekil is in charge of the bay, at least for now. They would need to be willing to accept his authority. And his guidance, at least as far as operating the equipment goes."
He walks to the nearest spiraling ramp-well and starts to ascend, making his way to the Prime deck. He itches to check the med-bay...to see Enorryma for himself, but other matters are more-pressing. He furrows his brow as Keslin speaks of Nefitt's special needs. "It would be irresponsible of me if I did not ask why Nefitt would need such...accommodatio ns." He looks at Keslin questioningly and with a healthy dose of suspicion as they emerge from the ramp-well and start making their way down the Prime deck's wide central concourse toward the dome.
-
Firin makes careful note of the positions of everything in the docking bay. Obviously some of it was mobile and would be moved...there were a few Andalites working here right now, in fact. It looked to be routine maintenance of some sort or other. He nearly smiles as they enter the large ramp-well. Rythil had always felt confined in the asteroid base, but this felt much more open. He could look up the open central mass at the coiling ramp above him. Ten stories at least...perhaps more. It's hard to judge with each deck being so tall. Perhaps the openness would help to calm Rythil's opinions somewhat. Working on one of the paintings would help...though they'd lost the easel in the attack. He doesn't share that particular thought with his host as it would only upset the poor Hork-Bajir all over again.
As they pass each deck, Firin does his best to see as far as he can without seeming like it...memorizing everything he sees. Later he might be able to draw up a rough layout of the ship and perhaps garner its layout and some of its design from those memories. They emerge into a wide central concourse several decks up from the docking bay, and he continues to make note of every door and detail they pass on the way. Everything so clean and bright and open. He can almost forget he's on a space-ship...but that, of course, had been the idea behind the design in the first place. Andalites had a deep dislike of enclosed spaces...
-
<After reaching the rank of Warrior, we are eventually given more responsibilities to test our readiness to promote. A Command Warrior must show some ability to lead, hence the Command part of the rank. It's not highly difficult, but I needed to prove that I had respect enough for other Warriors to follow my leadership. It also entails training Arisths to help them become Warriors. I have begun training one now, and he's come along quite well on his own. I am not required to specialize, though I am in training to become the pilot of this ship under Prince Commander Ennoryma.>
<So you're friends with Tora? I've heard about her, and would like to know more. Efaen told me she was put under Tora for her indoctrination.>
-
Edith frowns, her open expression fading. "Efaen killed my mother," she says bluntly. "She should have been executed, but her memories were wiped instead. Tora wanted to make sure that the wiped version of Efaen still knew about Andalites." Edith doesn't quite sneer at this. Instead, she drops her gaze to the ramp, shrugging. "Tora is a good person. She helped raise me."
Keslin walks in silence for a few moments, glancing around to ensure that no one beyond Ossanlin is listening.
"Nefitt has a special relationship with his host," Keslin says in a low voice. "Prior to joining us, Nefitt was stationed on a Blade Ship, in the recovery ward. The humans he worked with were interrogation hosts." His lips compress together. "It's an unfortunately brutal practice of the Empire. They don't want to waste perfectly good hosts, so they select a few dozen humans from the streets and ship them up to the interrogation rooms. The Empire will reuse them for as long as possible. Nefitt's job was to manage their injuries after interrogation."
He raises his gaze to the ship at large, shrugging almost nonchalantly. "Kevin was one of those hosts. He is...not in his right mind, and understandably so. He was slated to be disposed of as a result of his repeated injuries and mental deterioration. Instead, Nefitt infested him and fled. But Kevin still does not fully understand, and Nefitt still needs to restrain him when he feeds."
-
<She really should never have been sent, but after committing her crime, she should have been turned in to her superior officer.> Claxter said. <I am sorry that Terenia convinced your leaders to let Efaen in. Efaen was in a damaged state from years of torture and enslavement. She needed proper rehabilitation before that sort of mission.>
<I don't know what would cause an Andalite to join the Yeerks, or even give up her natural form amongst them. It's a very strange thing.>
-
Edith's eyebrows raise. "Why is it strange?" she asks. "Tora wasn't treated well by the Andalites. They cast her aside just because her family had been dishonored. She didn't do anything wrong, and they still treated her badly. Besides, she loves James and Reven. She wanted to be with them." She shrugs. "I think it's sweet."
-
<It kind of breaks my image of what Andalites are, and how we behave. I guess I'm just still kind of young. Just the idea of falling in love at all is still a bit foreign to me, and Tora fell in love with someone who isn't even an Andalite? So much so that she nothlitized herself? That's quite a step ahead of where I am.>
-
Niko sits cross-legged by the curve of the lake, by a strand of trees that looked like asparagus.
The name for the big plants had escaped him, but not the name for how the lake curved forward, framed by those trees.
"Enos ermarf," he says aloud, smiling to himself. Probably butchered that.
Enos. The Greek word for a mortal man. That makes Niko's smile fade a little, and he picks idly at some of the blue grass beneath his black sneakers. His clothes smelled like grass. Blue jeans and a faded, baggy gray t-shirt. No logo. Nothing spectacular. Just clothing he had been able to wash in a small basin in his room. Some sort of detergent, clearly too strong for clothing.
Not meant for clothing. Andalites didn't really do clothing. Not for the first time, Niko wishes he had a book. Something, anything to occupy his time. He had made a start at learning some of the Andalite language, but it was still shaky and fragmented in the day he'd had to practice. He'd learned 'hello' and the names for a few of the trees and grasses. And, he marvels, the name for a thing that just didn't exist in English, or in Greek.
He shakes his head, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, wondering where his shipboard friends were--and when the rendezvous party would return.
-
Ossanlin's human face betrays him once again where his Andalite one would not. The look of disgust is restrained, but definitely present. "I have heard of the practice, though only through hearsay. Could not the Yeerk simply shut himself off from feeling the host's pain?" He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter, the poor human would still be tortured over and over." He nods a bit. Probably best to keep that bit of information back if possible. An involuntary host, whether insane or not, could threaten the tenuous peace between the Andalites and rebels aboard. "There are several open quarters in the Warriors' section. Arisths too, but there would likely not be enough room within those quarters. I'm afraid there is not much by way of sound-proofing though. The shields around the brig can sound-proof...though some might wonder why any of the rebels would wish to stay in the brig..."
He pauses as they reach the doors feeding into the dome, commanding them to open. The do so seamlessly and he steps onto the grass path that cuts straight through the middle of the structure. He notes several humans out and about in the dome, some looking rather bored. He turns to the newly-arrived and gestures with his hand. "This is the dome. The host supplement and kandrona supply rests with Myitt. For now, I ask that you voluntarily confine yourselves to the dome and quarters sections of the ship. My Warriors are transferring your personal effects to quarters as we speak, and you may retire at any time. The quarters have been adapted to accommodate human and hork-bajir functions. Do you have any questions for me?"
He pauses, waiting to see if anyone would speak up. He gives Keslin a quick glance. <<We must continue the discussion regarding Nefitt, but if you wish to visit your family with your medics, I'm sure that can wait a moment.>>
-
Firin takes in a sharp breath as they enter the dome. Incredible...an entire miniature eco-system in the middle of space. The stars are hidden by a projected hologram of the Andalite sky, and even the walls create the illusion of the landscape continuing on as far as the eye can see. There seems to be a small lake and river...of course, Andalites would be most comfortable drinking in that manner. A large open plain with a few Andalites galloping for exercise. And a forested area. He nearly grins as Rythil perks up a bit...he'd not had the chance to climb real trees in years.
Suddenly he feels Rythil's emotions spike, coupled by a very distinct yearning to turn his head back toward the lake. Firin does so, and has trouble containing his own response...Niko! One of the few humans he can have a dialogue with almost comfortably, as long as they discussed physics. Rythil tries very hard to run over to the human, but Firin clamps down.
<<We will greet him in a moment.>>
<<Are you kidding?!>>
<<We must attend to Keslin and the Prince. They may bring up important information.>>
<<We can hear it later!>>
<<No. We will wait until they are finished speaking.>>
-
<<I'd rather sleep in my ship.>> Xevec said.
<<Not sure he'll allow that.>>
<<Of course not. Those grass eaters want to watch and listen to us while we're trying to have some private time.>>
"Hey, uh, Mr. Ossanlin?" Derrel said. "This is Derrel, Xevec's partner. My friend would feel more comfortable if he was able to rest in his ship." His speech patterns and body language were considerably more casual and modest, showing it was a different person speaking.
<<What was that? I wanted you to tell that guy how it's gonna be. Not ask him pretty please.>>
<<Yeah, because I'm such a really big, scary guy. I'm in my thirties and I bench like sixty pounds.>>
"Also what do you have in the way of work? Any manual labor stuff?"
-
Aetheas's stalk eyes raise in surprise at Keshin's comment. <Where else would I go?> he asks. The idea that there was another option... he looks over Keshin again, beginning to understand what he really is, what his leaving the Empire has really meant. <I have never before considered the possibility,> he admits, then frowns. <I do not believe I would be any more appreciated outside of Andalite society.>
He closes all four eyes for a moment as he steps into the dome, enjoying the fresh breeze across his fur. When he looks again, he can't help but notice the few humans in the space. Really, the silly-looking aliens stood out amongst the grasses of the homeworld. And he with so much to learn about them.
<This mutation of your hosts's,> he says to Keshin, <does not sound... healthy. I understand why you'd hide it from the Empire, but is it not something our doctors might be able to reverse?> He speaks uncertainly, being unfamiliar with human physiology, attempting to choose words that will not be perceived as offensive.
-
"It is, but your Captain seems less-than-willing to trust me at the moment," says Keshin, stopping at the same moment as the Andalite at the edge of the dome. "The last time we met War-Prince Ossanlin, we nearly killed him."
The breeze blows across Joanne's face, and Keshin smiles naturally. The air around here was...decidedly unique, but it was getting to be breathable. He wondered dimly how the rebel meeting was going. The situation on the Tyrennian didn't seem like it was going to get any less awkward with more rebels onboard.
<'Ell, seems like it'll get more awkward. We dunno what half the problems of these guys are, or how many of 'em hate Andalites.>
<We'll have to wait until the group returns.>
"As for you...it seems as if your society is no less repressive than ours," says Keshin with a bit of a shrug. "There might be groups of people just outside it who hate the way it is now. But yes, you can't afford to take the chance there are none."
-
Ossanlin glances at the human male who'd spoken, his face still a mask of seriousness. "I assure you, the quarters we are providing for you will supply you with living necessities, as well as a few pleasantries, when compared with a fighter vessel. As for work...there is much to be done and not enough hands to do it, but you must understand that I have a responsibility to this ship and everyone aboard. I cannot allow anyone to have the potential to do harm to the vessel or those aboard unless I know without doubt that I can trust him."
-
<<Yeah, I'm sure it's got all kinds of neat stuff. Including a hidden camera.>> Xevec said.
<<Look, we'll search the place as well as we can, but I don't want to add friction by trying to sleep in the hangar. It's not like we can do much even if they try to trap us. We can't blast through the hangar door and escape.>>
<<Fine.>>
"Ok. That will be fine." Derrel said. He didn't know how Ossanlin planned to go about ensuring trust, but figured he'd have some idea shortly.
-
Edith shrugs a little. "Well, maybe you could learn something from Tora, then," she suggests. Her dark eyes brighten then, as a smile crosses her face. "And I bet I can learn a ton of cool things here. I've always wanted to see an Andalite ship." She is about to continue, but they reach the Dome and her attention is immediately pulled away, eyes going wide as she takes in the massive, self-contained ecosystem.
Keslin nods. "I will show Farrah to our room, but I think it would be prudent if I let her talk to Tess alone." His smile is a bit hesitant. "I am fairly sure that my presence is not wanted for such conversations. Once I return we can discuss my people in more detail." His glance takes in all of the surrounding rebels, lingering on Nefitt only a moment or two longer than the rest.
"Feel free to make yourselves comfortable," Keslin says, raising his voice to include all of them. "If you have any requests and are more comfortable speaking with me first, please do so. Myitt is around as well. For now, we're your points of contact.
Dan's narrowed gaze flits between Ossanlin and Keslin. A glance at the Dome as a whole reveals little reaction. "Who else is here?" he demands. "You, Myitt...who else? Who survived?"
Keslin's patient, professional smile fades a little. "Not as many as we'd like," he admits. "I'll send the full roster to your various comm links. If you want to know about anyone in particular, see me one on one."
That doesn't seem to encourage Dan, who simply rolls his eyes and mutters something profane under his breath. He turns and breaks away from the crowd, heading in the general direction of Niko, watching his feet instead of those around him.
Valerie sighs and gives Keslin a little shrug. "Thank you for everything Keslin. We'll make do. Edith? Your jaw is hanging open. Come with me, I want to find Myitt and go over the food supplies."
Keslin nods. "Farrah? If you'll come with me, I'll take you to see Tess. And our son."
Farrah's eyes light up. "Your son?" she breathes. "You mean she gave birth successfully? But--" The excitement fades a little as she takes in his full meaning. "Oh. Keslin--"
"I've lost one child already, I'd prefer not to lose a second," Keslin says evenly, his smile a little strained. "Come on, I know Tess will be happy to see you."
Nefitt hangs back, behind Xevec, watching with sharp eyes. He glances at Rythil at one point, frowning. "Firin," he murmurs. "If you have a moment, I would like to hear your opinions of this place."
-
<<Very well, I will be demorphing soon. Take your time.>>
___________________ ___________________ _______________
Firin listens to Derrel's question to Ossanlin. Of course they wouldn't allow people to sleep in the hangar...but Xevec had always been overly paranoid...even for a rebel. He feels a bit crestfallen when Ossanlin mentions trust....so much for being able to dig into the engineering of this technological symphony.
He's started out of his reverie by Nefitt's frank voice. He darts another glance at Niko before turning to Nefitt. "It's an unexpected turn of events, and there's no real way to know if this War-Prince is being truly genuine or not. But in the end it matters little. We really have no choice. The group is survival...the group is life." He glances at the morphed andalite once again, still speaking to Nefitt. "There are others here, and they seem to be in good health. If it's a trap, it's a very elaborate one indeed, and one beyond the scope of Andalites if I'm frank. Too much hassle. I'm inclined to believe the majority of what the Andalite is saying. Of course that doesn't mean everything is truthful, or that everything's been included in his admissions."
He falls silent for a few moments before realizing he should probably ask Nefitt back. "Do you have thoughts?"
-
Claxter was tempted to give Edith a tour, and continue speaking of Tora, but another rebel pulled her away to talk with Myitt. He stood in the dome for a minute, tasting some grass and feeling the openness compared to the ships from earlier. His thoughts drifted back to Efaen, wondering if she was in or near the dome. He also remembered Keshin saying someone had been taken to the medbay. He'd have to ask Aetheas about that the next time they talked. Other than that he just waited to see if Ossanlin still needed him for something.
Derrel started following Valerie to look for Myitt. He wanted to know where the pool was going to be, and where he'd be sleeping.
-
Niko stops picking at the blades of alien grass and glances over his shoulder at the small commotion.
His dark eyebrows raise curiously, and as the rendezvous survivors pour into the main Dome he finds himself climbing to his feet, idly brushing his jeans.
He has to shield his eyes from the artificial light--a motion that was still strange after so much time spent underground.
Several he recognized. Several others he did not. He spots Firin and Rythil, surprised at how familiar the big Hork-Bajir had become; he'd once, long ago, thought they were all very much one and the same.
Keslin. Farrah, Kevin and Nefitt. Edith, and even Dan...if anyone knew what had happened, surely they would?
He raises his hands in a broad wave, shouting, "Hey, what took you so long?" In spite of the churning feeling in his stomach, he can't help but smile.
-
<As near as I can tell,> Aetheas answers as he scans the dome with his main eyes, <In Yeerk society, splinter groups are all but inevitable. Our establishment is far older than yours, and far less prone to splintering.> As he says this, just a hint of pride turns his voice.
He catches sight of the new group of humans, and begins to wander towards them for a better look, but then stops in his tracks, all four eyes locked on Keshin. <You... nearly killed... Captain Ossanlin?> His mind reels at the implications of this. How could someone like this... a Yeerk... manage to be a threat to someone like the Captain? Moreover, what in the world could be going through the Captain's mind, to allow someone like this aboard the ship? Though he doesn't speak further, the alarm he feels shows clearly in his posture and his face.
-
Niko's voice causes a new emotion to well up within Rythil and overcome the anger and pain...joy...relief . Firin is so surprised by the mercurial and seismic shift that he looses his grip on Rythil's body and the hork-bajir's emotional response pushes him into control. He runs over to Niko and sweeps the human up into a big bear-hug, meticulous about the placement of his blades so as not to cause his friend harm.
"Niko! Oh I'm so glad to see you!" The human's scent is as he remembers it...faintly sweet and a bit spicy...but he can sense a deep pain as well. "Niko...is Yarin with you? Or...or Gene?" He scans the dome with his superior eyes, trying to make out the faces of everyone present.
___________________ ___________________ ___________
Ossanlin glances around at the gathered rebels, nodding. "Alright, please feel free to ask me or my crew any questions you may have in the future. For now, those of you who wish to see your quarters may follow Serid. If you desire to remain in the dome, make yourselves comfortable. If any of you require feeding, either host or controller, Myitt and Illim can show you where the supplement, mineral, and kandrona is kept. I have matters that require my attention elsewhere. Thank you all for placing your trust in me for now, I will do my best to make your decision a good one."
Ossanlin notices Aetheas and Keshin walking not far off. He sends a private thought to Claxter, Aetheas, and Keshin. <<Claxter, Aetheas, Keshin...please join me in the med-bay.>> He walks to the rear entrance of the dome and doffs his human clothes, handing them to Serid, who in turn hands him his swords and battle-sash. He proceeds into the dorsal hall and demorphs, regaining his Andalite body, and then dons the battle-sash and swords, readjusting his uniform belt appropriately.
He opens a quick communique with Varekil. <<I'm coming to see her.>> He closes out the communique and makes his way toward the med-bay.
-
Niko laughs as Rythiil bounds over, then his olive expression pales as it appears the big alien is not slowing down.
He tenses up for just a moment when Rythil's blades carefully envelope him, but he forces another, breathier laugh.
"You're a good reminder my heart is still working, you know that, Rythil?" Niko exhales, beaming. He swallows and sobers slightly. "It's...it's really good to see you. And Firin, I hope he's alright?" He peers, unconsciously, up at Rythil's forehead, then clears his throat.
"Ah...well. Yarin..." He clutches at his stomach, over the ragged t-shirt. "Yarin's...he's gone, Rythil. He...didn't make it." Niko's voice catches, and he pauses. "And Gene, I don't...I don't know where he is." He shrugs and a watery smile makes its way back onto his face. "I'm keeping my hopes up, you know. Can't keep them down?"
-
Rythil's expression turns crestfallen as the news of Yarin is broached. "Oh...Niko...I'm sorry. So sorry..." His expression shifts a bit. "I am...happy...to see you as well, Niko."
The emotion returns to his face again and he furrows his brow. "It may not seem like it...but he really is happy to see you. But...Yarin...he was in the pool then." Anger sweeps across his face. "Those damn blue-furs...they won't stop until the whole Galaxy is devoid of all life but them."
He reigns himself in again and lets Niko out of the vice-like hug, placing his hands on Niko's shoulders. "I'm sorry about Yarin, but Gene has to be out there. He is...I can feel it. There's no way the destruction of one little asteroid could keep you two apart." His voice hitches a bit at that. That little asteroid...it had been their home. The second one the Andalites had taken from Rythil. "You have to keep up hope...you have to. It's just as necessary as nutrients and water...you can't give up. I'd hate to never see that twinkle in your eye again." He smiles, somehow making it softer than most hork-bajir who attempt the expression. He's learned to make his smile slightly less frightening over the years.
-
Niko looks down at his sneakers, nodding weakly.
"Thanks, Rythil. Firin. Both of you," he murmurs, brushing at his eyes with a sigh, having to avoid Rythil's blades as he maneuvers his hands up to his cheeks. "You know Yarin would have appreciated it. And I know we'll...we'll do everything we can to find Gene and the people we're missing."
He raises his eyes to Rythil's, sniffling. "Who else came with you from the rendezvous? I saw quite a few of the med crew. Edith...I'm glad she's alright."
-
"Yes...Farah and Isren. Nefitt and Kevin. Xevec and Derrel. Edith, Valerie, Dan...that's all." Rythil's eyes pass through stages of sadness and anger before reverting to hopefulness. "But this is just one rendezvous...there are others! There will be more. If this...Andalite..." he says the word with disgust, "allows us to check the others."
"Who else is with you? What...what happened to you all? Which rendezvous were you at? Why in Father Deep are you on an Andalite ship?!" Rythil fires off the questions quickly, all of his misgivings coming forth.
-
Niko shakes his head, still brushing at red-rimmed eyes. "Uh, well," he starts, clearing his throat. "Keslin and Chris are here, and Tess as well, and...Dom and Myitt and Tara. Reyliss, she's...she was with Yarin, and....****, Rythil...it's like for all the good we've got there's another knife twisting into us."
He steadies himself with a breath. "Um. Lanath, he's here, he's with Aya. And Daniel and Illim, they're alright. Terenia." Niko gazes up at Rythil and Firin. "There are so few of us. And Tess, she lost one of her babies." He lowers his gaze to the grass again. "So much death, when there should be life."
-
Rythil nods at the mention of Keslin and Chris. He smiles as Tess's name comes up. "A family not separated...one small kindness." His eyes light up at the mention of Dom. Another friend, though not quite so close or dear as Niko and...and Yarin. His heart leaps a bit at the mention of Myitt and Tara...for all of their surly dispositions, they'd always seemed the most-approachable leaders within the rebellion to him...but Reyliss gone too. So many... Lanath with his age and wisdom would surely be indispensable in the times ahead, and Aya...such a bubbly girl, and not really off-put by his species as so many of the humans seemed to be. Daniel and Illim...another family not separated. Terenia, the human girl. He doesn't know her all that well...she'd never seemed very interested in speaking with him.
He brings a clawed hand to his beak-like mouth at the mention of the baby's passing. "Oh no...but...but that means at least one of them survived...so Chris and Keslin and Tess are parents. That's a joyful thing too!" He forces a sad smile, pulling Niko into a gentler, much briefer hug. He doesn't repeat his questions about rendezvous points or Andalite ships....Niko would tell him if and when he wanted to.
"No James or Reven then?" He glances around the dome again, but that red hair would stick out like a sore thumb if it were present...
-
Keshin turns around, noting Aetheas' shock, and the practiced all-business look of a turelek now crosses over his face. "Yes, Prince Ossanlin almost died in an altercation with us," states Keshin, stopping and standing stock still in the green of the Dome. "His injuries were not intentionally inflicted. He attempted to subdue us while we were following through on a job we were given."
"If you're wondering why the War-Prince would allow us onto the ship, it was by Myitt One-Nine-Five's choice," says Keshin, giving Aetheas a sideways glance. "We were inside the prison when you attacked it, as part of the same incident."
<Oh boy. Here we go into th' weird as **** social situation of how we know Myitt an' why we were on that place.>
<I'm going to avoid bringing up that issue if I can. It's unnecessary.>
<Well good. We don' need some blue brat involved in our business.>
<He could be useful. We have similarities, and a more sympathetic Andalite contact on the ship....>
<After we jus' said we nearly offed Ossanlin? Don' count on it.>
<You never know.>
-
Nefitt shrugs. "Much the same as yours," he murmurs. He doesn't continue the conversation, and watches blandly when Rythil hurries away to greet Niko. Finding it hard to show that much joy, he turns away, moving to find Farrah.
He tracks her down by Keslin, and stands back a little as they speak quietly. After a moment, Farrah looks up, taking note of him.
"Nefitt, come here," he says, urging him forward. "I'm going with Keslin to see Tess, and then to see the medical facilities here. Would you care to join me?"
"Actually," Keslin cuts in, a small flush darkening his cheeks. "I was hoping that Nefitt could accompany me. I wish to speak with him. And I think Ossanlin may wish to speak with you as well."
Nefitt's bushy eyebrows raise, but he nods. "Can you show me to my quarters first?" he asks, glancing suspiciously at Serid. "I need to deposit my things." He lifts the briefcase in explanation.
Keslin nods. "Of course. Both of you, come with me." He turns and leads the way back out of the Dome, Nefitt and Farrah following in relative silence.
Dan continues walking, without any destination in mind, through the Dome. Passing beneath one of the strange, Andalite trees, he bats the branches away irritably. The leaves, alien as they are, form some semblance of seclusion, and he slides to the grass, leaning back against the trunk and staring moodily ahead.
Valerie makes her way over to Rythil and Niko, hanging back a little as they reunite, though she does manage to overhear Niko's account of survivors. This brings a heavy sigh from her, but she forces a smile and steps forward. "Niko, it's good to see you," she says, blinking rapidly as she places a hand on his upper arm."
-
Ossanlin trots through the vast halls and ramp-wells of the Tyrennian. Never has the ship felt quite so empty...Enorryma had been his shadow for years, and while he sometimes found her protectiveness of his person an inconvenience, he finds that he feels almost naked now without it. Of course, the most dangerous years of his career had been spent without Enorryma, but knowing that all four of her eyes had been watching his back had become a welcome comfort. And then there was her unrivaled skill as a TO. To lose her...he'd lost soldiers before, but Enorryma and he had shared a kinship. Nothing romantic of course, the age difference and Ossanlin's own entanglement put paid to anything such as that. But a close camaraderie, siblings in arms.
Eventually he realizes he's wandering...subcons ciously avoiding the medbay. He'd ended up in primary engineering. The soft, soothing thrum of the primary Apix 2 coil fills the room, the glowing piece of machinery seated centrally with consoles all around. He watches the matter-antimatter reaction for a moment, the tightly-packed magnetic coils accelerating the particles to the speed of light for collision in rapid succession. The coil fuels its own reaction with magnitudes of energy to spare...the beating heart of the ship.
He shakes his head...he's avoiding it. He bucks up his resolve and makes his way directly to the med-bay. He passes through into the sterile, soft-white environment. Varekil tail-salutes as Ossanlin makes his way over. Ossanlin returns the gesture and then notices the freshly-activated stasis pod. He steels himself and walks up to it.
She looks pristine, as if sleeping upon the verge of waking. His hearts sink in spite of himself. Of course he never doubted the reports, even given their origins, but seeing Enorryma like this brings it home in a hurry. <Her condition?> Ossanlin runs his fingers across the polythane viewport.
<She's stable...now. But the damage is...extensive. To be honest, sir...it's a miracle she made it here. It will be months before the suite can repair and reverse the damage to her neural system.>
Ossanlin glances at Varekil with a stalk-eye. The young medic looks haggard. He's been run hard the past couple of days. <Varekil, thank you for performing admirably. I hate to ask more of you, but I'm afraid I must. For now, you are my only medic...you've inherited a leadership position. The rebel medics we brought back will be visiting you shortly. Maintain a watchful eye, but please answer their questions and allow them to look around. They will be using these facilities as well, after all.>
Varekil sighs deeply and nods. <Of course, my Prince.>
Ossanlin sends a private thought at Enorryma, even though she wouldn't hear him. <<We may not be able to complete the ceremony, but you are a true shorm, Enorryma-Almoress-Ingrell.>> He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, turning away from the stasis capsule. Claxter, Aetheas, and Keshin should be joining him shortly.
-
Claxter approached Aetheas and Keshin. <We have returned successfully, though it got a bit tense for a bit. What was this earlier about someone going to the medbay?>
-
Rythil glances at Valerie as she approaches and smiles. The somewhat-diminutive middle-eastern woman has always held a bit of a special place in his heart. He had spoken with her often, given the post she'd filled in the rebellion. And it had been her who'd come up with the idea to actually season bark. Seasoning had been a luxury, of course, but he couldn't help but smile, remembering the times she'd poured a little sugar syrup over his meal to make it just a little less bland. She'd even come up with a way to soften the bark enough to let the syrup soak in. Rythil's mouth begins to water a bit before he manages to clear his mind.
<<I must say, I'm very pleased with the change in your disposition, Rythil. Bloodlust was getting a bit old.>>
<<Don't push me...I just don't want to upset people.>>
<<I'm inside your head, Rythil...lying doesn't work.>>
<<...>>
-
Aetheas is finding it difficult to control his breathing as he listens to Keshin's description, however vague, of the events between himself and Captain Ossanlin. What he's feeling isn't anger, exactly, and it's not directed at Keshin, exactly. It's just the sense that nothing is as he's believed it to be, the sense that his world doesn't fit together in quite the way he's always thought.
<Myitt...> he responds, slowly, <What kind of Yeerk would have that sort of influence over the Captain, to allow you aboard...> He does not check his words, does not try to keep from being offensive. It's almost as if he's not speaking to Keshin at all... more as though he's looking and speaking through him. <What kind of Captain would allow a Yeerk to have that sort of influence?>
He seems almost to not hear Claxter, but after a moment he shakes his head. His Command-Warrior had addressed him. He shakes his head and lowers his tail in respect. <Yes...> he sputters... <It was TO Enorryma... she...>
Suddenly, he starts, hearing the Captain's thought-speak order to join him in the med-bay, and quite nearby. Jarring, that, considering he hasn't noticed Ossanlin anywhere nearby. He looks around, still failing to spot the Captain (though some part of his brain does note the human stripping off his clothes as he leaves the dome). He looks to Claxter and Keshin, <I suppose we'd best head to the med-bay.> He turns his main eyes to Claxter, <Varekil will be able to explain better than I.>
With that, he leads the way into the corridor. A few minutes later, he finds himself standing outside the med-bay, though for some reason, he's hesitant to go in.
-
<Prince Commander Ennoryma?> Claxter said, bewildered. He didn't even know she was in bad shape. This was very bad, especially if she didn't get better. They had so few already, and not one Andalite on the ship could replace her in skill or experience. He made his way towards the med bay, as Prince Ossanlin had earlier instructed. He would perhaps try to get more answers, but this wasn't exactly a conversation to be made to the general public. He hoped to hear good news, and that morale didn't drop. He didn't know her very well, but she was worthy of a lot of respect, and he had hoped to learn from her.
-
Niko hugs Rythil and Firin lightly, stepping back with a somber nod.
"Yeah, well...Reven and James..." He looks down again. "I wish they were here, it feels like we're lost without them." He glances up at Rythil with a hollow expression. "When the base was destroyed, they were still there, trying to get people to safety."
He looks over at Valerie, startled by her sudden appearance, her sudden touch on his arm shaking him out of his depressing thoughts.
Then he grins.
"Valerie," he sighs, hugging her, too. "I'm so glad you're safe. Gene would be so glad you're alright."
Pacing down the hallway, Myitt finds herself confronted with a small crowd in front of the med bay doors.
She slows, then stops, looking Aetheas up and down, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets.
"I heard my people have returned," she murmurs blandly, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. She clears her throat, tilting her head slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't recognize you. Are you one of Prince Ossanlin's soldiers?"
-
Firin feels immediate dismay at the words, understanding their meaning without pause. It takes Rythil a bit longer before his eyes widen. "You can't mean...no no...that's not possible!" Rythil presses a hand to his midsection and walks a few paces past Niko, leaning against a nearby tree with his other hand. Then a thought occurs to him. He turns back to Niko. "But the Andalites took some prisoners, we saw it! He could be with them..." The hopeful look in his eyes fades a bit. "...wherever they are. I bet the blue-furs on this ship would know, though. If they'll tell us, maybe we can rescue them! Maybe James and Reven are there!" Rythil forces a small smile. Tenuous though it is, the hope is still a thread to grasp at.
<<I don't think...>>
<<Don't be rotten wood...it's possible.>>
<<Rythil...think about what Niko's said...and what we already know.>>
<<...what are you getting at?>>
<<We saw Myitt get captured...>>
-
<She has long suffered from Stimulant Syndrome,> Aetheas explains to Claxter absently, regurgitating the knowledge that he himself has only recently acquired. <She was a fighter pilot back when narthicyl use was widespread. It's finally caught up with her.>
He moves towards the door to the med-bay, intending to finally go in, but halts, almost gratefully, when he's addressed by a human. He turns one stalk eye towards her, then the other when he realizes who it is. <You are Myitt,> he replies matter-of-factly. He shows no emotion externally, save for the way he subconsciously takes a step back. Internally, however, he is a roiling sea of curiosity and turmoil. This is the Yeerk who apparently has deeper ties to Captain Ossanlin than most Andalites. The Yeerk who's apparently convinced him to bring... he glances at Keshin... to bring another who once almost killed him aboard. The Yeerk for whom, as far as Aetheas can tell, they've sacrificed everything, and he finds himself itching to know more about her than what he's read in the logs.
<I...> he begins hesitantly, still absorbed in his thoughts. <Yes, the scouting mission to the second rendezvous point has returned,> he says, now eying her more intently. <They brought a number of humans and presumably Yeerks with them. I believe they are gathering in the dome.>
At her question, he hesitates, unsure how to answer. <I am aristh Aetheas-Emelen-Sirinial. I am...> he hesitates again. <I am a member of the crew of the Tyrennian, yes.>
-
Keshin follows the Andalite back to the med-bay tentatively, wondering what's going through the guy's head. He just told him that he nearly killed Ossanlin, and the Andalite seemed bewildered by the close relationship between the War-Prince and Myitt One-Nine-Five. Keshin hardly was---he'd learned firsthand exactly how close the two were. But he supposed from a normative standpoint it was weird. He didn't realize, in a sense, so long out of the War...how different outcasts were from most people.
<No freakin' duh, Kess. I coulda toldja that.>
<...>
Keshin's eyes widen as he notices, of all people, Myitt in the med bay just in front of War-Prince Ossanlin. The Andalite introduces himself as Aetheas, which at least tells them what the Andalite's name is. "N-Nice to see you," Keshin manages to get out, unsure of what to say. Myitt had been grieving in her room a long time.
-
Ossanlin shuts off his ARC holo-emitter as a goodly number of people, both human and Andalite, enter the med-bay. He'd been looking over Varekil's preliminary report regarding Enorryma. He glances at each of them...Aetheas, Myitt, Keshin, and Claxter. He nods...perhaps it would be good for Myitt to hear this too.
<Thank you for joining me. As you can see, Prince Commander Enorryma has become...indisposed . She will live, and should regain consciousness, but with the limitations aboard the Tyrennian, it will likely take a minimum of several months, and perhaps years. Neural damage is not easy nor quick to repair. I'm afraid she finally fell victim to Stim Syndrome.> He pauses a moment before continuing. <Her loss will be felt keenly...she had no peer. I was relying upon her heavily. However I do not have time to grieve, nor do the rest of us. I need a Tactical Officer, and I need one who could one day live up to the Prince Commander's potential.>
Ossanlin looks straight at Aetheas with his main eyes. <Aetheas, you have a gift for strategy and incredible potential for growth. From this day onward, your training will intensify. I'm afraid you'll not have much time to yourself. Prince Lieutenant Claxter will continue to give you lessons, but only when he can as his own training on the helm will be intensified. Others will give you lessons as well. I'm tasking you with a huge undertaking, Aetheas. You will have to learn every bolt, weld, wall, and rivet on the Tyrennian. You will study tactical situations and your mettle will be tried a thousand times over and more. If there is even one shred of doubt in your mind that you are able to become a worthy Tactical Officer, speak up now.>
-
Claxter stood, masking his emotions, as Ossanlin confirmed that Ennoryma was gone. Temporarily, but the coming months or more would be much harder without her. He almost missed his new rank. He was being promoted, as well as Aetheas, who he was sure wouldn't tun down such a promotion. The guy had a lot of potential. Still, this was not the way that Claxter wanted to be promoted. Ideally his promotion would come because he had proven himself. Not because someone was near death. It was not unheard of in war, though.
-
Niko pulls back from Valerie slightly and swallows hard, a bleak expression on his face as he regards the big Hork-Bajir Controller. "I hope you're right, Rythil," he murmurs. "I hope you're right, for the sake of all the people we still can't find. But Reven..." He lowers his gaze, a hand still on Valerie's shoulder. "We'll mourn for him and James in our own way."
"My name is Myitt One-Nine-Five," says Myitt, "and my human friend you see here is named Tara LaFauci. We are pleased to meet a friend of Ossanlin's, Aetheas." She winces, internally cursing how stilted her Galard has become from relative lack of use. English, it had been lately--a lot of it, with its colorful turns on language.
She paces into the med bay and nods at Ossanlin with a sad smile, watching as Ossanlin explains the dire situation with Enorryma.
<<Never much liked her,>> she comments to Tara internally, <<but then again I never much like Andalites. She and I could have gotten along, maybe. She was bright, and liked math.>> She shrugs outwardly, and touches Ossanlin's shoulder.
"I'm sorry about your friend, Ossy," Myitt says softly, in English. "Please let me know if I can help you while she recovers, I'm...I'm here to listen and...and all that stuff." She deflates a little, her gaze wandering to the rest of the room.
Myitt stiffens a bit and gives Keshin a hard look. "Keeping out of trouble, turelek?" she intones under her breath, propping herself up lightly on the balls of her feet.
-
Keshin watches the events of Aetheas' promotion unfold, but decides it's best not to congratulate him. This isn't the way anyone would want a new job, not even the resentful Andalite. Still, he had to admit that he had been slightly frightened of Enorryma. He had only met her in tense moments and very briefly, but he recognized her as the officer with the intimidating air to her. He imagined he'd be far luckier with the Tactical Officer.
<Yeah, but he doesn' like you either. Now that he knows what we're about.>
<....I think I have sowed a seed of interest in him. We will see.>
Keshin's posture stiffens as soon as Myitt leans near him. He definitely heard her say "Keeping out of trouble." Did she always suspect him of something at this point? Probably--- it was warranted. He hadn't gotten in trouble....yet. The deal with Salem might or might not be on. He mutters "More or less" quietly in the Yeerk's direction.
-
Aetheas stands shock still for a moment, Ossanlin's words not really reaching him. The TO position... of course it's something he can do, but it's a position he'd expected he'd have to work towards for years. Nearly every Andalite on this ship is his senior, and he'd have expected the position to go to one of them. But then... none of them is more qualified than he was for the position, he feels sure of that. He feels a sense of awe, even as the world seems to roll beneath him with the shock of the offer, that the Captain had recognized this in him. He knows War-Prince Ossanlin has seemed to be showing him special attention, but this... this is unexpected.
<Captain-Prince Ossanlin,> begins Aetheas, finally remembering to lower his tail in the presence of a superior officer, <I will accept this undertaking. I...> his stalk eyes find Enorryma, and he feels a pang of regret. True, as an officer, she'd left some very large hoof-prints to fill, but the loss to him is two-fold. Of all the members of this crew, she's the one he'd been most looking forward to learning from, the one whose knowledge he respects the most greatly. The loss of her as an officer means less to him, personally, than the loss of her as a potential teacher. <I will attempt to live up to the standard set by Prince Commander Enorryma.> How under the suns am I supposed to surpass her without learning from her?
-
Ossanlin nods. <Very good. You will not be taking the position immediately, nor will you be taking it before I feel that you are ready. And you are not as things currently stand. How quickly you assume the mantle of Tactical Officer will be up to you, but you'll do no good to anyone if you burn yourself out on training. One of the others will fill the post in the interim, but if we're to be successful in our venture, I don't need a satisfactory TO, I need an exemplary one.>
He moves his main eyes back to Claxter. <I'm sorry we cannot have a proper ceremony at the moment, Claxter. We will when we can, but for now I bestow upon you the privileges and responsibilities of the rank of Prince Lieutenant. Consider it a battlefield promotion, and please understand, I would not award it if I did not feel it was deserved.> His stalk eyes catch one of his Warriors entering the med-bay. He takes the two hand-span sized boxes and nods as the Warrior retreats. He opens the first to reveal the glint of platinum and gold, the belt insignia of a Prince Lieutenant, the chevron marking officer rank standing out in the bright lights of the medbay. He hands the box to Claxter. <Here you are, Prince. I could wish this were under happier circumstances, but it is deserved no matter the surroundings.>
He opens the second to reveal a platinum Warrior's insignia. This box he hands to Aetheas. <This is long over-due, Warrior Aetheas. As with the Prince Lieutenant, we will have a proper ceremony when we can. Learn quickly, Warrior, I know that you are capable.>
He nods, tail-saluting Claxter and Aetheas both in turn, and moves his main eyes to Keshin. <You tried to warn me, didn't you? Not the behavior I'd expect from you, Keshin.> He glances at Myitt before returning his eyes to Keshin. <I do have an Escafil aboard the Tyrennian. Unfortunately, I'm unable to access it at the moment. The locking field only disengages for a dual verification by two of the three commanding officers aboard the ship. My First Officer is no longer aboard, and my TO is in this suspension pod. Until an official promotion is made in the Tyrennian's database for either a First Officer or Tactical Officer, the field will remain sealed.> He pauses before continuing. <When a promotion is made, what guarantees would I have that you wouldn't simply abscond in one of my Tail Fighters once you've been nothlitized?>
-
Claxter made an involuntary shiver when he heard the words battlefield promotion. He didn't like that phrase one bit, briefly flashing back to what happened soon after his first battlefield promotion from Aristh to Warrior. He accepted the new insignia respectfully. <Thank you my Prince.> He salutes in return to Ossanlin's salute.
-
"Your guarantee is in my common sense," states Keshin, nodding to Ossanlin when the War-Prince reaches him. This was going to have to be pretty convincing, as Keshin honestly had not worked out what they were planning to do yet. It would make sense to run off in a Tail fighter once they got ahold of the plans for the ship, but that would take some planning and leeway that they didn't have. Not yet, anyway.
"This ship probably has the equivalent of cameras running through it, and there is likely a person manning those cameras at all times. We're also outnumbered. As a human nothlit, Joanne would still be a capable gunman but not capable enough to run from that many people."
Keshin pauses and levels his eyes with Ossanlin's main eyes, as if attempting to bring back their shared....experienc e. "You know this yourself. And we would owe you one."
-
Aetheas stares at the box offered him for a moment. A battlefield promotion? It does make sense-- the ship is hardly fully crewed at the moment, and his own promotion is long overdue, but the circumstances of this promotion are less-than-ideal.
He steps forward, his hearts hammering. He reaches for the box, miming Claxter's own acceptance of the insignia. Definitely long overdue, he thinks. <Thank you, my Prince,> he says, saluting. <I will learn quickly. I will do all I can to become the TO this ship needs.> He subconsciously drifts towards the door, eager to begin his training now as if he believes he can power through everything he needs to know and begin the job tomorrow. <My Prince,> he says to the Captain, <with what should I begin my training?>
-
Derrel had been looking for Myitt, and caught a glimpse of her just as she left for somewhere else. If she was busy, he figured he'd check out on of the rooms. Since they were isolated to the Dome, the rooms must be adjacent, and he found an empty one. There was a bed made of force fields, and Xevec took over to look over every inch of it. Occasionally he would open and close the door, just to make sure it wasn't locked. When he was satisfied, he sat down to try to relax. This was the last place he ever expected to see, but this is where he'd be spending his time until their situation improved. Or untill they were shipped off to a prison or killed.
-
Ossanlin raises an eyebrow at Keshin. <Your common sense...your common sense is to the almighty currency...personal gain. I might be amenable to nothlitizing you, but note that measures will be taken to ensure that you don't abuse the gift. And, of course, I would need to hear from your host...without you...that she is willing to forsake her own body and face for another. And yes, there are security locks and sensors in place, but if there's one person who knows how to wriggle through infinitesimal cracks, it's you.>
He turns his attention back to Aetheas. <Tyrennian schematics. Capabilities. Specs. I wasn't lying, Aetheas. You must know the Tyrennian's support struts as your own bones, it's hull as your skin. You must know its engines and thrusters as your legs and its sensors as your eyes and ears. You must know its shredders as your tail, because the Tyrennian must be an extension of your body. You need to know to a precise degree what she is capable of, and how hard you can push her. Where her strengths and weaknesses are. You must know it as you know your own capabilities and limitations. This is no minor task, Aetheas...I'm asking you to accomplish in months what Enorryma developed over years. You may relax today if you wish, but tomorrow, that will not be an option.>
<The same goes for you, Claxter. If you wish to relax today, you may. But starting tomorrow you will be on full helm shift with a temporary overseer. You are both dismissed, unless you have further current need of me.>
Ossanlin glances at Myitt with his main eyes. <I'm glad to see you out and about, Myitt. We should speak...>
-
It seemed quite a bit, hearing to what detail a TO would need to know the ship. Though it probably shouldn't come as a surprise. It was one of the highest stations, and a TO was one of a captain's highest confidantes.
<Yes, my Prince.> He said, giving a small bow as he turned to leave. He spared a stalk eye at Ennoryma's stasis pod as he left. In a way he wished if she must succumb, that it had been before she left the Electorate. What good would it have done to risk everything if she might die so soon after leaving? It felt like a waste.
He affixed his new insignia, and made his way back to the dome. He considered relaxing a bit, since it may be a while before he could relax again.
-
As Ossanlin explains the level of detail to which he would be expected to know the Tyrennian, Aetheas feels himself getting more and more excited. Oh. Oh yes. If ever there was a position so perfectly hand-crafted to his talents, this was it.
<Thank you, Captain,> he says with another brief salute, <but I would rather begin today.> He turns and follows Claxter out the door, eager to begin his research. As he exits the med-bay, he takes his new insignia, the crescent of the Warrior, into his hand and considers it.
After a moment, he finds himself walking with Claxter back towards the dome. <So...> he begins, his stalk eyes pointed back the direction they'd just come from. He seems unsure of how to continue that thought, however.
-
<Yeah...> Claxter said, still letting what just happened sink in. <Things are going to get very busy for us. I'm fully aware you have a lot of potential, and I hope to see you make good use of it. I also hope I'll be a great pilot as well.>
He looks at the rebels, wondering a lot of things. <I really hope this works. I feel like perhaps I should take this opportunity to rest up, as it will be a while before I can again, but if I do I may become too anxious.>
-
Myitt, nonplussed by Keshin's reaction, doesn't hound the melancholy-looking turelek any further.
She clears her throat and listens patiently as Ossanlin and Aetheas discuss Aetheas' promotion.
Ossanlin's voice ringing in her head, calling her by name, snaps her back to full attention.
"It is good to be out and about, Ossanlin," Myitt agrees grimly. "I should see who has arrived. I want to thank you again, my friend, for...for everything your people have done to help us. I think some of us are settling in, at least marginally."
-
"You can hear from Joanne any time you would like, Ossanlin," Keshin says, raising an eyebrow. "Although you'll find that someone who has been dealing with our curse for double the time I have will be more than amenable to its end."
Keshin represses a smirk at Ossanlin's comment about their ability to wriggle. They did always have a few tricks up their sleeves, but it was laughable that the War-Prince now seemed to think of them as some kind of ne'er-do-well grandmaster. They were bounty hunters, not spies!
<To be fair we did almost kill 'im.>
<True.>
Keshin watches Myitt's thank Ossanlin for his kindness, but decides against saying anything. He needs a proper opportunity to thank Myitt himself, but this likely isn't it. The Yeerk had very likely saved their lives, and he still wondered why. There had been a few unusual...incidents when they both were desperate, but there was no love lost between them.
-
<You will,> Aetheas says absently when Claxter says he hopes he makes a good pilot. The words are said without any emotion, almost without any thought- it's just matter-of-fact. <If I rest, I will only be wishing I was training,> he says. <This is the sort of assignment I believe I'll enjoy.>
He takes a look around the dome and decides that the chance to observe and interact with some of the rebels may outweigh the privacy of his quarters. <I think I'll begin studying here,> he says, not realizing he's speaking out loud. <It's pleasant in the dome.> His mind is still running a mile a minute, going over what's just happened. He sets off at a steady pace across the grass, heading for the crew quarters.
He turns his stalk eyes to Claxter, <If this doesn't work, we'll all end up incarcerated or incinerated.> He smiles at his dark little joke.
-
<I appreciate the vote of confidence.> Claxter said. <I suppose we need to make sure it works, then. No going back now.>
Claxter begins walking around the dome, thinking to himself. He notices Xevec opening and closing the door to a room. <Is the door causing problems?> He asked, looking at it.
"No, just making sure it isn't locking me in or anything." Xevec said absentmindedly.
<I assure you that we are not trying to deceive anyone here. You are not prisoners.>
"Don't take it too personally. I just have problems trusting anyone. I don't even trust the rebels completely. It happens when you get stabbed in the back by someone you trust."
<I am sorry. Is that why you left the Empire?>
"Yep. Someone i thought was my friend made a mistake, which is often fatal when you work for Visser Three, and he found a way to frame me for it. So I go from Sub Visser to new guy at the rebel base soon after. Didn't you have a different rank before?"
<I was just promoted, due to an officer not being able to continue her duties.>
"You're supposed to be rebels too, so I'd say drop the ranks altogether."
<The ranks are an important part of our military life, and are unlikely to be discarded. Besides, we are holding out hope to one day be reinstated after we help the Yeerk rebels.>
"Maybe. Maybe not. What do you do, anyway?"
<I will be piloting the ship.>
"Interesting."
<I don't suppose you are friends with Terenia, are you?>
"No. She's not an easy person to get close to. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but deep down she's not purposefully malevolent. My partner and I don't approve of what she did to Efaen, or her idea to bring Efaen with her, but my own 'hands' aren't the cleanest and Derrel is too busy with his own life to really care much what Terenia's done. Or to work hard to make friends with someone who wants to be left alone. Not that I would even want to rock the boat by agitating Corliss' wife. I take it you're pretty angry at her."
<Why shouldn't I be?>
"Why indeed? Are you just as angry at your boss for letting Efaen go?"
<W-well he had safety measures in place that were supposed to prevent that sort of thing.>
"As someone who has had a leadership position in the past, I would suggest you not dodge questions, or scapegoat. If you're going to be angry at someone for being partly responsible for something bad, it would be fair to spread the blame evenly. Why send some broken stranger to a delicate mission, instead of someone he trusted, regardless of safety measures?"
<I don't know.> Claxter started feeling uncomfortable with how the conversation was going. <I have to go do something...> He said, leaving.
"See you around!"
-
Aetheas watches as Claxter approaches one of the rebels with some level of envy-- he himself has always had a difficult time simply approaching strangers and striking up conversation. With a sigh, he heads to his quarters and grabs a data pad. He puts in a request for the computer to upload all available information pertaining to the Tyrennian itself to the pad-- he notes that some restricted information is omitted, meaning he hasn't been given full security clearance yet.
Moments later, pad in hand, he heads back out into the dome.
-
Iksilon sighed as he boarded the shuttle, activating his private communicator. <Their identities?> His body-guards left him as they were supposed to do, and he retired to his personal chamber. The shuttle was not large, but Iksilon demanded his privacy. Only silence answered him. He sighed again. <Cendir, there are times for these little games, and times to avoid them. This time is the latter.>
<Yes...Iksilon. As to the identities of those who raided Corvus…I do not know. But…>
<Then why did you contact me, Cendir? Do you simply enjoy wasting my time? You know how much I love to waste time…> Iksilon retired to his cube, relaxing after the events at the facility.
<We discovered some puzzling information…>
<Contact me when you have them in custody…> He began to close the communication.
<That won’t be possible.> Even though it was a voice-only transmission, Iksilon could all but hear the cringe in her thought…for good reason.
<Must we have another…talk…Cendir?>
Nothing but silence answered him for a few moments, before the female spoke up again. <They performed a blind double-jump.>
Iksilon cursed to himself. Blind jumps were incredibly risky, but also very effective at shedding pursuers. <I…see. This is disappointing news, Cendir. I believe we may need to revisit our prior…conversation.>
<But, darling…as I was trying to tell you, we do have clues…>
<Clues? At least tell me what type of ship they were piloting.>
<They rendezvoused with a larger vessel. A much larger vessel.>
So…a larger group…the guerilla troops had simply been an elite strike-force. A well-armed and well-informed strike-force. <A Blade Ship then?>
<We…didn’t actually see either ship, they had early warning probes deployed and ran as soon as we entered the system.>
Iksilon sighed to himself. It had been a long time since Cendir had failed him so completely as this. Perhaps it was finally time to have her taken care of. But running did indicate a wish to remain completely unknown…not undetected, but unknown. Perhaps there was more to this situation than met the eye.
Cendir pulled him from his thoughts once again. <Not a Blade Ship. As I said, we obtained clues. The larger ship had been orbiting a large ferrous planet-core. While the magnetism disguised the ship’s sensor profile, it also preserved the ship’s ionic spectral profile. Radioactive decay allowed us to determine how long the ship had been orbiting the core. After computing the parameters, the spectrum was too large for a Blade ship and too small for a pool ship. We cross-referenced the spectrum with all ships in the…Dark Scythe’s memory banks…we could find no matches.>
Iksilon ****ed his head to the side. No matches…the Dark Scythe’s sensor array was beyond compare, as were so many other things about his flagship…that kind of detailed analysis couldn’t have been obtained by any other ship. Not so quickly anyway. It likely would’ve taken weeks. An unknown sensor profile…how odd. Their database was complete…to think there might be an entire element beyond Sector Seven’s perception…it was laughable…ludicrous even. <Very well, transmit the data to my personal ARC. I will do some…pondering. You’re lucky you were able to give me something, Cendir. I need you to return to Alpha Dektrat. I will be joining you in a few days.>
He closed the communication and rubbed his temples. This small setback…it couldn’t ruin his good mood. But work was never done, not for the Alpha Lord. He loaded the recorder data from the Corvus facility into the small computer in his personal quarters and began searching for any clue…any nugget of information regarding the unknown element that had freed the rebel Yeerks. The virus had obviously been designed specifically for the Corvus computer system, and that was troubling in and of itself. Who could’ve obtained such specific information and then carried out such a precision surgical strike? Perhaps the rebels were far more dangerous than he originally assumed them to be. Most of the recordings were scrambled…but one…the one in the Yeerk containment vault…that one had caught a clear image of one of the Hork-Bajir…and the image Iksilon saw was more than troubling. The Hork-Bajir was wearing an ARC with a command-comm wrist-panel. And while the residents of Corvus had professed multiple times that the raiders had used clearly Yeerkish beam weapons, the profile Iksilon made out in the dark of that still image was one of an ASAR. Modified to be sure, but an ASAR nonetheless. The petite Andalite narrowed his eyes and began to think furiously.
* * *
The week seemed to pass quickly. There was too much to do, and not enough hands to do it. The Tyrennian managed to visit five other rendezvous points, and found a few more rebels, though not nearly enough. So many names lost…so much tragedy. They were approaching the sixth rendezvous point now, and according to those in the know, this was one of the last “official” emergency points.
Both Keslin and Myitt were becoming regular presences aboard the bridge of the massive Dome Ship. Ossanlin had granted both access to the information files regarding the basic functionality and operation of the ship. It served to help placate the other rebels, but also, Ossanlin hoped, would help to keep the rebels aboard the Tyrennian once they finally made their decision regarding the matter.
As Ossanlin had both expected and feared, Aetheas had thrown himself full-on into his training to become an admirable TO. Expected because that was Aetheas’s personality…his drive to fulfill his own expectations of himself. Feared because while Ossanlin needed the speed, he feared it would burn the young Andalite out quickly.
Claxter was progressing in his own training on the helm of the Tyrennian. He now made a passable pilot, and at this rate of learning, would become a respectable one in short order. Both wore their new insignia, though the official ceremonies had yet to be performed.
Eleric had used every opportunity to deploy Lightning-strike, though Ossanlin has not approved any training drills as yet. He’d continued his efforts with Efaen as well, though he couldn’t tell if they were bearing any fruit.
Varekil’s demeanor had become somewhat surly with the added responsibility of becoming Prime Medical Officer, but he’d been more than tolerant of the human and Yeerk presence in what had now become his med-bay. Ossanlin had given them clearance to view all files pertaining to the med-bay’s equipment as well as the records on Andalite physiology and pathology.
Ossanlin had also given some clearance to a few of the other rebels. The one known as Firin-985 had been given clearance to the engineering records of the ship after demonstrating an insatiable thirst for the knowledge. Perhaps it had been too soon to trust, but Ossanlin had always felt some racial responsibility for the plight of the Hork-Bajir people.
Ossanlin had also relaxed the restrictions on Keshin, though he was still forbidden to go anywhere near the docking hangars.
As they approached this final rendezvous point, all seemed quiet. Would they find anymore rebels? And if so, what surprises awaited them?
((Sorry guys, this is a bit sub-par, but I’m having trouble with the creative flow, so give me a bit of a break. ^^))
-
Drifting through space was a lone Andalite Fighter. It had taken heavy damage, as the engines were blown out, and there was a hole in the hull. The only thing keeping the air from being sucked out was the fading energy shields, though there was precious little air left inside. Air tanks were often stored in a compartment in the ship in case of emergency, but the compartment had been on the wall that now had a hole in it. Coincidence? Who knew? Ferxal had been drifting for a long time, and was losing hope in finding anyone. He had sent distress call after distress call, but no one had answered, and he was contemplating giving himself a quick death instead of one by suffocation.
<One last try.> He told himself as he started feeling groggy from the lack of air. One last try, and if it wasn't answered, he would end it. <This is Ferxal Escoth Dhoraim of the Andalite forces. I am stranded and dying. Please help me. If there is any Andalite ship that can hear this, please help me.> The last message was send out. He leaned against the console, legs tucked under him, and waited. He looked at his tail blade, and wondered if he could really bring himself to self terminate. Being trained for something like this was one thing. Actually doing it was another.
-
Keshin wandered the Tyrennian with disinterest, drawing Joanne's hand along the wall in an ancient gesture she had once used to focus her attention and calm herself. Ossanlin had come no closer to allowing them to use the Escafil Device, and the longer Ossanlin waited the more medicine they ran out of. They were trapped on this ship without funds and without a means to procure trust that anyone would accept. They had a few leads on the side, though. Talking to the rebels had proven fruitful enough--- Although he doubted they had what they were looking for, they might have the means now to either mix or procure it.
<We're not completely lost. If we can convince either Ossanlin to change us in exchange for our permanent support, or we can find elements in the rebels who want it....we might have a place to hang out.>
<An' then there's Salem's ask.>
<We can't do anything on that front until we have the ship's trust, although it's looking better than it was. And do we even want to? Maybe this is the solution to our problems, Joanne.>
<We've been free birds. D'you think we could live in a metal cage?>
<.....we need to ask ourselves that question, if it means life. Yeerks see that, where humans do not.>
Keshin decided that their best course of action, perhaps, was to talk to the rebellion about whether the Yeerks had reached consensus on their objectives aboard the Tyrennian. He headed in the direction of the crew quarters and thus their "section" of the ship, taking Joanne's hand off the wall and instead focusing on moving forward.
-
Ossanlin glances out the viewport of his administrative office, watching the streaks of distant stars as the ship moves through regular space. It had been a rough week, but they'd found several more rebels. That was good news of course, there are now enough hands to keep the ship flying...once they become trusted and trained anyway. But Ossanlin's doubts continue to multiply. Efaen's Halcyon chip is the largest concern looming in his mind. He wouldn't perform the surgery without her consent...but Sector Seven would be frisking their hooves once they realized she had been implanted. The chip's frequency would allow them to trace Efaen's whereabouts no matter where she went, and right now, her presence endangers the entire ship and crew.
To make matters tougher, the last rendezvous point is apparently incredibly close to what sensor information indicated had been a fairly recent skirmish between the Andalites and the Empire. Ossanlin had ordered Claxter to bring the Tyrennian in from well away...far enough to detect any ships possibly remaining in the area.
And of course there was the matter of founding a base of operations. The Tyrennian's long-term survivability depended upon having some sort of space-dock facility to conduct repairs and maintenance that could not be completed otherwise. Where could such a facility be built safely? Where would they find enough raw materials? How could they keep it truly hidden? How were they going to build and maintain a permanent kandrona facility aboard the Tyrennian? Of course that last depended upon the rebels deciding to remain with the Tyrennian. Everything hinges upon that decision. What would the Tyrennian do without rebel support? Ossanlin shakes his head, still gazing at the passing stars. He has contingency plans of course, but not a single one is even remotely desirable.
Ossanlin's comm thought-chimes, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glances at the comm-sender and opens the frequency.
<Sir...we have detected a...distress...beac on. It's Andalite in origin...Tail Fighter-class.> Esarvit's somewhat monotonous tone showcasing a bit of trepidation.
Ossanlin furrows his brow. This is a dangerous situation. The intelligent thing...the intelligent and ruthless thing to do would be to simply ignore the cry for help. An Electorate-loyal Andalite would represent an enormous threat. Morph-capable...likely familiar with at least the basic engineering of Dome-class vessels...and completely unknown. He nearly tells Esarvit to ignore the beacon when the older Andalite speaks up again. <There is apparently a message accompanying the beacon, sir.>
Ossanlin sighs to himself before speaking up. <I'm on my way.> He closes the communicator and makes his way into the officer meeting room to the bridge.
<Captain on-deck.> One of the bridge attendants calls out, the call followed by a flurry of tail-salutes.
Ossanlin returns the salute. <At leisure.> He glances at the Andalite currently attending to the comms station and nods to him. <Let's hear it.>
<This is Ferxal Escoth Dhoraim of the Andalite forces. I am stranded and dying. Please help me. If there is any Andalite ship that can hear this, please help me.>
Ossanlin quickly scans the Tyrennian's records of the name supplied. It brings up an obviously-dated image from the Academy as well as the most-current information listed about him at the time of the Tyrennian's last connection to the Andalite strike-net. Of course they'd no longer be able to connect to that...it would be a dead giveaway as to the Tyrennian's survival. The information certainly wouldn't detail this skirmish, it's much too recent. But the file shows his most-recent rank and deployment information, as well as his service history and basic psychological profile. Ossanlin gives the information a quick skim...the smart thing would still be to simply ignore the distress beacon, but should this Andalite be consigned to death when the Tyrennian was in a position to help? Ossanlin shuts his eyes for several moments before opening them again and looking into the holographic eyes of the old holopic of Ferxal. <Yaolin...> He mutters quietly.
He glances at Claxter. <Plot an intercept, Prince-Lieutenant. He sounds as though he doesn't have much time.> He hopes fervently that he won't come to regret this decision.
-
Claxter had been piloting the Tyrennian for a week, and he was still a bit at awe with that fact. Training had been stressful, but he had managed, and now he was getting confident that he wouldn't do something horribly bad. He had heard the message, and the name Ferxal sounded familiar. He thought about it as he watched the sensors to line the dome ship's hangars with the damaged fighter.
<Ferxal was on my old ship.> He said, mostly to himself. <Which one was...oh yeah. The creepy one.> He hadn't exactly made friends with many people when he was an aristh under Prince Foosal, and he certainly hadn't made friends with Ferxal. He was the best at tail fighting, and enjoyed being face to face with an opponent, but his near monotone voice and always neutral expression put off almost everyone around him. He was cold, but obedient. Still, as skilled and obedient as he was, Foosal didn't like him. Foosal didn't like anybody. There was always something wrong with you, and he wouldn't let you get away with being imperfect for a second.
The hangar bay opened, and the tractor beam pulled the tail fighter in. fortunately one part of the ship that was still operational was the air intake system, and as soon as the doors closed it went to work pumping fresh air into the ship. Ferxal had all but collapsed when he saw the Mark III Dome Ship coming. What were the odds? To his knowledge, only one was currently deployed and Prince Foosal didn't say anything about it coming here for reinforcements. Even they weren't supposed to be here.
They hadn't opened communications to him, but as long as they were coming, he would just be thankful to everything worth thanking that he was saved. Once safely in the hangar, he ordered the ship's door to open, managed to stand without getting dizzy and falling again, and walked out to meet whoever would greet him in the hangar.
-
Ossanlin watches as Claxter pilots the Tyrennian into position to receive the severely-damaged tail-fighter. Ferxal's file had indicated he was a ground specialist, but ground-specialists couldn't do a lot in space combat situations. His secondary function was likely to be Tail Fighter pilot. Ossanlin glances at Esarvit. <You have the command, Prince Lieutenant.> He moves his main eyes to Serid. <With me, Command Warrior. Have a security team meet us in the irregular docking hangar.> He opens a communication with Varekil, asking him to join them for a possible medical emergency.
Ossanlin and Serid make their way to the hangar bays where Varekil and three security personnel meet them. He makes his way to the scarred, unusable Tail Fighter and watches as the hatch opens. <Welcome aboard, Warrior.>
-
<<There's nothing here,>> says Varit to his host, despair leaking into his voice. <<There's nobody here!>> He looks at his instrument panels, ignoring the flashing red light, signalling LOW CABIN PRESSURE in Yeerkish. The scanners are picking up nothing... which may not be saying much, considering the state of this Bug.
He pushes down his panic and alters the scanning method. The sensors should still give him something. After all, they had been working two days ago, at the other rendezvous point. There'd been a number of fresh ion trails that might indicate a gathering of the Rebellion, and, farther out, a larger one. Much larger, and probably Andalite in origin.
He had stayed for all of about a half an hour, debating whether or not to send his beacon, before his nerves had gotten the better of him and he'd run for another rendezvous.
<<Wait, no, there were ships here. Several of them. Not long ago.>>
<<Empire?>> wonders his host, hunger welling at the thought of all the meat the Empire could provide.
<<I don't know,>> admits Varit as he wrestles with the controls, doing his best to resolve any information that might be useful. His host's surge of hunger has again reminded him of how hungry he, himself has become. It's been nearly three days since he used up the last portable Kandrona generator. <<The sensors have all but had it. If it's an Andalite or an Imperial ship that finds us, we're dead.>>
<<Shall we try another rendezvous?>> asks his host.
<<I won't survive that long,>> says Varit. <<You may not last that long, either.>> He specifically avoids looking at the broken human skeleton, now nearly picked clean, lying on the floor in the back. Just meat. It was just meat. Not his friend. Not a member of the Rebellion. Just meat.
<<You can't let us starve!>> shouts his host, suddenly, screaming inside his mind, wrestling for control. With some effort, Varit pushes his host's control back down.
<<No,>> he agrees a few moments later. <<We have to try something.>> He hesitates for a few moments, then enters some commands on his console. A distress beacon begins emanating from the ship's weathered communications array. <<Someone will find us,>> he says confidently, but even his host can tell he's not confident it'll be by someone friendly.
-
<Thank you for the rescue.....Prince Ossanlin?> Ferxal said as he realized who he was talking to. His neutral expression gave way to momentary surprise, before he forced it back down to neutral. He always strove to maintain himself and not show emotion, but this was a bit much after what he went through. <Um...As I stated in the distress message, I am Warrior Ferxal Escoth Dhoraim, under Prince Foosal. We were ambushed after being led into a trap, and I am possibly the only survivor, though I don't know for certain. Personally I'd much rather be on the ground than in a cramped vessel in space.>
<I apologize. That was trivial information. More importantly, whether Prince Foosal is alive or not, I would like to post a transfer on the grounds that my Prince has let his hatred of Yeerks interfere with doing his duty. I would appreciate traveling as far as the nearest base to where you are going.>
<Also I apologize for asking such a thing but...you do realize you are listed as KIA, do you not?>
Ferxal didn't really know what to make of this. Why was prince Ossanlin still alive, piloting the Tyrennian? Why had he severed contact with the Electorate? What did this mean for him?
-
Varekil shakes his head as he begins to scan Ferxal's body with a small but powerful sensor wand that relays data to his ARC. <Aside from a few minor hematomas and partial O2 deprivation, he is uninjured.>
Ossanlin nods. <Thank you, Command Warrior. You may return to the med-bay if you wish.>
Varekil nods and turns, walking back toward one of the ramp-wells.
Ossanlin returns his attention to Ferxal. <Indeed, Warrior...I do realize.> Ossanlin turns toward the nearest ramp-well and begins to walk at a leisurely pace, the security squad taking up flanking positions around Ferxal. <Accompany me if you would, please.> After a few moments have passed, Ossanlin speaks up again. <Ferxal...for whom do you fight?>
-
Ferxal followed Ossanlin as commanded. This wasn't good. He didn't know what this was, but somehow he felt like he'd gone from one ambush to another. All he wanted to do was head for the dome and try to relax, but he felt like he was walking on thin ice right now.
<I fight for the Electorate. I fight for the People. That is what my duty and honor would have of me.> He didn't know where Ossanlin was going with this, but felt it wise not to talk too much. His tail tensed very slightly as his biological fight or flight response was triggering, but he maintained an even tone and expression.
-
<Indeed.> Ossanlin continues walking toward the dome. <But what if the Electorate are not fighting for the People? What if the Electorate is actually hurting the People....whom do you fight for then?> He watches Ferxal with one stalk eye, the other scanning the hallway, his main eyes still facing straight forward.
-
<The Electorate's primary job is to represent the People, though corruption is not unheard of. I am unsure what my answer would be. As a Warrior, my duty is to obey the commands of my superiors, who are employed by the Electorate. However if my superior does something that is undeniably wrong, then I would want to transfer to another unit. If the Electorate itsself was corrupt, I suppose I would try to work within the system to improve things.>
He got the feeling that Prince Ossanlin might have gone rogue, and taken his ship and a crew with him. That seemed to be the implication, at least. Faking his death, along with a crew of loyal soldiers, to...to do what? What did he expect to accomplish with this? He wanted to ask, but felt it may be best to let Ossanlin guide the conversation.
-
<A solid plan. Effect change from the inside.> A couple of humans walk by and Ossanlin watches for Ferxal's reaction as he continues. <What if the Electorate itself is being controlled by a shadow organization? That while they believe themselves to be in power, they are really just dancing on strings pulled by others? What if the Electorate, at this organization's behest, committed an act of terrible atrocity against their own allies whilst at the same time losing our primary defensive position to the Empire because of that act? Would you still be able to fight from within?>
-
Ferxal noticed a couple of Human morphed Andalites walk by, and his stalk eyes followed them as he walked. He wondered if they were testing out their morphs to practice balance. He had seen holograms of Humans before, but was certain that their homeworld was controlled by Yeerks. They were quite far from the planet to be practicing for any infiltration mission.
<You believe there are Andalites using the Electorate for their own goals, and that the People are not following who they think they are? That this organization has recently betrayed you or someone else you support, and you can't do anything while working for a willing or ignorant puppet government?> Ferxal said. He didn't know if Ossanlin had come across some dark part of politics that could ruin their society, or if he was just following a conspiracy he believed in. <Does this have something to do with the Human Homeworld that would explain Andalites practicing Human morphs?>
<Although, to answer the question, I'd have to say I really don't know. If this were true, it is out of my level of experience. I am a Warrior, though I do believe I may have been promoted sooner had I actied more like Prince Foosal wanted me to. Still, this sort of thing is not something that crosses my mind. I have been far too busy just dealing with the more direct problem of the council of Thirteen and its Vissers. However, as far as tactics go, I suppose one must always keep a stalk eye behind yourself while fighting what's in front of you.>
-
<I do not merely believe Warrior, I know. You and everyone else know them as Sector Seven.> He finally reaches the dome and enters. Several Andalites, humans, and a couple of Hork-Bajir are out and about relaxing or feeding. Ossanlin turns to face Ferxal. <The humans and Hork-Bajir you see are not morphed. They are true humans. True Hork-Bajir.> He pauses, glancing at his security staff before continuing. <Do you believe that Yeerks are evil, Ferxal? Do you believe that genocide is the appropriate course of action?>
-
Ferxal knew there was a Sector Seven but hadn't taken a close look at it. His time had always been spent on smaller matters. When they reached the dome, he was so happy to see trees and grass, for a moment that was all he noticed. A slight smile briefly crossed his face as once again he had to contain himself and bring his neutral expression back. He wanted to run across the grass, and felt like he could do lap after lap around the small semblance of the Homeworld that resided in all dome ships.
After a moment or two, he couldn't help but notice more Humans and Hork-Bajir. Not morphed Andalites, but real ones, as Ossanlin explained. Quite possibly controllers, as the Prince's next question implied.
<My family has taught me that strong emotion can lead to weakness. That it can cause people to throw common sense to the wind for personal goals. I do not hate Yeerks, though that is only because I do not hate anyone. A detail that I was never able to convince Prince Foosal of. I do not believe Yeerks are evil by definition. They have different morals than us because of a completely different lifestyle. I do not think that genocide would be appropriate, though I'm not sure if a species that lives in others could coexist with sentient, free thinking species as a whole. There would be exceptions, to be sure, but genocide or confining them to pools seems as bad as allowing them involuntary hosts just because there likely won't be enough voluntaries to go around for a species that propagates as much as they do. It's a complicated situation, and just debating it with others can warrant punishment in some circles. Whether they're evil or not, and what to do if they aren't, seems more for philosophers to debate, instead of Warriors.>
<You have taken in Yeerks that I would assume have rebelled against the Empire? Your sympathies with these people, and distaste with Sector Seven has led you to break away and begin something else? I suppose the first thing I would wonder is how this alliance came to be, and are you certain these hosts are completely voluntary? No cases of brainwashing, memory wipes, Stockholm syndrome, or other trickery?>
-
Ossanlin takes a deep breath. This Warrior seems rather frank about everything, and gives little away in his tone of thought. At least he hadn't raised his tail. <I see.> Ossanlin turns back toward the central part of the dome, walking slowly again.
<Indeed, some of these humans and Hork-Bajir currently host Yeerks. Others are not hosted at this time. Some simply choose to remain uninfested...others lost their Yeerks in the attack on their base. As far as I am aware, there are no hosts here who are not either voluntary, or mentally unstable when uninfested. I have spoken with many of these individuals whilst their Yeerks feed. If any asked to remain uninfested, I would gladly assist them, but each reinfests of their own volition. They are all members of the Yeerk rebellion. I fought for years to develop a relationship with them...one of trust and cooperation...then in one fell swoop, Sector Seven wiped it all out.>
He turns his main eyes back on Ferxal. <I believe it is possible for all of our species to coexist in peace, and even to mutual benefit should we be able to see past all of the propaganda. This is what the Tyrennian has become...a demonstration of that possibility. A demonstration of what we can accomplish together.>
Ossanlin pauses for a long moment before going on. <Ferxal, I will not lie...your presence presents a difficulty. Every Andalite aboard this ship is loyal to our cause...each chose this path voluntarily, I wouldn't have had it any other way. You, however, have not been offered a choice, so I will offer one to you. We can conduct repairs on your Tail Fighter and render it serviceable at least as far as engines and life support are concerned. We can then conduct a memory modification upon you and place you back in space near the battle-field. You will remember nothing about the Tyrennian or your rescue...you will only remember falling unconscious and then waking up.> He pauses a moment before continuing. <Or...you may choose to remain with us. But you should note, Ferxal...trust is earned, not freely given. If you choose to stay, you will be relieved of your ARC, Shredder, comm, and any other pieces of equipment which might be used to cause harm. You will also be restricted to non-critical portions of the ship and will be assigned a security escort...at least until I'm convinced that it's unnecessary. I will give you some time to decide, but be warned, I will only offer this choice once. Should you choose to remain, you will not be able to leave again.>
At that moment, Ossanlin's comm tones in his head. He opens the channel.
<<Sir, we've received another distress beacon...Yeerkish in origin. It seems to be emanating from the Rebellion's rendezvous coordinates.>>
<<Very well, I'm on my way.>> He closes the comm and glances at Ferxal again. <You may remain in the Dome for the time being. Serid and Aurellia will continue to escort you. I must return to the bridge...there is a matter that requires my attention.>
Ossanlin turns and trots toward the bridge. The officers Tail Salute as he enters, and he returns the gesture. <Proceed to the rendezvous coordinates, Prince Lieutenant.>
Ossanlin calls up the sensor readings at his console and sees what appears to be a lone Bug Fighter...and very very damaged at that. So few...
-
Ferxal walked out to the dome, tasting the sweet grass. He closed his eyes in thought, wondering if he should choose to leave, or take this opportunity to do something different. Propaganda existed. Blind hatred existed. Honestly, he had been treated as a bit of an outcast for not being as adamant against controllers. He wanted to know what sparked Ossanlin's motivation to do this. What made him even start wanting to build relationships with Yeerks. Yet he was busy with something else, and left. He thought about perhaps attempting to approach one of the Human controllers to get information out of them, but his escort may disapprove of that.
Could he gain something from staying here? Would doing so rob him of honor, and betray his duty? Should he vote to stay, only to attempt to undermine the ship from the inside? Certainly that was possible. He practically never morphed, but he could acquire someone who had access to the bridge, and martyr himself to the cause. Yet Ossanlin was fighting possible corruption in his government. If sector Seven was all the Prince said it was, then they were the ones without honor. It would be nigh impossible to deal with the problem from the inside, and this ship and crew may be the best hope for dealing with it from the outside. There were many Andalites fighting the Empire, but who was fighting against a corrupt military that thought to take control away from the People with this war?
Either choice could bring regret in the future. He was thankful for having time to think. He gazed at the group of controllers, being tempted to speak with them, but who would be most willing to talk if he was allowed to do so? Who could tell him more about what was going on?
<Yes Prince Ossanlin.> Claxter said, flying the ship towards the last rendezvous. Having done this a few times before, he was already aware of the proper distance to stay to keep the rebel from fleeing. He wasn't sure they had a heading to go to after this stop, though.
-
Of the various humans in the Dome, Nefitt is nearest Ossanlin and Ferxal. He is sitting, cross-legged, on the grass, wearing the same faded brown scrubs that he arrived in. At eye level is a holoscreen, with the limited medical information he has been given access to displayed in Galard.
For the moment, he has abandoned his studies. Instead, he watches the Andalite captain with a curious, discerning gaze until he leaves. The new Andalite -- the one that had been rescued -- seems to be remaining in the Dome, under a guard.
Nefitt watches him for a moment or two longer, toying with one of Kevin's long dreadlocks as he tries to gauge the importance -- or danger -- of this new person. He doesn't hide the fact that he is staring, even moving the holoscreen aside a little so that he has a less obstructed view.
-
Ferxal noticed one of the Humans looking at him directly, and didn't look away when he noticed. This person might as well be where he starts, for better or worse, so he walks over. Serid and Aurellia watch him closely.
<Greetings. I am Ferxal Escoth Dhoraim. I was recently rescued from a damaged tail fighter, and have been informed that this is a rogue vessel with controllers on it. I would like to know more about what is going on her, and was hoping someone would be willing to speak with me. Apparently there is corruption within my government, and a group of Andalites has attacked a group of Yeerks that actually oppose the Empire. This action seems highly impractical to me.>
-
Nefitt's bushy eyebrows raise a little at being approached so directly. He pauses before responding, sizing up the Andalite. From his position on the ground, he seems much larger and more formidable than he might otherwise, and Nefitt is still unused to the creatures.
"What government isn't corrupt?" he finally says, swiping his holoscreen away entirely and giving Ferxal a small, bland smile. "And what Yeerk would live aboard an Andalite ship unless there were no other option?"
With a small grunt, Nefitt shifts his weight to his knees and pushes himself to his feet. His host's joints crack and pop at the movement, making him wince a little. The human can't be older than forty, but Nefitt moves him with the care an old man.
"Nefitt Six-Three-Four," he says once he is standing. "My host is Kevin Walker." He extends one hand, offering to shake. The skin on his arm was once a slightly tanned pinkish color, but has long since been covered by ink. Swirling tattoos, in a variety of odd patterns, make their way from his wrist upward, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his scrubs.
-
<A government that values honor and duty over selfishness and greed is one that it not corrupt.> Ferxal said, though it was possible Neffit meant the question to be rhetorical. <Unfortunately many governments, given power over laws, forget that they are meant to serve the People. Not rule over them.>
He's unfamiliar with shaking hands, but tentatively reaches out his hand in the same manner and waits to see what Neffit does. <I suppose being here is not ideal for you. Prince Ossanlin said he had tried for years to develop trust within that group. Do you and your friends trust him?>
-
Varit waits, his breathing growing shallower and shallower. His sensors are flickering in and out of usefulness, and he begins to wonder if he might be hallucinating the bugs that seem to crawl out of the deck and his flesh, but that have no flavor at all.
Aetheas steps purposefully from his quarters, moving quickly towards the dome. As he steps in, he cranes all four eyes upwards, drinking in the curvature, and the main Shredder beyond it, searching out details he's never noticed before. With a stalk eye, he skims a data pad that he now has in his hands.
<Hmph,> he says. <I guess it really is designed that way. That seems... inefficient.> Since he's been given access to many of the Tyrennian's classified files and logs, he's been frequently checking parts of the ship, or comparing what he sees to his notes, or studying past tactics and battles of the Mark III dome ships to verify that the craft really have the advertised performance.
<Unless...> he comments, his eyes now tracing the Shredder down, past the point where it's no longer visible. He turns and walks briskly towards the dome's exit, flipping through the data pad as he goes. He pays no notice to the Warrior and the rebel engaged in conversation as he walks by.
<Aha,> he says, stopping in his tracks. The Shredder was designed to draw slightly more power and coolant than necessary directly from the main line, and though he can't find anything explicitly stating the reason, he's beginning to suspect, thanks to the circulation route it takes, that it's used to both allow the Shredder to overcharge itself if necessary, and to add stability and rigidity to the tail-like structure via slight magnetic and centripetal forces. Some of the ship's systems have this mark-- this almost elegant artistry-- taking into account variables he would never have thought of. Though he knows the ship had been designed by a dedicated team of engineers, he imagines a single master designer, and he imagines himself getting to know this mysterious, brilliant Andalite better the more he knows the ship. He often finds himself holding conversations in his head with this imaginary engineer, gushing endlessly or asking questions for which the imagined Andalite could only give him the answers Aetheas himself already knows or suspects. It isn't terribly productive, he supposes, but it does help him to shift his own perspective of the why behind many of the Tyrennian's design decisions.
He calls up the ship's current log and mechanical stress schematics. The Tyrennian is indeed accelerating, and he watches with fascination as the tail-like Shredder resists the flexing effects of the motion slightly more than they would given material strength alone. Or... so he supposes. He'd have to run simulations later to be sure there was any effect at all.
Finally, his eyes catch sight of Nefitt, and... and... and an Andalite he doesn't recognize. There aren't supposed to be other male Andalites in the Rebellion, and they certainly hadn't docked or he'd have been informed. Wouldn't he? So here, in the middle of space, where could this newcomer have come from?
A quick glance around reveals that the newcomer is, in fact, being watched. Interesting. A stowaway would be in the brig, but this... this must be... what then? His mind, still preoccupied by the days and days of endless study, seems to be moving very slowly with regard to everything else...
-
"I cannot speak for my friends," Nefitt says, grasping Ferxal's hand and giving it a firm, brief handshake. "But no, I do not trust him. I do not trust any Andalites." His grim smile returns. "No offense meant, of course."
-
Ferxal put his hand back to his side, figuring he had just learned what a standard Human greeting was. <I take no offense. I have been given the choice to stay or leave when my ship is repaired. I suppose a dutiful Warrior would return to his people and resume his mission of defeating the Empire, but an honorable Warrior might investigate this accusation of corruption. Both duty and honor are important for my people, as I'm sure you're aware, though there have been famous cases where those things are thrown aside because of hatred or arrogance. Or both. I pride myself on not giving in to such vices.>
<Perhaps the trust Prince Ossanlin spoke of was the trust of leaders within your rebellion. I suppose if the time has not yet come, a moment of decision will happen where the Yeerks and Andalites on this ship may depart or stay together.>
-
"Maybe," Nefitt says, shrugging. "I'm not one of the leaders, and I don't make those decisions. I'm a medic. I go where I'm needed."
He licks his lips, eyes flickering up and down the Andalite's body. "If you think your government is free of corruption, you are a fool," he says, bluntly. "No government is free of such things, regardless of its initial intentions. Duty and honor are as false of pretenses for the Andalites as freedom and righteousness are for my people."
-
<Warriors often don't have time to think about possible government corruption, though I have always known in the back of my mind that it was possible. Hatred of Yeerks has been so ingrained into us over the decades that many literally think of them as a disease instead of sentient beings with dramatically different lifestyles that may just be victims of their government as much as anyone. Apparently it has allowed Sector Seven to weasel its way into having more power than it should, and I do not wish our people to defeat the Empire, only to be stabbed in the back by corrupt warmongers.>
-
Nefitt makes a small snorting sound. "It sounds as if you have already made your decision regarding this place, then," he says with a shrug. "And regarding the Andalite that is in charge here."
He steps back, giving himself a little more space, his own discomfort being near Andalites showing. "The question that remains," he murmurs, "is how you feel about us. I certainly have no intentions of being stabbed in the back by another dapsen Andalite." His dark eyes hold Ferxal's gaze, issuing a silent challenge.
-
<Prince Ossanlin is a reputable Andalite, and I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Unless, of course, I find that his motives are based more on emotion or possibly paranoia instead of rationality. I can't say much about what I feel about Yeerks, aside from what I've already said. I also do not yet know if your rebel faction is doing anything deceitful to ensure that your hosts are voluntary.>
<You seem to be implying that you tried placing trust in Andalites before, and it failed. How so?>
-
<I do not wish to linger here any longer than necessary.> Ossanlin glances over at Keslin. <There seems to be a single fighter at this point...would a transmission from you be enough?> He begins the sequence to open an audio-only channel with the fighter.
-
Aetheas wanders towards Nefitt and the new Andalite curiously, trying to get his mind on the situation at hand.
<Who are you?> he asks the Andalite bluntly from a short distance away. His tone conveys neither apprehension nor accusation; this is merely a curiosity.
Varit is startled from a half-sleep by a beep from the console. Where is he again?
Oh, right. Dying in space. He shakes himself to get the blood flowing and takes several deep breaths. It helps. A little. Less than it had earlier.
His ship doesn't recognize the origin of the incoming transmission, but at this point, it hardly matters. He accepts it. It's audio only, which may be good sign-- the Andalites and Imperials tend to like to show their faces. He finds himself hoping that he may have finally found another Rebel. He's been pushing his growing despair down for days now, but with this small burst of hope, it's threatening to break free and drown him. Someone else must have survived...
-
Ferxal spares a stalk eye for the new Andalite. <I am Ferxal Escoth Dhoraim. I was recently rescued from a critically damaged fighter, and have been left here under watch after your captain told me what is going on here.>
He noticed something was wrong with the Andalite's tail, and gave it a once-over with his stalk eye. <A deformed tail? Such a pity. You seem to be well ranked, though. Out of necessity, I suppose. You must have comeptent skills elsewhere, or this ship is critically understaffed.>
-
Nefitt laughs quietly. "I assure you, I have done nothing to coerce my host. In fact, technically speaking, he isn't voluntary, though Kevin is a rare case. You will find that most of the humans here are rather close with their Yeerk friends."
His already sour expression darkens further at Aetheas' entrance into the conversation. He glances over at the young Andalite, then back a Ferxal, eyebrows raising. "What does his tail have anything to do with his rank? How often do Andalites resort to tail fighting in a war determined by Dracon cannons and Dome Ships?"
-
<Tail fighting is the oldest and truest form of combat for Andalites.> Ferxal said. Most andalites would likely swell with pride at this, but as usual his voice and face remain neutral. <I doubt the war will be decided with firearms and cannons. You need ground forces to hold points of interest and supply the deathtraps commonly referred to as spaceships. While they are needed for getting from planet to planet, I somewhat disdain these metal casings that serve to protect us from cold space. I prefer grass beneath my feet and wind against my fur as I charge into battle blade against blade. There is no better form of combat, in my opinion.>
<Forgive my tangent. It is a subject I feel strongly about. Your host either is voluntary, or he is not. If he is not, then why do you inhabit him? What is this "technically" that you speak of?> He wondered if this was one of those insane hosts that Ossanlin spoke of.
-
Keslin nods, pulling his attention away from the holoscreen. His expression is grim as he glances at the Andalite captain. "An audio hail should be sufficient," he says. He doesn't sound as though he is harboring much hope for the single Bug Fighter.
Nefitt gives Ferxal a thin smile. "That is none of your business, Andalite," he says lightly. "And your tail is no match for my Dracon, I guarantee you that. Old customs and traditions are simply that. Old. You can never hope to win a war by relying on such things."
-
<I do have a shredder myself, but I have no need to rely on it. I can tell that without your dracon, you would be all but powerless. Perhaps that is why you have such confidence in your firearm skill. What other combat skills would you have against an Andalite or Hork-Bajir?>
He decides not to push the Yeerk on its host. He didn;t know which was worse. allowing a Yeerk to keep an involuntary but insane host under control, or to allow an insane person the freedom to do whatever unpredictable thing a crazy person could do.
-
Ossanlin nods. <Very good. The channel is open...if you would.> He gestures toward the front display which shows a decrepit bug fighter on its last legs.
-
"You miss the point, Andalite," Nefitt responds simply. "I would stand no chance if the two of us were to enter combat unarmed. But that is not the landscape of this war, and it never has been. My weapon renders your tail useless."
Keslin nods grimly, turning back to the holoscreen. He clears his throat before sending out an audio transmission:
"This is Keslin Five-Seven-Four," he says, reaching up to run a hand through Chris' shaggy blonde hair. The past few months have aged his host, and there are small lines around his eyes that were not there before. They crinkle as he surveys the screen. "If you are able to respond, open a channel, please. I am sending along my credentials."
He enters in an encrypted code, one that will serve to identify him as one of the rebel leaders, and then pauses. "Just have to wait and see if he picks up," he reports to Ossanlin with a small shrug, trying to ignore the sinking in his stomach that has accompanied every meager rendezvous point. By the Kandrona, so many lost...
-
<I have been in quite a number of battles, so I can attest that my tail is far from useless. Just as Hork-Bajir blades are not useless. The scars that adorn my body are not those of dracon beams, after all. Perhaps when Humans fight each other, they prefer to fight at range, and indeed Andalite and Hork-Bajir have fought at range, but there is still quite a bit of melee combat.>
<I am not even sure why we're having this argument. I believe I was only commenting on a personal distaste in cramped fighters, and my beliefs that deformities are bad. Have you had experiences in the past with other Andalites that wrong you, despite efforts to gain their trust?>
-
Aetheas hardly notices Farxel's disdain towards him based on his deformity. He's lived his entire life under that sentiment. <The Captain prefers to promote the most qualified individuals, vecol or otherwise,> he says matter-of-factly. He listens, for a bit, to the volleying back and forth between Farxel and Nefitt. He's fully aware of Nefitt's situation, and feels no need to explain it to this... overly-curious new arrival. If he keeps poking around, Farxel may prove to be a security risk. Aetheas resolves to keep an eye on him.
As for the ranged-versus-melee debate... this is an argument he's heard before. It's an argument he's taken part of many times. Perhaps it's his own deformity, but he's always held a definitive bias in this matter.
<Andalites are adept at close combat,> he says directly to Farxel, <but if we are unable to match our foes at range, or especially in space, we will never be given the opportunity to use it. Our tails must be our last resort. If we make a point of relying on them, we have no options to fall back to.>
<Who is your Prince?> he asks. Over the weeks preceding his promotion, he'd been attempting to map out Sector Seven's reach within the Electorate and the military, including a list of Princes he believed may have direct or indirect connections. He has nothing but hunches and guesswork to date, but Ossanlin seems to be of the opinion that they are an extremely powerful organization. Best to make sure Farxel won't somehow alert them to the Tyrennian's existence.
Varit's spirits leap for a moment at the sound of Chris's voice. So someone else had made it! And if Keslin is the one transmitting, that could mean other survivors. Keslin would be a choice for speaker of many large groups.
Many, but not all. Reven had never been shy about speaking for the Rebellion when he could... which may mean that he currently could not.
Still, though... Survivors! If only... he checks the code sent along with the message. Verified. It looks like this is, indeed, Keslin.
<<Or an Imperial,>> his host points out, pulling himself out of his preoccupation with whether or not to eat the rest of the bones in the back now. <<An Imperial could easily fake that by infesting Chris.>>
<<But we were attacked by Andalites,>> Varit says, <<And there's no way they could. Keslin would alert us with the code.>> He punches the controls, then grunts and smacks the console, <<I can't tell where the transmission is coming from.>>
"This is Varit Zero-Seven-Zero," he responds. He's instantly aware that the sound of his Taxxon host's garbled Galard will not be what Keslin is expecting-- he himself is startled by the sound. He hurries to transmit his own encoded verification. Keslin! Keslin, who else is alive? Keslin, help! he thinks, but doesn't say, instead sticking to a more professional delivery. "My ship is damaged and my supplies are depleted," he says. "I require assistance if possible."
-
<That is pragmatic.> Ferxal said in regards to Aetheas' promotion. He didn't really have disdain for vecols. He pitied them, but some even disliked pity. This one seemed to be the latter type, which was respectable. <My Prince's name is Foosal Serek Lishoth. He has always been one of the more fanatic Princes, prone to far too much emotion for my tastes. Not that I had a whole lot of choice in my original Prince, or have a habit of complaining. I have attempted to transfer once, but he made efforts to ensure I was rejected and penalized me for it. He wanted all of his charges to be as extreme as possible, though it doesn't always work. I personally try not to let myself be guided by emotion at all, much less the kind of blind hatred that he had. There was also this aristh that was rather soft and timid. Prince Foosal tried to make a proper Warrior out of him, but when it came time for Claxter Karmesh Sinopul to show us what he was made of in a real battle, he fled as a coward.>
<Admittedly it was one of the most gruesome battles I have ever heard of, and everyone knew he wasn't really ready, but cowardice is about the worst thing that someone can show. It betrays both honor and duty, two things that are crucial in society and the military. I do not know where he is now, or even if he is still alive, and I don't really care. We were not friends. Neither of us really had many friends under Prince Foosal.>
<I apologize if that was too much. I am sometimes accused of being too blunt or frank about my feelings. I rarely practice tact.>
-
Ossanlin's eyes widen at the sound of a Taxxon voice at the other end of the transmission. He glances at Keslin questioningly...a Taxxon? Truly? He doesn't make the face he feels like making...but the widening of his eyes is as good as a human twisting his face into a look of surprised disgust. How by the Homeworld could they accommodate a Taxxon?
-
Keshin's efforts seemed mostly fruitless. Most of the other members of the rebellion in the crew quarters were either too busy among themselves to talk to him, or were outright disturbed at the thought of speaking to the turelek who had given a number of them close calls. Keshin rubbed Joanne's head, tired. <What do we do?>
<Honest, Kess...so far our two friends seem to be Andalites. Aetheas an' that Claxter fellow. The War-Prince we nearly offed. We're best headin' to the Dome. I think your own kind ain't gonna work for a while.>
<....I've never been in that position before.>
<You've never been away from the Empire or your job. I've remade myself a couple times now. Let's try it.>
Keshin had heard that many members of the Tyrennian's crew had been promoted since the high-strung officer he had seen had gone into shock. It would be interesting to see how they were getting along, if awkward. Instead of Ossanlin's plan to unite Yeerks and Andalites working out, it seems as if the two groups were still split in twain. Keshin entered the Dome , breathing in the sharp air of the home world and wondering if Joanne's point stood.
-
Aetheas's eyes widen for a moment when Ferxal mentions Claxter's alleged 'cowardice.' The odds against Ferxal being rescued by the very ship on which Claxter now served were... well... he ran some quick calculations in his head. The Andalite military's most sizable serving population was aboard dome ships, though they were a large minority at best, and their numbers had been declining in recent years. This ship is being run by a skeleton crew, which significantly decreases Ferxal's odds of having encountered Claxter here. Then there's the additional calculation involving how likely Ferxal would have been to have been alone, unrescued by other Andalites or uncaptured by Yeerks, and how unlikely it is that the Tyrennian would be passing through the area during the short period in which Ferxal would no doubt survive, and... and... and... and about a thousand other variables.
The odds, he decides, are essentially none. His eyes narrow again. Aetheas's first thought is that Ferxal must be a plant, a mole, sent to bring down the Tyrennian... but no. If anyone had known they'd be here... if Sector Seven had known the Tyrennian would be here... they would have sent an armada, not a Warrior who's far too forward with his thoughts.
Wouldn't they?
He wonders for a moment if maybe Captain Ossanlin's paranoia about Sector Seven might be influencing his own thought processes.
And Claxter... There was Claxter. Aetheas has never been one to run from a fight, whether it be with Andalites or with Yeerks. Granted, he's never been part of a real battle, but he imagines...
Claxter. Claxter has been his mentor and his role model. Aetheas finds himself questioning every lesson... every word... if Claxter is himself incapable of the courage required of a Warrior, how can he be expected to teach that which is required of a Warrior?
He realizes Ferxal will be expecting a response. He's been standing without speaking for nearly a minute now
<Is that intended as a statement of Prince Foosal's incompetence, or Claxter's unteachable nature?> he asks of Ferxal's accusation. His words are short; his mind is elsewhere.
-
<My first thought would be to lay blame on Prince Foosal, though the fact that no other individual turned and ran from the same battle is noticeable. Not that it matters, really.> Ferxal said, not really caring to think about how much blame one should put on the other.
<<Don't be too bothered about what this Warrior says about Prince Lieutenant Claxter.>> Serid said privately to Aetheas as he listed to the conversation while standing watch over Ferxal. <<He acted bravely at the Corvis facility, and is not the same individual that this Ferxal remembers.>>
-
Keslin himself jerks at the sound of Varit's garbled Taxxon speech. "Varit?" he asks, frowning.
<<I thought he had a human host,>> Chris murmurs.
<<So did I. This could be...complicated.>>
Clearing his throat, Keslin does his best to hide his surprise. "Varit," he says, "it's good to hear you're alive. We can rendezvous with your ship and bring you to safety." He licks his lips. "Not to alarm you, but we are hailing from an Andalite vessel. I can explain the details once you are safe on board, but I am going to have to ask that you trust me for now. Understood?"
Nefitt watches the Andalites volley back and forth in conversation -- some of which he is included in and some of which he isn't. Frowning a little, he takes a step back, clearly sensing the shift in focus. Keeping a wary eye on the Andalites he lowers himself to the ground, leaning against a tree and making himself comfortable. Pulling his computer cube out he resumes reviewing the holoscreens from earlier, keeping one 'ear' on the conversation.
-
Aetheas's eyes widen a little at Ferxal's apparent dismissal of the subject of Claxter's desertion. Of course, that which has suddenly rocked Aetheas's world is old news to this Warrior.
He turns and nods a stalk eye towards Serid in acknowledgement. He is, of course, correct. Claxter has never shown himself to be incapable or cowardly that Aetheas has seen in the short time they've known each other.
But then... his doubt remains. How well does he know Claxter? For that matter, how well does Ossanlin know him? What evidence is there that he won't cut and run again at a moment's notice?
He seems about to say something more, but instead he hesitates, turns a distracted salute in Ferxal's direction, and strides towards his quarters again, his mind buzzing, the Tyrennian's schematics and maneuvering history momentarily pushed from his brain. He's intending to learn everything the computer has to offer on Ferxal, Foosal... and Claxter.
Before he can walk very far, however, he's struck by a thought, and his pace slows. He hesitates a moment, then sends a thought-speech message to Claxter's personal inbox, to be listened to at Claxter's leisure. It says only, <Prince Claxter, what can you tell me of one Ferxal-Escoth-Dhoraim? When you have a moment, I would like your perspective.>
<<An Andalite vessel?>> wonders Varit.
<<An Andalite vessel,>> echoes his host, his valves beginning to pump his blood faster. <<They stole an Andalite ship. They escaped. Or maybe... maybe they're prisoners...>>
<<But the code...>> Varit reminds Resseliss, fighting to control his host's panic instinct. His vision goes dark for a few moments, and when it finally clears, he finds himself slumped on the floor. There's no longer enough oxygen in this fighter for a panicking Taxxon. <<No choice,>> he says apologetically. <<No time.>>
"Keslin," he chokes out, "understood. If you say it's safe... I'll trust your judgment." He pauses, then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, says, "I sure hope they stock rib-eyes on that thing."
<<With the Rebels I might have been spared,>> says Resseliss fearfully, <<but there's no way the Andalites will let a Taxxon live.>>
-
Claxter had set the ship at a long orbital path around the rendezvous, as always, and was waiting until the next ship came in. Assuming it would. There was a notice that Aetheas had sent him a message. About Ferxal.
<Ferxal was an old Warrior I knew before I started working for Prince Ossanlin.> He said in his message. <He's like a robot. No emotion, little in social conduct. He just trains and fights. He decided to specialize in tail fighting instead of trying to balance his skills like me. He's also a bit more claustrophobic than I am, because he has an active disdain for Tail Fighters. The Dome is really the only part of the ship he enjoyed. He's cold and ruthless, but unlikely to attack anyone unprovoked. I guess I'll have to talk to him when I get off, though I doubt it will be fun. I didn't exactly leave my former Prince on the best of terms.>
Ferxal let Aetheas go. The Yeerk was back to his computer. He decided to walk around a bit. Drink some water. He found an open space and decided to stretch and practice maneuvers. He invited his escort to practice with him, but they decided they didn't want him coming at them with a practice strike that was a little more than just practice.
-
Ossanlin pushes down his initial revulsion. Taxxons have always bothered him. It was illogical, Ossanlin knows, to dislike a species for aesthetic reasons...but the Taxxons had always seemed an...aberration of life. Regardless, it seems the Tyrennian will soon be playing host to one, though what it would eat is beyond him.
<Prince-Lieutenant, bring us in close. Use the Gravimetric Tractor to pull the Fighter into the irregular bay.> He nods at Claxter before turning to Esarvit. <The Bridge command is yours, Esarvit.> He turns his main eyes on Keslin. <Shall we?> He gestures at the door that leads out into the hallway, Dome, and beyond.
He opens a channel with Serid. <Command Warrior, dispatch three security escorts to the irregular hangars.>
He glances at Keslin again as he begins to move toward the door. <<It will be all but impossible to host a Taxxon....>>
-
Claxter starts pulling the dome ship closer to the fighter, lining the ships up to ease the bug into the irregular bay. He didn't really know what to think of a Taxxon being on board. Obviously it would have to be watched closely. Did the rebels even trust their own Taxxons? He would assume not, but maybe they had ways to keep safe while also letting the Taxxon have some freedom to move around. Still, his thoughts were mopre on Ferxal. What was he going to do about his old Dome neighbor? He kind of wished he was off duty right now, so he could it it out of the way and not be distracted. He activated the tractor and opened the bay door to start bringing the ship in.
-
"Stand by, Varit," Keslin says. He steps away from his station and follows Ossanlin, all but ignoring the other Andalites on the bridge. "I know," he says. "We could barely sustain them on base, though they had their uses." He frowns. "Varit does not typically have a Taxxon host, I don't believe. I...will have to ask around, though. He is not a Pirate, and I am not as familiar with him as others."
<<Reven would know,>> Chris murmurs, finishing Keslin's train of thought silently, bringing a familiar but still-painful pang to both of them.
-
Ossanlin makes his way through the Dome. <You realize I will either have to imprison this Taxxon, or keep it under constant and heavy guard...we have no meat aboard aside from that which is still living....>
He continues to the ramp-well, descending several levels, emerging in the hangars. He makes his way toward the irregular hangar. <Do you have any ideas?> He keeps a stalk eye on Keslin.
-
"If we plan on keeping him, we will have to obtain meat," Keslin says simply. "Taxxons can survive on the same protein packs as humans for a very limited time, but their digestive systems are much more demanding than a human's is. Honestly, it's a miracle this Taxxon is still alive at all." He sighs a little, shoulders slouching as he walks. He can't help but feel responsible for even the Taxxon's fate, little as he likes Taxxons. "This Taxxon deserves to live as much as any human or Hork-Bajir," he finally says. "We need to find a way to make that happen. If we play favorites, we're no better than the Empire."
He hesitate, then adds, "But, yes, he should be kept under a heavy guard. For everyone's safety."
-
Ossanlin arrives at the hangar as the ship is being towed into the hangar. <This presents difficulties we may not be able to deal with.> Ossanlin says matter-of-factly. <Stasis may be the only solution to preserve its life.> Ossanlin waits for the Taxxon controller to emerge from the fighter.
-
Aetheas listens to Claxter's message with little surprise. Claxter is definitely describing the Warrior that Aetheas has just spoken to. In spite of his fresh, nagging doubts about Claxter's own honesty, Aetheas felt somewhat reassured by Claxter's statement that Ferxal wouldn't attack unprovoked. He hesitates another moment, then sends the Prince another message,
<Would Ferxal have any reason to lie about you? Would he have any reason to seek you out? Would he have any reason to hold a grudge?> They sound, he thinks, like fairly professional questions, but he can feel that he's asking more to sate his own curiosity than his is for the safety of the ship.
Varit catches sight of a ship approaching out the window. Initially his insides turn and his hearts pump harder-- it's Andalite!-- but its a matter of moments before he feels himself growing lightheaded again.
<<It's just a tailfighter,>> his host tells him reassuringly, recognizing the overall shape of the craft. <<We can take them.>> Varit is startled by how complacent Resseliss sounds-- the lack of air is affecting his brain, he realizes.
<<I don't think...>> Varit begins, but he stops as the shape grows larger and larger outside the window. This is no tailfighter. This thing is huge. It keeps growing and growing.
<<It's a dome ship,>> he says, his growing panic battling with his lightheadedness. The hull shudders as a tractor latches on.
<<We should run,>> says Resseliss some moments later. The larger ship is enveloping them now
<<We should,>> Varit replies, glancing at the controls. They're so far away-- he reaches for them, from his spot lying on the floor. When did he end up on the floor? It's so comfortable... was it really worth getting up and moving all that way just to avoid dying?
He's still working up the energy to hit the throttle when a gentle bump signifies that the damaged bug has touched down on the floor of the hangar.
-
<He was always pretty honest. Maybe a bit too frank with his feelings. I hope he hasn't been seeking me out. I wouldn't say it's impossible that Prince Foosal, my former Prince, might send someone to have me killed. Still, that was a while ago. If something like that were going to happen, it would be sooner than this. I don't think Ferxal holds grudges. He's all about keeping any emotions contained, and looking at things from a practical viewpoint. That's why I don't think he'll attack anyone unprovoked, even a controller.>
-
It didn't take long before Keshin spotted a familiar face. It was that Andalite he'd spoken to some time ago, the one with the limp tail who seemed afraid that he'd nearly killed the War-Prince. They'd had a few conversations more recently, but nothing complicated. However, he'd heard that the Andalite had been promoted. If he wanted to get close to the Dome Ship's plans or even to an end to their isolation, it might be a fine idea to befriend the officer. Still, the Andalite was wary of him....
<He looks warier than usual, man. Somethin's buggin' the sucker.>
<I think, from the chatter around, that new people are entering the ship. Weird new people.>
<Only one way to find out.>
Keshin wandered towards the unusual Andalite and spoke. ".... Aetheas, wasn't it? We heard you got promoted after what happened to your superior. Everyone seems..." Keshin looks about him. "...tense today."
-
"As long as the life is preserved," Keslin says sternly. "I won't have any of my people sacrificed. And this Taxxon is one of my people."
<<Gross.>>
<<Not helpful, Chris.>>
Keslin waits for the Varit to exit the fighter, rocking back on his heels and frowning at the old ship. It seems impossibly small, despite the fact that he called such a ship home for nearly ten years.
The minutes tick by and Keslin becomes more and more uneasy. "Perhaps we should contact him," Keslin suggests, stepping towards the ship and glancing back to Ossanlin. "Your thought-speak may be more effective than my screaming through the hull, but let him know I'm here, eh? The last thing I want is a panicked Taxxon."
-
<Panic is likely still the lesser concern where a Taxxon is involved.> Ossanlin signals to the security team that Serid had dispatched to surround the fighter's exit.
<Ho, Varit...I am Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel, Captain of this vessel. Keslin is here with me. We need you to open your hatch and emerge slowly.> Ossanlin commands his own Warriors to place their Shredders on stun setting, and watches as one of them has to do so...that shouldn't be the case, they all knew to use stun settings onboard, but there was a lot of unease these days. They had been informed that they would be escorting a Taxxon...that meant everything to some.
Ossanlin directs a stalk-eye at Keslin. <<I do not like to see life snuffed out either, but let us not forget that the Taxxons voluntarily offered themselves to the Empire.>>
-
"And Yeerks voluntarily created the Empire. And Andalites willingly destroyed a planet full of innocents in the Hork-Bajir war," Keslin returns, glancing at Ossanlin. "Yet here we are." He raises his light eyebrows, keepiing an eye on the hatch. "You should know better, Ossanlin, than to judge an entire species based on the actions of its masses. I admire any Taxxon that is capable of valuing independent, free thought in light of their more basic instincts. They may be unsavory creatures, but they are not all alike."
-
<<And you, of all people, should realize that I do not judge others based on species alone...but Taxxons are different. They are of one mind...literally, a hive mind. I don't see how one could ever trust a creature like that when the mind once decided to favor the Empire.>> Ossanlin falls silent for a few moments, still waiting. The comment about the Hork-Bajir had been a bit of a low blow...one Andalite had been truly responsible for that, and he was now trapped in a living hell as his just desserts.
<<If this one is capable of independent thought, it is an aberration, or perhaps an evolution...somethi ng like a Hork-Bajir seer. As such, that alone would demand its preservation.>> Ossanlin furrows his brow. <<If it ever emerges...>>
He opens a comm channel with Varekil and requests his presence in the hangar...perhaps the controller was injured, and if that was the case...what in the Homeworld could they do for an injured Taxxon?
-
Aetheas's hearts sink ever-so-slightly when Claxter confirms Ferxal's honest nature. So he had deserted as a coward, he seems to be admitting. He resolves to watch future exchanges between Claxter and Ferxal closely.
He jumps when he's addressed directly by... by that Keshin creature. It's normally nearly impossible to sneak up on an Andalite, but he'd been lost in his thoughts. He tenses up-- to say he's still not comfortable having this particular Yeerk aboard would be an understatement.
He nods a stalk-eye and turns to walk the dome's perimeter. <The rendezvous we check today is last location at which we can reasonably expect to find members of the Rebellion,> he says stiffly. <We have so far found one Andalite Warrior,> he gestures vaguely in Ferxal's direction, <but no Rebels that I am aware of. We were hoping to find the remainder of the Rebellion today.> He glances up, through the dome at the stars. <I am unsure whether it is a good sign that we are still in normal space.>
Varit happens to look at the simulated air-pressure gauge on one of the displays in the ship, and notices that now, rather than creeping slowly down, it's creeping slowly upwards. Good. That's good.
Finally, finally, he works up the energy to stand, but the effort leaves him panting. How had he ever moved so easily, when every movement is a painful battle?
He opens the hatch.
He's immediately hit by a breeze as air fills the damaged Bug. The sudden increase in pressure causes him to let out a short, surprised shriek of pain as his body recaptures its precious, precious air.
He stands, hunched against the console, marveling at the fact that he can breathe again. Air! Air had never felt so good!
Within moments, though, he begins to take stock of his situation. He's aboard an Andalite ship... and he's already being called out. For the briefest moment, he's tempted to power up and try to blast his way out of here... to grab a Dracon and go down fighting... but no. No, he will have to live to fight another day. Besides, Keslin had said... had said...
He heads for the open hatch and stops. The sight of Chris, standing, surrounded by Andalites... it's a shocking dichotomy, to say the least, especially after it was the Andalites who'd attacked them in the first place.
<<We're dead,>> says Resseliss, eying the big Andalite standing closest to Chris.
Varit slowly makes his way out of the ship. He stumbles as he crosses the threshold, nearly falling over. Still weak from the lack of air. He raises his claws, showing that he's unarmed, and looks questioningly at the Andalite guards, awaiting their move.
-
"After what we've heard about Sector Seven, I'm less than thrilled about our current location too," states Keshin with a shrug, wandering closer to Aetheas and maintaining eye contact with his main eyes. "....I can't figure that entire situation out. We unintentionally got dragged into the War-Prince's **** fight with the Andalite Temser. "
"By the way..." states Keshin, probing for information. "...have any of the Rebellion members who have come on earlier brought supplies with them, or is it just the members themselves?"
Keshin and Joanne's medical situation was continuing to get more problematic. It was starting to look like he was going to have to either beg Ossanlin for the use of an Escafil device, or find something on this ship that was worth enough to Salem to save Joanne's life. He still had a bit of time, but it was not enough.
-
Ossanlin represses the recoil he feels at seeing the Taxxon. The things were...well...they were disturbing, and the fact that the hive mind had chosen the Empire sets Ossanlin on his guard. Well, more-so than usual. Ossanlin had noticed the loud intake of air the ship had taken when the controller had popped the hatch. So...this one had been nearly dead. He represses the niggling little thought that it would've been better for them to have been just a few minutes later with their rescue.
<Your name is Varit, I am told. Once again, I am Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel, Captain of the Tyrennian. Please understand, the guards are not here to hold you prisoner...they are here to keep everyone safe.> He allows the implications to hang in the air without voicing them, and falls silent, waiting for Keslin to speak his piece to the controller.
-
Xevec and Derrel hadn't been doing a whole lot in the past week. They hadn't been trusted enough to keep busy with helping, like Derrel preferred to do. He usually liked to be seen being useful, even though he did live with people that didn't demand that you always be useful to be willing to have you around. Xevec himself hadn't gotten far in developing some sort of escape plan in case things went wrong, but he was starting to get the idea that these Andalites weren't just hauling everyone back to Corvus or some other dismal place. They were starting to settle down, though Xevec was never completely settled even with people Derrel was certain weren't going to stab him in the back as soon as he turned around.
They were supposed to reach the last rendezvous point today, so he went out to the dome to see if anyone else was joining them. He noticed a new Andalite face that Serid and Aurellia were hanging out with. He had made sure to get everyone's name, as opposed to some controllers that just called them Andalites. If there was any info he could get on individuals, at least names weren't hard. After a moment, he realized that the two were watching him more closely than people normally did around others. Maybe they just picked up a new guy and were on watch. He kept an eye on them from afar, wondering if he could use this somehow.
-
Keslin's saving grace in hiding his revulsion is in his practice. Years of living around -- and within -- Taxxons have lent him a tenuous understanding of the creatures.
<<They're still ugly as hell,>> Chris says, picking up on Keslin's thoughts.
Drawing himself up straighter, Keslin takes a step forward, towards Varit. His smile is only a little forced -- he is, truly, glad to see another one of his people alive. Even under such complicated circumstances.
"Varit," he says, nodding. He raises his own hands, keeping them far from his Dracon. "It is good to see you alive, cousin."
He takes another step forward, remaining wary of the Taxxon's teeth, but wanting to show Ossanlin that he trusts Varit. "These people...these Andalites," Keslin continues, "they have helped us. Those of us that survived. They are providing us a home, for now." His eyes look over Varit, curious. "I thought you had a human host, when I last saw you." He inclines his head a little. "I'm afraid I cannot recall your current host's name, but I am grateful to see that the Taxxons will continue to be represented within the rebellion."
-
Aetheas fixes Keshin with a steady gaze. He really is having trouble understanding this Yeerk. Here is someone who has, by their own admission, attempted to kill Ossanlin in the past. Not just defame or hurt or humiliate-- actually kill one of the greatest War-Princes in the history of the Andalite people. And yet not only is she still alive, but she seems to be more-or-less on Ossanlin's good side.
Aetheas finds himself wondering, not for the first time, about the Captain's mental health.
He shakes off the thought quickly. It's far too late to begin doubting Ossanlin now.
Isn't it?
<I am sorry to have dragged you into this fight,> he says curtly, <but you may rest easier knowing you've made your way to the right side.>
His brow furrows for a moment as he thinks, <there have been a number of supplies brought aboard with the Rebels we've picked up. Whatever they could carry with them, I believe one of them said. That seems apt.> He thinks for a moment, <I believe Keslin and Myitt were given charge of most of the supplies.> By some more willingly than others, he thinks with a frown. There are some interesting dynamics at play in the Rebellion, which he's not yet had the time to analyze properly. Aetheas knows he can, and should, see what he can offer Keshin... but then, Keshin's not a Rebel, exactly, and Aetheas is a bit eager to get rid of her. His research on the ship has kept him from researching Keshin's history with Ossanlin as he'd like.
Varit looks around, only just beginning to take this situation in as his head clears. Oxygen... wonderful oxygen... he'd forgotten how good breathing feels.
Resseliss's mind has begun winding up again too. He smells the meat, he senses the flowing blood and the beating hearts of the creatures around him. How long has it been since he's eaten? He's determined not to be a slave to his instincts, but surely one little nibble can't hurt...
<<Think again,>> says Varit. <<Even if you were allowed to eat our friends, look at these Andalite guards. Look at those tails. You wouldn't make it three steps without being sliced open from head to toe.>> Between Varit's will and Resseliss's, they're able to keep the hunger in check for now...
Varit's still a little shell-shocked by the presence of this 'Ossanlin,' and by the fact that they have apparent Andalite allies.
"Keslin," he slurs with his Taxxon tongue, "may the Kandrona shine and strengthen you. Keslin..." he hesitates, "Are we on a dome ship? How in the world did you come by a dome ship?" His tone... as far as Taxxon tones go... is equal parts awe and incredulity. "Is this Tora's doing? Or Efaen's? I know there are some strong ties between the Rebellion and some Andalites. A War-Prince..." he stops, looking at Ossanlin... can this be the Captain that Myitt's always talked about? "Way to go, Keslin!" he whispers with great enthusiasm, his expression turning to a terrifying Taxxon smile.
"My shared human host is Jenny," he says, answering Keslin's implied questions. "She was with Neffec at the time of the attack, as far as I know. I have not heard from either one. I have not heard from... anyone..." he chokes a bit, wanting to embrace Keslin, and only checking himself when he remembers just what body he's in now, and that he's under heavily guarded watch at the moment. He opts instead to say simply, "thank you for rescuing me."
"This is Resseliss," he says, gesturing to his body with his many claws. "He was my prior host. We shared a... special bond." As special a bond as one can share with a Taxxon, he thinks. "When the attack began, he found me in the pool and saved me. We escaped in the Bug with Gerald Thomson." He chokes again. All that's left of Gerald is a few bones sitting on the floor inside. "He was injured. He... he didn't make it..."
-
"Do you know where Keslin is right now?" stated Keshin, almost impatiently. His gaze out of Joanne's eyes was haggard and less than flattering, and his posture almost looked as if the Yeerk was holding up Joanne's body using puppet strings. They had never been particularly attractive to begin with, but now they just looked sick.
"Myitt..." Keshin bites his lip. The Yeerk rebel had a long history with them, but the rebel had been distant and distracted. It pained him, a little, to see his former rival and sometimes client distraught over the many deaths the Andalites had caused. It wasn't like they were close, but Myitt was the closest thing Keshin and Joanne had to a regular acquaintance. "...Myitt One-Nine-Five has been evasive. I don't believe that we can talk to her about what we need."
"As for the sides, well..." Keshin shakes his head, an odd look of guilt across Joanne's face. "...we owe your captain our services. He saved our lives." This was technically true. They weren't sure yet whether there were better opportunities around than being on the same ship as Ossanlin, but even the turelek had to admit that gratitude was part of the reason they hadn't gone outright looking for them.
But gratitude only lasted as long as Joanne's breath remained strong.
-
Ossanlin looks Varit and Resseliss up and down, keeping his expression impassive. A taxxon that had gone out of its way to save a Yeerk? Strange... <Yes...well there may be some difficulty in that depart...> Ossanlin cuts off as his ARC gives him a private tone. <Excuse me.>
Ossanlin opens the communication from Esarvit. <What is it...?
<<Prince, we've picked up z-strain radiation signatures. Three ships jumping in...identity as yet unknown.>>
Ossanlin furrows his brow. <<On my way.>> He looks back between Keslin and Varit. <I am sorry to cut our introductions short, Varit, but I must depart. There is a...situation. The guards will stay with you...likely the best place for you for now is within the Dome.> He nods at Keslin before turning and galloping toward the ramp-well, trusting him to take care of their new charge.
He opens a private communication with Eleric and his other flight-squad commanders as he gallops up the ramp-well and onto the Prime deck. <<Prepare for potential deployment, five minutes.>> He closes the communication, running through the big aft dome bay doors. He gallops across the simulated Homeworld plain, running by Aetheas and Keshin, giving them a passing glance. Somewhat strange to see Aetheas taking a shine to the bounty-hunter...but that's information for later processing. Using the mind-trick he'd learned, Ossanlin files the information away for later perusal.
He gallops through the fore bay doors and down the corridor to the bridge. He slows to a trot as he enters the bridge, walking quickly up to his console. A flurry of hasty tail-salutes greets him. <Situation.>
Esarvit turns a stalk-eye on Ossanlin before speaking. <Three vessels sir, Yeerkish...Imperial .> He corrects himself. <Two salvage ships and a frigate escort...another Z-strain singularity opening, sir...the frigate has spotted us, they're powering weapons.>
Ossanlin narrows his eyes, his brain kicking into full command mode. <Claxter, evasive action. Esarvit, engage energy shielding. Transfer TO console control to the Captain's station.> Ossanlin's holographic display enlarges to surround his entire head and upper body, his ARC interfacing with the display. Loads of information starts bombarding him through the display as twin red energy beams lance out from the frigate. Both salvage ships had begun to turn, no doubt plotting an escape course. The frigate couldn't hope to take on a Dreadnaught dome.
<Sir, the new singularity has resolved...it's a Blade Ship!> Esarvit controls his surprise well.
The dracon energy splashes against the Tyrennian's energy shields, draining them only minimally. <Powering weapons...> Ossanlin starts the charging sequence. Normally the weapons and maneuvering tactics would be handled by the TO. Ossanlin spares only a glance for the empty TO station which mirrors what he's doing at his own console. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders if Aetheas might find it instructive. Ossanlin hasn't manned a TO station for years, but he's what they have under such emergency conditions.
A blade ship...the Tyrennian would still be the favorite to win...but best not to take any chances. <Lightning-strike, Storm-shrike...deploy immediately. Stop those salvage ships from escaping.>
Ossanlin discharges the Tyrennian's three primary Shredders at the frigate's foresection, watching the ship's red-glowing shields fade rapidly against the searing blue beams of the Dome's firepower. The frigate needed to go first, then they'd deal with the Blade...
Eleric dips his hoof into the cool water of the Dome's artificial stream, slaking his thirst. Today he finds the Dome particularly...stif ling. Yes, Ossanlin had deployed Lightning-strike more often than any other squadron over the past couple of weeks, but they'd not been deployed for days now. He spent the largest portion of his time in the hangar bay, making sure his fighter stayed prepped and in prime condition...but there were only so many times one could polish an exhaust vent before it began to feel utterly pointless.
When his communicator crackles to life and he hears the order to prepare for potential deployment in five minutes...his hearts begin to race. Yes...YES! This sounds like it's going to be fun. He grins to himself as he opens his own communication to his squad-mates confirming the orders they'd all just heard, galloping for the ramp-well. He passes Ossanlin on the way...the Prince looks serious. Real serious. Eleric's grin grows.
As he reaches the hangar, it's abuzz with Andalites running between fighter bays, the fighters already beginning to hum in their warmup cycles. He nods to his squad-mates as he passes them, a bit of swagger entering his trot. These were the ones he led...Lightning-strike...one of the best fighter squadrons in the military...in his mind anyway. <Get to your fighters, boys...we need to be ready in two minutes.> Three of Lightning-strike's members are older than him, but what was age but a number?
One of Eleric's stalk-eyes catches sight of a Taxxon at the end of the bay and he almost does a double-take. No...a Taxxon...really?! But he leaves himself little time to ponder as he reaches his tail-fighter and runs through his pre-flight checklist, making sure everything is in order outside the ship before entering the ****pit and engaging the safety-restraint field. He hears the blood rushing through his ears as his hearts continue to pump quickly. He checks his gauges and displays, his ARC interfacing seamlessly with the fighter's HUD. His fighter hums like the perfectly-tuned machine that it is, showing ready for launch.
Seconds that feel like hours tick by before another communication comes through. <Lightning-strike, Storm-shrike...deploy immediately. Stop those salvage ships from escaping.>
Eleric grins again, engaging his squad-communication group. <Tails to the wall boys... DEPLOY!> Eleric punches the magnetic catapult and his fighter rockets out into space, plasma engines flaring to life as he forms up at the lead of his squad, whooping mentally with exhilaration. He and his squad separate from the Tyrennian quickly, turning through the debris field. <Let's fry some slug!> He punches up maximum burn, setting a heading for the first salvage ship, his squad-wings falling in behind in formation.
Varekil rounds a bend in the ramp-well and quickly moves out of the way as he sees Ossanlin running upward. He barely catches the Prince's upward nod...so apparently he isn't needed in the hangar, but perhaps would be in the med-bay. Sighing, he turns around and trots back toward the med-bay.
Firin rakes Rythil's hand along his head-spikes in a gesture of frustration. All of this top-end Andalite tech, and he still hasn't been given permission to dig into it. Granted, the files Ossanlin had given him access to were lovely, but they simply didn't match the visceral satisfaction of digging into a state-of-the-art Shredder coil, for example. He looks back down at the mobile handheld device the Andalites had given him. He can't help but feel that one of those holographic projectors they used for their little Apix Realtime Computers would be better, but apparently those were reserved for people who were...important. Speak of the devil, he watches the Andalite Prince gallop through the dome toward the bridge in a hurry.
Firin files it in the back of his mind as he runs his hand across the wall beyond the holographic projection. It feels seamless, yet he knows its not. Somehow these walls were able to produce nearly any sort of natural phenomenon such as wind or rain, as well as maintaining the projection. He looks back over the Dome schematic...the holographic projectors built into the dome walls were quite sophisticated indeed. With a bit of modification, they might be even more-useful for...his thoughts stall out as the day-time hologram slowly fades out, showing the stars outside. Firin furrows his brow, looking up at the naked crystalline dome...odd...the day-cycle still had hours left, so...he gasps suddenly as the tail-like protrusion above the dome flashes bright, almost-white blue, a searing beam of energy lancing forth, burning a bar into Rythil's retinas.
"Dapsen!" Firin exclaims out-loud, winching Rythil's eyes shut in pain before they open again in realization. The Captain running for the bridge...the hologram fading...the weapons fire...they're in a battle! Firin furiously taps at the little handheld device. He wouldn't be able to see console or command functions of course, but he could probably at least see the feed from the basic visual sensors. After a few moments, his eyes widen as his little handheld device shows four Imperial vessels...one of them a Blade Ship! "By the Kandrona..."
<<Imperial filth...>> Rythil had been fairly quiet of late, so this little outburst came as a surprise. <<They deserve what's coming.>>
Firin sighs internally. <<I suppose they do, Rythil.>> The Tyrennian is a fearsome ship...it should be more than a match for this small band of Imperials. Yet he can't stop the little bit of gnawing anxiety from nibbling on the back of his mind. Blade Ships were fearsome too...and if more Imperials were on the way...
<<Stop thinking like that, Firin. You're giving me a headache.>>
<<...>>
-
Claxter began turning the ship so that they could still fire, and also move away at the same time. He also started prepping the engines for some fast flight. He heard the command to deploy the ships, so they weren't jumping into Z-Space. This was going to be his first fight as pilot, and his adrenaline started pumping as soon as he saw that Blade Ship. Sure the Tyrennian still had the upper hand, but it would be careless to let a Blade Ship's main cannons hit them full on. He worked on ducking around the frigate in an attempt to get under the Blade Ship. One good shot on its underbelly should be all they need to cripple it.
He remembered what Enorryma had said about working with the Tail fighters, and kept an eye on them too.
Ferxal was resting after his exercises when he caught sight of Ossanlin running across the dome. There were few reasons that a captain would rush out like that, and none of them good. His suspicions were verified when he saw dracon fire. They were under attack, and there was precious little he could do to influence the battle. Even if his ship was repaired, he was loathe to volunteer to go out. If there was a boarding party, he would gladly offer his services, but that would mean things were going quite bad. Still, he felt he should do something, yet his guards prefered he stay put.
-
Keslin stares at Varit. “Gerald…” He says, his voice trailing into silence as his jaw works.
<<He escaped,>> Chris says.
<<Injured,>> Keslin responds. <<If he didn’t-- >>
<<Don’t be stupid, Kes,>> Chris responds, his stomach churning with realization. <<If Gerald got onto that ship, wounded, with a Taxxon, he didn’t die from his injuries. I don’t care how good Varit thinks he is at control, or how special his bond is with that Taxxon. There’s no ****ing way.>>
Keslin has to work hard to keep his face from showing their joint nausea and grief, and he forces a small nod. “Gerald was…he was a friend,” he finally forces out.
He is saved, momentarily, from further conversation as Ossanlin relieves himself of the Dome. Something is happening, he thinks, frowning at the Captain’s abrupt departure. For a strange, teetering moment, he is more inclined to follow the Andalite than stay with his fellow rebel Yeerk.
It hits him out of nowhere, sneaking up on the shadows of grief, anxiety, and stress. Surrounded by a Taxxon and a ring of Andalite guards he suddenly wants nothing more than to run. To find relief. To—
<<Dude, Kes, give me control,>> Chris says, pulling Keslin out of his dark thoughts.
<<What?>>
<<Right now, you idiot. You’re making me shake like a ****ing leaf!>>
Keslin blinks, coming back into awareness, realizing that Chris is right. He has broken out into a cold sweat, the shivers that usually only manifest themselves in his fingers spreading to his entire body. Swallowing, he nods in response. <<Yeah. Okay.>>
As soon as Keslin slides out of control, the trembling ceases. Chris sighs and runs a hand through his messy blonde hair, giving the Andalite guards a slightly crooked smile, hoping they haven’t noticed, or don’t know enough about humans and Yeerks to understand, the slip.
“Varit,” Chris says. “I…I’m going to take you to the Dome, okay? I need you to follow and I need you to keep Resseliss under control. These guards here? They will shoot you if you lose control. I can’t stop them. I can only trust that they’ll keep their weapons on stun. Okay?” He doesn’t mention Gerald. He doesn’t want to think about Gerald.
-
<Mm...> Aetheas begins, tapping on his data pad and transferring the display proper to his ARC's holographic projector so that Keshin can see it as well. He brings up a display and queries Keslin's location. The display instantly shifts to a full view of the Tyrennian, displaying Keslin's location as...
<Keslin is in the hangar bay. Possibly greeting new Rebel arrivals.> He zooms in the display, <This is...>
He's interrupted by Ossanlin galloping past. He frowns. Something must be happening, for the Captain to be in that kind of a rush.
He looks to Keshin again, surprised, <The Captain saved your lives?> He pauses for a moment, processing. <Was this before or after you tried to kill him?> His words carry a surprisingly uncharacteristic bite behind them.
He seems about to say more, but suddenly, the dome lights up, flashing blue as the main Shredder fires above them. A battle!? This cannot possibly be a good thing.
<Excuse me,> he says hastily to Keshin. He turns to run in the direction Ossanlin had gone-- towards the bridge. As he goes, he doesn't even look back to see if Keshin's following, instead focusing his stalk eyes on the ARC's display, changing overlays to show power distributions, hull strain, weapons fire, heat, and myriad other factors as he thinks of them.
He arrives on the bridge, panting, and moves to stand out of the way, trying to take in the flurry of finely-organized chaos that is a dome ship bridge during a battle.
Varit watches, surprised, as Ossanlin leaves abruptly. He stands for a few moments, unsure of what to do with himself, and almost too afraid to move, with the guards surrounding him. If he notices Keslin's moments of shock, it doesn't show on his unreadable Taxxon features.
"No problem," he mutters warily, eying the guards who are armed to the tail. "Even a Taxxon can behave himself under these circumstances."
As he follows Keslin... no, wait, this has to be Chris now... towards the dome, he tries to steady himself, to get his bearings. "Chris..." he begins, wincing at the mangled pronunciation, "how did this happen?" He gestures to the ship around them, "Andalites... an Andalite dome ship, no less. They attacked us... but we're not prisoners? I... Resseliss will need to eat soon..." He pauses, "I will, too, if there's Kandrona available." He looks at Chris imploringly.
A shudder reverberates through the hull and up the deck plating. Varit feels even the slightest vibrations through his many legs-- this is like an earthquake.
"Are we safe?" he yelps.
-
Ossanlin catches a glimpse of Aetheas through the holographic display wrapped around his head and shoulders. <<Observe from the TO station, Warrior.>> An exact replica of the display currently wrapped around Ossanlin is projected at the Tactical console, showing incoming sensor data and Ossanlin's responses in real-time. Aetheas would see and hear exactly what Ossanlin did as the battle progressed.
Ossanlin monitors the Tyrennian's power consumption as both Apix 2 coils ramp up to 75% utility. His many-fingered hands fly over the console and interface with the hologram around him as well as he readies the primaries for a second volley. <Helm, evasive pattern seven-seven-alpha.> The Shredder coils cool enough for a second shot and Ossanlin discharges the three primaries simultaneously, focused on the frigate's primary energy signature. The beams melt through the frigate's hull before a massive explosion rips through space, the frigate nearly vaporizing as its energy source loses containment. The Tyrennian is enveloped in a brief bluish haze as the shockwave from the large explosion splashes against the shields, pushing the ship back a bit. The inertial stabilizers keep up well, but there's still a tremor and slight shift in the floor.
<Target neutralized.> Esarvit calls out from the sensors station.
The Shredder coils are holding up well, the cooling systems wicking the massive amounts of heat away from the focusing arrays quickly. Meanwhile, the Blade Ship had engaged, immediately attempting to move out of the Tyrennian's firing arc while discharging its own primary weapons. Claxter's actions carry the Tyrennian clear of the firing path and the shot goes wide.
<Six bugs deployed, sir.> Esarvit speaks up.
Ossanlin notes the bugs on their way toward the Tyrennian. <Down-Burst, Thunder-Crash, deploy now. Tactical home-ship defense.> Ossanlin watches the display as twelve more fighters blast out of the Tyrennian's hangar-bay. <Activating point-defense.> Ossanlin queues up the smaller point-defense Shredders. They would automatically seek out non-friendly fighters and fire on clear shots. He discharges one of the secondary Shredder cannons at the Blade Ship, the blue energy beam splashing against the darker ship's red shields as the two squads of defense fighters engaged the out-numbered bugs. Two of the bugs explode almost immediately as the multiple tail-fighters fire upon them simultaneously. The bugs come within range of the point-defense shredders and the Tyrennian lights up with small pulse-shredder fire, seeking for the bugs in the mass of fighters. <Claxter, stick with the fighters and get me a bearing on that Blade Ship with the primaries.>
Eleric watches the second volley of primary Shredder fire lance into the Yeerk frigate. He winces a bit, but smiles at the bright flash of the frigate's core going nova. He braces as the shockwave hits his fighter, throwing him off-course a bit. He corrects and locks himself back onto the nearest fleeing freighter. As soon as the ship is within range, he punches up his squad link to battle-status. <Formation X-5...lets tear this thing a new hoof-hole.>
He opens fire as his squad-mates form up around him and do the same. The fairly weak shields of the freighter glow angry red under the bright blue barrage of Shredder-fire. Eleric evades a weak Dracon blast from the ship...this thing was made for cargo, not battle. <That's it boys, lets burn 'em out of the sky.>
-
"It's a long story," Chris says, giving Varit a sidelong glance as he makes his way towards the Dome, all but ignoring the Andalite guards. "But suffice it to say, these Andalites are not the Andalites that destroyed are base. These guys saved us, and they're letting us stay with them until we're back on our feet." Or maybe longer, he adds internally.
Frowning, he strides down the hall. Chris is tall, but giant worms set a good pace. "There is Kandrona," he allows. "But we'd feel better about letting you feed if we were able to isolate your Taxxon friend somewhere. Food for him is....uh...well, we'll figure something out. Andalites aren't exactly big meat eaters."
As they walk, Keslin and Chris both pick up on the flurry of activity that implies conflict. The departure of several fighters hadn't escaped their notice either. A battle was happening, and Chris was itching to be a part of it, despite Keslins reluctance and attention to duty. "Almost there. Ah...don't expect to make too many friends straight away, Varit. No one is going to be expecting a Taxxon."
He steps into the Dome first, then sands aside, allowing Varit entry.
-
Claxter did as commanded, and stayed close to the fighters. It would be really bad if the Blade Ship started firing on them with the main guns, as they would just be vaporized if they took a hit, so he had to make sure the Tyrennian was seen as too much of a threat, while also not letting the Blade Ship pummel them. Many screens showed the fighters, Blade ship, distances, and other factors that Claxter needed to keep his eyes on at once while thinking very quickly. At once he found his opening. <Clear shot. Hit it hard.>
Ferxal sort of paced in anxiousness to do something about the battle, but unable to really do anything. He saw in the entrance to the dome, a Human was coming in with a Taxxon. His face would have scrunched in revulsion if not for his long training in suppressing all emotion. Did the rebels really employ Taxxons? He was curious in the way one might be curious about some unknown slime they found on the floor. He stepped closer to the Taxxon, but didn't actually speak to it.
-
Ossanlin discharges the primary Shredders a third time, the intense blue beams drilling the Blade Ship's crimson shields. Ossanlin immediately follows the barrage with one of the secondary Shredders. It pushes through the Blade Ship's temporarily-drained shields and impacts on the battle-bridge, heating the reinforced hull-plating until it glows orange. A primary might've punched through and ventilated the Blade's bridge, but the weaker secondary beam only weakens the reinforced hull. In the meantime, the Blade Ship's shields re-mesh and strengthen again.
The Blade Ship alters its course and pulls out of the Tyrennian's primary firing arcs again, taking a pot-shot at the tail-section of the ship, one of the blood-red beams searing across the aft shields. Ossanlin notes a small explosion as another one of the bugs explodes. None of the Tyrennian's own tail-fighters had been shot down. Two more bugs explode in quick succession...only one left. <Down-Burst, tactical aggression...burn that Blade Ship's shields.> Six Tail-fighters break away and make for the Blade Ship, discharging Shredders at the Yeerk vessel.
Eleric dodges around the lumbering freighter, pulling an orbital turn hard enough to feel the g-force through the inertial dampeners. The large, non-combat ship's shielding ghosts rather quickly, and Eleric begins methodically picking the freighter apart, destroying its small anti-fighter cannons first, then disabling its thruster nacelles. <Remember, boys...don't blow the Kulouk apart, the boss just wants to stop it from leaving.>
Eleric's fighter alarms blare warnings as his external sensors pick up increasing levels of Z-Rad. His eyes widen as he ducks away from the second freighter...Storm-Shrike had been almost as effective at picking it apart, but it was going to attempt a jump without any shields! He watches as Storm-Shrike's fighters max-burn away from the Yeerk ship as fast as possible. Even the first freighter was trying to use maneuvering thrusters to get away from its panicking comrade.
A sudden blinding flash of light announces the freighter's doomed jump, followed by a massive shockwave as Z-Space immediately tears the freighter to shreds. Even at this distance, Eleric's fighter is thrown by the explosion. He manages to wrest control of his fighter back and immediately checks his displays. His squadron is fully accounted-for, but one of Storm-Shrike's fighters is dead in the black. A trail of shredded and molten ship wreckage hovers in a five-click wake...each piece of refuse having once been a part of the freighter that had just tried to jump.
Eleric's comm crackles to life with several thought-speak voices. <Kerin, respond. Kerin!> <His vitals show he's alive...> <He's unconscious.> <His hull is partially-compromised...decompression in less than five minutes.> <We have to tow him back!>
He watches as Storm-Shrike's squad leader energy-tethers with the damaged fighter and begins to haul it back pain-stakingly to the Tyrennian, the rest of Storm-Shrike forming a protective cocoon around their injured comrade.
<Lightning-strike, on point!> Eleric orders his squad to form up in front of Storm-Shrike, ready to deal with any threats that might crop up. The first freighter would keep.
-
<Sir, one of the freighters tried a jump after Storm Shrike killed its shields. The attempt tore the ship apart, and one of the Tail Fighters is damaged.> Claxter said. <They always said never try escaping into Z-Space without shields. I guess that's what happens when you try anyway.> After thinking quickly, he decided the only way to get the ship closer, while keeping the main guns pointed at the blade Ship, was to let the ship drift to the side a bit to line up the hangers, then back towards them. Like the Tyrennian was orbiting the Blade Ship.
-
Keshin notes the visual on Aetheas' ARC display. Keslin did appear to be on the move, but Keshin still had time to greet him. "I think I'll go---wait!" Ossanlin suddenly galloped past both Keshin and Aetheas at an extremely high speed. Keshin frowned. "Huh, I wonder what's got his fur in a knot."
Aetheas then incredulously notes the improbability of Ossanlin saving the life of the bounty hunter who tried to kill him. Keshin turns to Aetheas about to explain that Ossanlin saved him from dying in the prison, but suddenly the top of the Dome lights up. "...uh oh," is all Keshin can say as he looks up. Even he could guess that meant that there was a battle underway, or some other trouble. Ossanlin's haste only confirmed his suspicion. Before Keshin can speak to or move to follow Aetheas, the Andalite brushes past him with a hurried apology.
Keshin stood underneath the Dome, glancing back at the exit and thinking about whether to follow Aetheas to the bridge or not. <It's pointless. We don't have an assigned combat role. We'll just clog things up.>
<An' if they need some reinforcements? We don' even know what these guys are fightin'.>
<If they--->
Before Keshin can finish his thought, the situation gets even stranger. Another rebel enters the Dome, followed by a...a Taxxon. Yes, it's definitely a Taxxon. Keshin blinks several times to ensure he's not dreaming, warriors darting past him out of the Dome to their positions. Keshin walks up to the rebel, holds up his hand as if about to say something, and then puts it back down. No, clearly this place was way beyond explanations.
"Do you know what's attacking the Tyrennian?" Keshin said, quickly.
-
Aetheas dips his tail in response to Ossanlin's order and quickly takes his place at the TO station. It takes him a few moments to get his bearings amidst the displays and holograms flashing around him, keeping track of every aspect of the battle. He's seen simulated battles with more craft, but in those cases, he's always been aboard a tail-fighter with little need to keep track of the extents of the battlefield. This... this is a different experience altogether, a view from the bridge of a capitol ship responsible for squadrons of fighters.
He keeps one stalk-eye trained on the Captain, watching his movements and his orders closely. Ossanlin has obviously done this before, and Aetheas intends to learn from him. A Blade Ship may not be a match for the Tyrennian, but it could still pose a threat. And there's the question of their own lack of a dock or access to Andalite supply lines-- any damage taken will be that much more difficult to repair in the future. It is in their best interest to come out of this battle as unscathed as possible. To that end, he watches Claxter's actions carefully as well.
Aetheas finds himself repeatedly searching for the reasoning behind the Captain's orders and shots, and very nearly always finding it-- if only after the fact. Usually, he sees, Ossanlin is simply more adept at taking in the entire situation than he himself is.
He's shocked to see one of the Yeerk scavengers tear itself apart attempting to reach Z-space. Whether it had been a suicide attack or a panicked escape attempt, it had caught him completely off-guard. He looks to the bridge crew to see how they adapt, more curious than anything.
"Andalite in-fighting?" Varit wonders. "Huh. They always seem to put up such a unified front. I guess it makes sense, though. So does the Empire, and yet here we are." He laughs, but it comes out sounding forced.
"I... Kandrona... I need Kandrona," he responds. "Resseliss will, of course, consent to confinement for the time being. You and I both know he's used to that at this point.
<<Promise you'll come back,>> says Resseliss.
<<...I'll try,>> is Varit's response after a moment's hesitation.
<<I need food or I'll die,>> his host reminds him.
"Though if we can figure out a source of protein for him, that would be ideal," Varit continues. It hasn't been long since he's eaten... he thinks guiltily of the bones aboard the fighter... but the Taxxon hunger never really subsides.
As they step into the dome, he draws a breath, shocked. "I... I've heard of the dome ships," he says, "but this... this is... they really do bring a piece of their world with them."
When a human woman asks what's attacking, his response is immediate, "Attacking!? We're being attacked?" He unconsciously skitters a couple of steps backwards, arching his back slightly. "Keslin, we can't be under attack! I just got here!," he says, his voice growing even more shrill and even more difficult to understand.
The Andalites running everywhere... the shuddering deck... the deploying fighters...
"I figured this place was always like this," he says sullenly, eying the human woman and the Andalite who've neared them.
-
Ossanlin nods in response to Claxter. <Hangar, prepare to receive Storm Shrike squadron, one in tow.>
<Claxter, bring us to heading 0.045, pitch 55, yaw 240.> Ossanlin discharges the rear secondary Shredder at the Blade Ship as another explosion announces the destruction of the final Bug Fighter. The point defense pulse-Shredders go quiet. <Thunder-Crash, tactical aggression on that Blade Ship.> Blade Ship shields are strong, but they would wilt quickly under this barrage, and if the Blade Ship behaved as he expected...the next fifteen seconds would see a disabled Blade Ship, or a fleeing one.
Eleric takes point in front of his squadron, watching the rest of the battle from a bit of a distance. He watches as the final bugs explode...he would've liked to have a shot at at least one of them, but Fighters had to look out for each other, even if they weren't from the same squadron. It was an unspoken understanding, one that only other Tail Fighter pilots truly understood.
Suddenly the Tyrennian enters an orbital broadside trajectory...that would get Kerin inside quicker. Interesting that Prince Claxter had become such an effective and considerate pilot after such a short time...Eleric represses the surge of jealousy. He doesn't want to pilot the Tyrennian...that would take him out of the ****pit of a fighter, but the fact that the Tyrennian's new pilot had been made a Prince...well, he himself would be a Prince one day.
Eleric escorts Storm-Shrike back to the hangars, their squad leader towing their injured squad-mate into the irregular hangar, the others returning to their individual bays. <Alright boys, Storm-Shrike's safe...lets go blast a Blade Ship.> Eleric grins to himself as he flies around the underbelly of the Tyrennian, his squad forming up behind him.
-
Claxter did as commanded, and kept steady watch on the Blade Ship. Hopefully they could get a large supply from a crippled Blade Ship, if they could manage to take it down. He wondered what would happen to the crew, though. It's not as if Ossanlin had rescued the imperial prisoners at Corvus. Maybe just leave them stranded with possibly a reasonable expectation that they would survive? This wasn't the time to think about that, though. Right now he had to focus on making sure the Blade Ship didn't make a comeback and cripple them.
-
Unsurprisingly, Varit's entrance into the Dome seems to be causing a bit of a stir. Chris notices an Andalite step near, and several of his fellow rebels look up in surprise. He does his best to appear nonchalant, glancing over his shoulder to give Varit a bland smile.
"We'll probably have to put Resseliss in stasis, at least until we figure out a protein source," Chris says apologetically. His train of thought is interrupted by Keshin, and Varit's rather strong reaction to the idea of being under attack.
Keslin steps into control again, giving Keshin a small shake of his head. "I don't know," he says, his eyes roving to the now-transparent Dome. "Yeerk craft," he says. "Imperial, no doubt. There are no other Yeerks left with enough fire power to attack an Andalite Dome Ship. Even the rebellion would have never dared."
He grimaces at the tell-tale signs of battle, but forces himself to remain focused. "Keshin, this is Varit, our newest rescue," he says. "He needs Kandrona. Can you show him where the pool is and take his host to a stasis chamber?"
<<You're leaving Varit with a turelek?>> Chris asks in surprise.
<<If Resseliss cannot control himself and attacks, I would prefer turelek blood shed to one of our true allies,>> Keslin responds.
<<Ouch. Ruthless, man.>>
Keslin ignores Chris, running a shaking hand through his hair. "I need to go see if I can be of any help on the bridge. Let me know if there are any problems, either of you, eh?"
-
Ossanlin glances around the displays as Claxter takes the ordered actions. The maneuver at first seems to be pointless and perhaps unintelligent, until the Blade Ship's momentum carries it partally into the Tyrennian's firing arc. Ossanlin discharges all three primaries, punching through the shields and melting a semi-circular hole all the way through one side of the "neck" of the Blade Ship behind its battle bridge.
<Z-Rad increasing exponentially, sir.> Esarvit calls out.
<Yes.> Ossanlin confirms. <All fighters, flow behind the Tyrennian to avoid the wake.>
A few seconds later, the Blade Ship's emergency jump shields ignite and there's a bright flash as the Blade Ship escapes into Z-Space. They wouldn't be able to go far with such a grievous injury...they'd have to stop somewhere for repairs, but tracking them would be difficult, especially for a single ship. Besides which, they still have a freighter to deal with.
Ossanlin's combat displays slowly shrink down as he brings the Tyrennian's primary combat systems from active to standby. <Claxter bring us within ten klicks of that freighter.> Ossanlin glances around the bridge...Keslin had not yet returned from escorting the new arrival. He opens a communication with Serid and Keslin. <Serid, prepare a boarding party...Keslin...yo ur input would be appreciated if you would be willing to join me on the bridge.>
Eleric gets off a couple of shots before the order to flow behind the Tyrennian is given. He furrows his brow and scoffs, but does as ordered...a properly-shielded jump wouldn't put out much of a wake...nothing like the freighter earlier, but that wasn't to say there wouldn't be some sort of failure that would cause one. Really it just bothers him to let the thing go...a Blade Ship was a prestigious kill, something he one day knew he'd be able to say he'd downed. He'd been hoping that day would be today.
Just like that, the Blade Ship vanishes. <Lightning-strike, containment perimeter on that freighter.> He hears Ossanlin's voice through the comm. <Alright boys, back to guard-duty.> Eleric turns his fighter lazily, making his way back to toward the freighter.
-
Aetheas continues to watch Ossanlin's every move. The term textbook comes to mind-- as far as space battles go, this one is executed about as smoothly as can be expected. When Ossanlin directs the Tyrennian into what will be the battle-ending maneuver, it takes Aetheas a few seconds to recognize what the Captain intends... though he is proud of himself for spotting the finish of the maneuver before it's actually reached.
As soon as the Blade Ship has jumped, Aetheas steps back from the station. He's shaking, he realizes, and his hearts are pounding as the adrenaline clears his system. There's not much left to do now, except cleanup work. He doesn't expect whatever resistance remains on the salvage freighter to give them much trouble.
And damage to the Tyrennian has remained minimal. He pulls up his personal display of the ship, checking all systems one by one. A bit of superficial scorching, but the shields have absorbed nearly all of the punishment. One of the reactors seems to be running a bit hot, but aside from a few minor things here and there, the ship appears to be in great shape considering they've just fought against an Imperial Blade Ship.
Still, he questions the wisdom of having engaged these Yeerks without the support of the Andalite infrastructure behind them.
Varit bucks, almost horse-like, as Resseliss realizes what Keslin is saying. <<Stasis!>> shouts Resseliss. <<Not stasis! Let me eat first! Let me eat first! I'll starve!>>
Varit clamps down, both mentally and physically, pressing his body to the deck and refusing to move while he fights Resseliss for control. <<Calm down! Resseliss! You're better than this! Remember?>> he shouts at his host.
For a few moments, the pair sits, unmoving, pressed against the grass. <<You're right,>> Resseliss concedes. Soon Varit is able to lift himself up.
"Sorry," he says, "this whole situation is... difficult. Thank you, Keslin." His voice is sincere.
"Keshin..." he says, looking at the woman. "Have we... met? I'm sorry... I don't actually recognize your host. But then," he says quickly, covering his tracks, "I haven't spent that much time around the base with a host, and almost no time at all with a Taxxon, so things look different..."
-
It seemed the Blade Ship got away. At least for now. Taking any Blade ship out of commission would have been a boon for anyone fighting the Empire. Claxter turned to approach the freighter, which was definitely a treasure for them at this point. Things might have been better, but they might have been worse. He stretched his tense muscles, and slowed his breathing to help calm himself. This had been a good first battle for him as pilot. He did keep a close eye on the prize, though, since until they had it firmly in hand the wasn't sure what surprised they might pull in retaliation.
Ferxal noticed outside the dome that the Blade Ship had fled, but they disabled a freighter. He would enjoy being a member of the boarding party, but he doubted they would let him. Still, maybe the Captain would command all able bodied Warriors to prepare for a boarding attempt, and he could volunteer then.
-
Keslin is no more than a few feet out of the Dome when he hears Ossanlin's thought-speak. The sound makes him wince a little -- he isn't sure he will ever get used to the distinct cadence of an Andalite's thoughts, boring their way into his mind. He picks up his pace, skirting around the few Andalites that are not tending to the current drama. In truth, a part of him is glad for the distraction, and an excuse to leave the Taxxon-Controller in someone else's hands.
"What's the situation?" Keslin asks as soon as he steps onto the bridge, his eyes finding Ossanlin easily enough. Amazing how quickly he has become accustomed to distinguishing individual Andalites. Not so long ago they all looked very much the same to him. As he waits for a response, he automatically steps towards the computer console that he has unofficially claimed in the rebels' brief time aboard the Dome Ship.
-
Ossanlin watches as Keslin steps up to the currently-vacant Comm-Sec station. He zooms the primary viewer in on the remaining freighter. <A skirmish. The Blade Ship fled, the frigate and second freighter were destroyed.> Ossanlin gestures at the viewer with a hand. <As you can see, this freighter is disabled. I have Serid forming a first-contact boarding party to subdue the surviving crew.> Ossanlin turns his main eyes on Keslin. <It occurred to me, however, that the best person to lead such a party would not be one of my Warriors, but one of yours, or you yourself. At any rate, I would appreciate your input upon the most-efficient manner of subduing or capturing the crew and stripping this thing to the frame.>
-
Aetheas continues skimming his readouts of the Tyrennian's status for a few moments. He turns his attention to the freighter. New. Perhaps brand new, before they'd crippled it. And at a glance it seems to be up to nearly Andalite manufacturing standards. The Empire has always improved quickly. It has always been all the Andalites can do just to stay ahead technologically, and the Yeerks show no signs of slowing their technological advance.
Before he can investigate further, Ossanlin speaks of forming a boarding party.
<I am willing to join the boarding party,> he says to the two of them. A bit insubordinate, perhaps, but he's not really over having been denied the chance to assist in the Corvus raid. And there'd be no better way to investigate the Yeerk freighter than to be there.
-
Keshin's eyes widen as the Taxxon introduced to him as Varit freaks out, presumably because he can't keep control of the Taxxon's ravenous hunger. Keshin's hand briefly and instinctively moves to his gun, and something tenses throughout Joanne's body. Keshin shakes his head as Varit maintains control of the Taxxon.
<What the hell was that?>
<Instinct. I wasn' goin' ta do nothin'.>
<You'd better not. We're in no condition to fight anyone with anything.>
"Yes, I can tell that your control is less than ideal," states Keshin, suddenly all business again. He begins to walk across the grass towards the Dome's exit, although they are very close to it. "How did you get landed with him if he's not your main host? What happened to bring you onboard the Tyrennian during or close to a firefight?"
-
Keslin turns his full attention to the viewscreen, watching the visuals as Ossanlin fills him in.
<<Imperials. Just what we need,>> he murmurs quietly, watching the disabled ship float, dead in the water.
"Do you have a reading on how many lifeforms are still on the ship?" he asks, glancing at Ossanlin. "Odds are that those still on board are heavily armed, even if they are not warriors, strictly speaking, so I would be prepared."
He frowns a little, considering. "I can lead the mission, if you would like, or I can send either Dom or Nefitt. Dom is probably our best at negotiation, and Nefitt is has the medical background to treat any immediate wounds that may have been incured in the battle."
His eyes flicker back to the screen. "Are you looking to take hostages or to eliminate the threat entirely? If possible, we would prefer to save what host bodies we can."
-
Ossanlin nods curtly. <Any survivors will be captured if possible, eliminated if not. Prisoners will be starved out. Perhaps the Taxxon will not have to be placed in stasis just yet. There won't be negotiations...I think you already know that, Keslin. Esarvit?>
<Sensors currently show ten remaining life-signs aboard. Only seven have shown any mobility within the last five standard minutes. One of the immobilized is extremely weak.>
<Seven hostiles then, Keslin. They're a freighter crew, will they truly be so heavily-armed?>
Ossanlin turns a stalk eye on Aetheas. <<You may accompany team beta once the hostiles have been dealt with. Please understand, Aetheas, I do not discredit your fighting skills...you are simply too valuable to put at risk with this endeavor.>>
-
Keslin swallows, keeping his expression neutral as Ossanlin speaks.
<<Ruthless,>> he comments internally, his mental tone somewhere between respect and discomfort.
<<Nothing we haven't done before,>> Chris responds, equally grim.
Nodding, Keslin forces a tight smile. "They will each have at least a standard Dracon beam. Givent he circumstances, I would not be surprised if the...the hostiles had managed to procure energy deflectors. They act as a weak force field around an individual in battle, and most ships are equipped with an emergency supply. Probably not enough for all seven, but a few."
He lets out a slow breath. "A Shredder or Dracon shot will be deflected off of these fields, at least initially. The last one I came in contact with took three or four direct shots before the field was weakened enough to break through and hit the target."
-
Ossanlin turns his main eyes on Keslin. Personal energy deflectors...a novel idea. That could be useful to procure, assuming Keslin and Myitt's people didn't know how to create them already. <If we could procure those deflectors, it could indeed be useful. We...the Electorate...> Ossanlin corrects himself...it's still odd to think of himself outside of the Andalite government. <The Electorate do not currently have any kind of personal energy-deflection technology.> He doesn't add that Sector Seven likely does. <There will certainly be useful supplies and components aboard. We can't afford to pass up this opportunity. The Blade Ship would've been a lovely catch, but ten times as hard to actually take. This freighter reminds me of a fat ezbit lounging atop the pond home of a hungry kreklet.>
He taps a couple of buttons on his virtual console, watching it with a stalk eye, his main eyes still on Keslin. <I have enough ASAR's to arm nearly everyone who's currently aboard the Tyrennian. I also have several pulse-detonators. How will these energy deflectors hold up against those?> ASAR's were more-powerful than standard handhelds of course...each rapid pulse unleashed by its SI firing mode contained nearly the same amount of energy as a standard handheld shot. Its standard shot is nearly five times as powerful as that unleashed by a standard handheld. And the pulse-detonators, resembling spherical plastic balls the size of a hand, unleashed a strong pressure-wave when detonated. The wave was not strong enough to be lethal, except in the case of Taxxons...their bodies usually burst from the pressure if near the device when it detonated. The wave would knock a hork-bajir off of its feet and cause severe disorientation, but not death. Humans fared worse, usually suffering from burst timpanic membranes which then proceeded to bleed from the ears...but still survived the pressure-wave.
-
Varit turns towards the exit with Keshin. He lets out a screeching sound that may be a laugh. "Taxxons aren't the most pleasant hosts," he confides to Keshin. "Ressesliss and I were together in the Empire, but once I reached the Rebellion, I quickly tired of the Taxxon hunger. There's less to eat at the Rebellion, and the Taxxons always believe they're starving. I relegated myself to the pool. I had no host for a while. Then there was Jenny. Every few days, she'd come by, be my host, let me share her eyes and arms and legs." He smiles... sort of... "She's a good person. Splits her time between six or seven of us who don't have hosts of our own."
"When the base was attacked," he continues, "Jenny wasn't hosting me. I was in the pool, and Resseliss... he... he found me. He saved me." He allows his feeling of gratitude to flow through to his host, who practically beams with pride internally.
"As for the timing..." he 'laughs' again, "had I known there were Imperials around, you wouldn't have caught me withing a hundred parsecs of this place."
"So..." he says apologetically, "what'd you do on base?"
Aetheas listens with interest to the discussion of the defensive fields. That could be useful indeed... if Keslin expected the Imperials to have outfitted this freighter with a supply, that means the program is more advanced than Aetheas had suspected.
<<Yes, Captain,>> says Aetheas when the Captain orders him not to board the freighter until it's secure. He's unable to keep some level of resentment out of his voice. Ossanlin may say he considers Aetheas too valuable to risk, but as Aetheas notes, Ossanlin himself took part in the raid on Corvus less than two weeks prior.
He steps back to his station and continues going over displays, readouts of the Tyrennian's systems, the computer's recording of the battle, anything he can get his hands on. At the same time, he continues listening to the conversation between Keslin and Ossanlin.
-
Keshin snickers, glancing at Varit as they exit the Dome and begin to head towards the Yeerk Pool. "I wasn't doing
anything on base, Varit. My host and I, Joanne, are technically a turelek known as Static Shock. Ridiculous name, but it wasn't my idea and it makes more sense in context. We got some early jobs because people wondered what kind of **** bounty hunter would give himself a superhero name."
Keshin continues wandering, awkwardly with the Taxxon following him. It's not like it was the first time he'd had a massive sentient worm pair trailing him, but it always put him on edge. Taxxon hunger was unpredictable, and they weren't even rebels. "You're lucky your host was kind enough to bring you along."
-
Keslin frowns as he considers. "They would probably lessen the blow," he says, "but I doubt the deflectors would be able to completely block it. They would certainly give us an advantage, though I don't know how much they would damage the technology."
He steps away from the computer terminal, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "Myitt can fix just about anything, so I wouldn't worry about that too much." He hesitates. "Would you prefer for me to be present on this mission, or for me to assign one of our people to it?" He dislikes asking Ossanlin for his preferences, but it is as much of an olive branch as he is comfortable giving.
-
Ossanlin gives Keslin an even, weighing look. It's obvious from his demeanor that he is a different Andalite from his usual, congenial self at this point. The Ossanlin standing in front of Keslin right now emanates a strong aura of command and one can simply tell that he will give orders and knows that they will be obeyed. Still, even if Ossanlin is more commanding during this situation, he is certainly not without his tact nor his intellect.
<You know your people better than I. You have earned a portion of my trust, therefor I will trust in your judgement. However, if you yourself are not going, I will place Serid in command of this mission, and whomever you select must be willing to follow his orders implicitly and without hesitation. Serid knows enough to listen to advice and will accept your selected person's council. On the other hand, if you decide to go yourself...I will order my Warriors to follow your command directly in the same manner. I leave the choice to you, but hurry. Each second we don't press them is another second they have to regroup and prepare.>
-
Keslin hesitates only a moment before responding, "I will go."
<<What?>> Chris yelps. <<Dude, Tess will kill us!>>
He forces a thin smile. "I am not willing to put any of my people at risk, and I think they will be reassured to see me in charge of a mission. They are still uncertain about you, and your kind." He rolls his shoulders back and, belatedly, tucks his trembling hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I would like to bring one or two of my people with me, though. Nefitt, at the very least. It would be good to have a medic on hand that understands human physiology."
-
Ossanlin nods. <Very well. It's your mission, choose whichever of your people you wish. My only requirement is that you include at least as many Andalites as you do rebels. Serid is a security specialist. He is also extremely adept at interpreting and understanding human mannerism. I recommend you bring him, and I recommend that he be your second in command. Serid will also be able to determine the best Andalite candidates to fill out the team, and will be able to arm your people appropriately.>
-
"Serid then," Keslin agrees with a nod. "And Nefitt, for his medical expertise. I would prefer not to send too many of my people in. We can't exactly afford to lose anyone." He hesitates. "Firin. He will likely be displeased with the idea of being used for his host's blades, but energy shields do not protect against physical blows. He may be useful."
<<And if there's any newer Yeerk technology there, he'll trip over himself trying to get his hands on it,>> Chris adds with a quiet laugh.
"That gives you two Andalite places to fill, Ossanlin," Keslin says, smiling grimly.
-
Ossanlin nods...he's not had much interaction with the Tyrennian's resident Hork-Bajir controller, aside from noting his voracious appetite for all things technological. Strange that an intellectual Yeerk would be given a Hork-Bajir host...though the fact that he is intellectual doesn't necessarily mean he filled an intellectual role in the Empire.
<Unfortunately I do not have medical personnel of my own to spare. Varekil is the only one remaining on my crew, and he's much too precious to risk.> Ossanlin glances at Aetheas in consternation. His loss would hurt badly...Efaen was unstable. Claxter...he needs Claxter at the helm. An idea flashes across his mind. That new rescue was a close-combat specialist, and Claxter had vouched for his reliability. Not to mention he would be in a sore spot if he tried anything...and...he was expendable. Ossanlin dislikes the thought, but it's true. It wouldn't hurt too badly if he fell in the raid. He opens a ship-wide communication. <Warrior Ferxal-Escoth-Dhoraim, please report to the bridge.>
He returns his gaze to Keslin. <That makes two...the third should be Elic...he's a quick, reliable shot and has a level head despite his youth.> Ossanlin nods as Serid approaches. <We need to arm everyone who's participating with ASAR's, ARC's, and pulse detonators. Give everyone a quick demo and then get to the hangar-bay. We need to act quickly.> He moves his main eyes to Keslin a moment before moving them back to Serid. <Keslin here is in command of the mission. Make sure everyone understands this. You are to follow his orders implicitly and without question. You will be his second.>
Serid's eyes widen a bit but he nods. <Yes, Prince.>
-
Ferxal had gone back to slowly walking around the dome, having lost interest in the Taxxon, when he heard the summons. He took off at a steady trot towards the bridge, not too slow as to make the captain impatient, but not too fast to ram into someone unexpectedly.
<Ferxal Escoth Dhoraim reporting as requested, sir.> He said as he entered. His stalk eyes scanned the bridge, this being the first time he'd been in the bridge of a Mark III Dome. It was quite nice. His main eyes, of course, were on the Ossanlin. <You wish to speak with me, Prince Ossanlin?>
Claxter couldn't help but turn a stalk eye towards ferxal, seeing how his old Dome mate looked after a few years. Ferxal noticed him, but didn't seem to recognize him.
-
Ossanlin gives Ferxal an appraising look. <Your file says you are a close-combat specialist. I am sending a team aboard that freighter to capture it. If your file is accurate, your skills would be appreciated. If you do not wish to participate, you may return to the dome. I realize you are here involuntarily...I can't let you go without endangering my people, but that does not mean that I will force you to fight for us.> He glances at Keslin with his main eyes before returning them to Ferxal. <Also, Keslin will be leading this venture.> Ossanlin indicates Chris with a hand. <He is a Yeerk with a voluntary host named Chris. If you wish to participate, you will need to follow his orders directly and implicitly for the duration of the mission.> He waits for a response.
-
Ferxal would have loved nothing more than to put tail into Hork-Bajir flesh after his miserable time in space, and was just about to say it would be his pleasure...until Ossanlin said a Yeerk would be leading the raid. His main eyes went to Keslin, and his stalk eyes stopped scanning as he was taken by surprise with this. First he had brought them on his ship, and now he was letting one of them lead Andalites? This was too strange for words. Then he called a loyalist to the Electorate and was asking him to take orders from one. Just because he was great at close combat? Or perhaps they were understaffed and he was expendable. Ferxal didn't want to think that perhaps Ossanlin was hoping there would be an "accident" in this mission and he fell in battle. The Prince was surely more honorable than that.
He didn't want to be led by a Yeerk, but he didn't want to just go back to the dome and stand around. <I will accept this task, sir. Tentatively.> He said. <If you wish to work with these...people...I suppose I should see what redeeming qualities they have.>
-
"Glad to hear it," Keslin says, giving Ferxal a placating smile. Despite his own misgivings, his natural tendency towards diplomacy takes precedence. "Your expertise is appreciated, Ferxal -- as is yours, Serid."
He glances at Ossanlin. "I suppose we will go to the docking bay to prepare. If you could please do me the favor of telling Firin and Nefitt that their presence is required. Your thought-speak is far more effective than my comm link, and knowing Nefitt he won't be looking at his anyhow."
He closes down his computer station, pausing to check that he is, in fact, still armed. His Dracon weapon has not gone anywhere, still firmly holstered to his side. He is glad, not for the first time, that it was returned to him. The weight of it is far more comforting than Andalite shredder beams.
"Serid, Ferxal? If you will?" He moves to exit the bridge.
-
Ferxal followed Keslin to the docking bay. <What are the objectives of this mission? Simple shoot and loot?> Ferxal asked. Despite that he was going to be taking cues from a Yeerk, he hoped this would be fast enough that it wouldn't bother him. He'd have to keep an eye on the controller, both for his protection and so he didn't get turned against, but if he focused on fighting the enemy it would be more or less like any other supply raid.
-
<Of course, Keslin. I would suggest you have everyone stop by the armory on the way. You do not have to take any equipment, of course, but an ASAR will be more effective than any handheld weapon...and while you will not be able to give an ARC any thought-speech commands, there is a manual entry panel on the processor portion of the device...you could touch it and command it to remain in HUD mode indefinitely, or you could conceivably attempt to wear it in such a manner that the panel is in constant contact with your skin to receive mental commands. Under less-pressing circumstances, we can most-likely develop a fairly non-invasive implant which could act in the same manner without the hassle of requiring physical contact with the panel. There are pulse-detonators at your disposal as well. I leave the decision up to you, but all of those you're bringing along on this mission have the option of being armed with an ASAR, an ARC, and a pulse detonator should you so desire.>
Ossanlin opens a wide-band communication through the ship. <Nefitt and Firin, please report to Keslin immediately. Nefitt and Firin, please report to Keslin, thank you.> Ossanlin nods at Keslin and glances at Serid and Ferxal.
Serid glances from Ferxal to Ossanlin and then to Keslin. He takes a deep breath. He'd lived amongst humans for years and knew there were rebel Yeerks even then...still, he'd fallen happily back into his role as an Andalite warrior after undergoing reversion, and the thought of actually taking orders from a Yeerk...well, it was Prince Ossanlin's command...he just hopes it isn't folly.
He turns his main eyes to Keslin. <I can show you to the armory if you want...sir.>
Firin watches the show with the ship's cameras through his hijacked connection when a loud thought-speak voice echoes through the dome. He nearly jumps out of his skin when the War Prince calls him by name. Had he been discovered....****...**** ****...he shouldn't have done it. He hadn't done anything bad but...wait...report to Keslin? He quickly terminates his computer's link with the Tyrennian sensor system and does a Z-Space ping on Keslin's transponder location. The bridge...curiouser and curiouser.
He turns toward the verdant plain that he knows hides the door leading to the bridge concourse and sets out, Rythil's strong, swift gait carrying him quickly out of the dome, through the concourse, and to the bridge. "Keslin...I was...uh...summoned?" He looks around the clean, smooth lines of the Andalite ship's bridge. He feels a bit of serenity pushing through Rythil's sudden unease.
<<You like this ship...don't you?>>
<<It's very pretty...if only it wasn't filled with genocidal, self-righteous Yeerkophobes...>>
<<These 'genocidal Yeerkophobes' have done everything to make us comfortable...I think you need to give them a chance...the same chance you gave me.>>
<<...>>
-
"Loot and shoot?" Keslin asks, echoing Ferxal. "No, not at all. We take what hostages we can. If they surrender, the better for us. If not, we do what we can to keep the hosts unharmed. This ship could use extra manpower, and I won't turn down an opportunity to free an involuntary. Who knows, perhaps some of the Yeerks aboard that craft can be persuaded to see things my way."
He glances at Ferxal, but his attention is pulled away by the arrival of Firin. "Firin," he says with a nod. "I'm going to need your help, friend. I'm afraid it isn't the most elegant of missions -- we need your host's strength. But there is an opportunity for new tech."
Ossanlin's suggestion of an implant makes Keslin uncomfortable, but he doesn't allow it to show on his face. Instead he nods in understanding. "A trip to the armory, yes," he agrees. "Serid, thank you. Ossanlin -- we'll be in touch." He hesitates, then gives the Andalite captain a small salute that is half in jest, half serious.
Nefitt, engrossed in his computer screens, blinks in alarm and discomfort at the sound of Andalite thought-speak, resounding through his mind like a living thing. In his weeks on the Dome Ship he has not become accustomed to the sound that is not a sound at all. He doubts he ever will.
<<Andalites,>> he mutters internally to his host, who has nothing of use to say one way or the other in response. Kevin never does.
With a weary sigh, he pulls himself to his feet and pockets his computer. Taking his time, he reaches the bridge just as Keslin and the others are about to depart. "Keslin?" he asks, raising bushy eyebrows.
"Nefitt," Keslin says with a small smile. "Hey. We may need your medical expertise. We're going off ship to the transport."
"Alright," Nefitt says reluctantly, his eyes moving warily to Serid and Ferxal. "Where do you want me?"
"When we get to the ship you hang back. If anyone needs immediate medical attention, whether it's our people or theirs, do what you can," Keslin says. "Just don't get yourself killed, eh?"
-
<I am not experienced with leaving the enemy alive.> Ferxal said. <I have been told standard issue shredders do have a stun setting. I don't know how effective a flat blade will be against Hork-Bajir, though perhaps if I hack their blades off they will be more willing to comply with capture.>
-
Ossanlin nods and frowns a bit at Ferxal's comment, but admonishing the Warrior at this point would be to immediately usurp the command Keslin had just taken, so he says nothing. He nods at Keslin and bows his tail a bit. <Good fortune, I would see you all back alive.> He watches as the group leaves the bridge.
Serid nods and makes his way through the dome. <The armory is this way, sir.> He says little more as he makes his way down the ramp-well a level to the primary armory. He uses his security clearance to unlock the door and strides in. The room is approximately twenty meters by twenty meters and has racks lined all around with ASARs, standard handhelds, impact detonators, and myriad other equipment. There is also a stable-field cabinet with complete ARC units hanging in suspension. <What equipment do wish to use, sir?> He turns his main eyes on Keslin, bowing his tail in deference.
Firin frowns a bit as Keslin details the mission. "If that is what is required...I suppose it would be nice to see what kind of tech the Empire is showering on its lackeys these days." He huffs a bit, but he can feel Rythil's blood pumping.
<<You're excited.>>
<<If I can't put blade to these grass-eaters, then I'll put blade to the Imperials.>>
Firin follows behind Keslin and the Andalite called Serid. Strangely, Keslin seems to be leading the mission, as opposed to an Andalite...curiouse r and curiouser.
-
"Our Dracon weapons were designed from your Shredders," Keslin responds, giving Ferxal a raised eyebrow. "If the Empire saw fit to include a stun setting, I have no doubt it was part of the original design. See to it that you use it."
He follows Serid, nodding at Nefitt as he falls in step behind them, taking note of the medic's unhappy expression.
<<Maybe we should have brought Farrah,>> Chris says.
<<No,>> Keslin responds. <<Farrah's background in neuro-surgery is far too valuable to risk. Nefitt is an experienced medic, but such skills are more easily replaceable.>>
<<Dude, when did you become so damn cold? No one is replaceable, eh? That's what we always said on the ships.>>
Keslin presses his host's lips together. <<That was before the Andalites decided to show us just how expendable our people can become. We're in a difficult position, Chris. We have to pick and choose.>>
His internal dialogue is interrupted by the entrance to the armory. Keslin steps in, looking around. "Everyone, take what you think you will need, but do not overdo it," he commands. His eyes fall on Serid. "And please, Keslin will do. You don't need to call me 'sir'."
For himself, he sticks to his Dracon weapons, complimenting them with the Andalite technology that he feels comfortable using -- that which is most similar to Yeerk technology. He chooses several impact detonators and an ASAR, as well as one of the ARC units. Once he is armed he steps back and watches the others. Nefitt stands beside him, his own arms folded over his chest, clearly uninterested in the Andalite weaponry.
"Keslin," he says quietly, his lips barely moving, his eyes staring straight ahead. "I do not trust them."
Keslin sighs a little, a silent exhale through his mouth. "I know, Nefitt," he responds. "But right now I need you to do your job, alright? It's what you're good at."
"We've reached all of the rendezvous points," he presses. "We should begin planning our leave of this place."
Keslin glances over then, sharply. "Not now," he says firmly. "We'll discuss this after the mission. A Council meeting, eh?"
Nefitt snorts disdainfully in response, making Keslin frown as he turns his attention back to Serid.
"Serid, I need a standard medical field kit for Nefitt," he says. "Something small and easily transportable. Any specific requests, Nefitt?"
Eyes narrowing slightly, Nefitt looks Serid up and down, his expression hard. After a long, tense moment, he nods imperceptably. "No medicine," he says flatly. "I don't know what Andalite medicine will do to a human or a Hork-Bajir. First aid equipment only. Can you handle that, Andalite?"
-
Firin looks around the armory, and while he does have his standard Dracon, he knows a little something about ASAR's. He'd seen them in action. Rapid fire-rate is usually a good thing. He takes one off the rack and slings the strap over Rythil's shoulder. He disdains the ARC, but does pull one out of the stasis cabinet. He could use it for its HUD functionality, but later he could perhaps disassemble it to see if he could use it to make any upgrades to his own cube computer. And, of course, he could reprogram his cube computer to interface with the handy little holo-display. He hooks the display over Rythil's right ear and touches his hand to the small, smooth interface panel and commands it to activate. After a few moments, the holo-display begins to flash in front of his right eye, scrolls of Andalite script rolling past, probably giving the computer's specs or status or who knows? He commands the thing to enter HUD display mode and it overlays holographic data on his perception of the world around him. He grudgingly admits that this is a handy feature, though if the Andalites use it only for battle situations, they are sorely underusing its potential. He tucks the processor portion of the computer next to his cube computer in its designated belt-pouch. Finally he makes his way over to the small field-bins holding the impact detonators and grabs a couple of them to strap to his belt. He turns back toward Keslin. "I am heavily uncomfortable with this, Keslin."
He glances at Nefitt. What the man said was true...they didn't belong here. But he finds himself already thinking of his small quarters as a home. It was, admittedly, much nicer than any home he'd had before. That wasn't to disparage the base they'd lost, it had its own quaint charm, but seeing nothing but rock and tarnished steel got old after awhile, especially when his host preferred tall forests and open sky through a dense canopy. "There are...things...we should discuss before speaking so...openly, Nefitt." He glances around himself at the Andalites gathered in the small armory room. There were such opportunities for tech here...but he wouldn't expect a medic like Nefitt to understand that. Still, the man should be a bit more diplomatic given the current situation.
Serid quickly arms himself with an ASAR and a couple of impact detonators, already wearing his own personal ARC unit. He frowns at the Yeerk called Nefitt...the man was entitled to his opinions, but Prince Ossanlin had not given these people any reason to distrust him. Quite the opposite in fact. <Very well...Keslin. A medkit, of course.> He goes to another stasis cabinet and pulls out a hard-case designed to be clipped to a belt. He frowns again at the condescending tone that Nefitt uses, but doesn't comment upon it. <Here...> He hands the hard-case to Nefitt. <There are medicines in there, and yes, they are engineered for Andalite usage. I believe that Varekil and your...Farrah...hav e begun work in the med-bay lab to re-engineer some of our medicines to be safely usable by other species. Simply avoid the injection ampoules. One contains a pain-suppressor, the second contains antibiotic, and the third contains synthetic adrenaline. There is a small dermal-mender which can close lacerations swiftly and effectively. There's also a laser-cauterizer to stop internal bleeding if necessary. Human hands should be capable of manipulating the implements successfully.>
He turns his main eyes back to Keslin. <Do you require anything else?>
-
<I will keep the setting low enough to not inflict permanent damage.> Ferxal said. He decided he would equip himself the same as Serid. Back on previous missions, this kind of thing was already done beforehand, and given to the Warriors right before battle. Though that may have simply been how Prince Foosal wanted it done. His way and nothing else, including that equipment he thought was best for the occasion. Of course if Ferxal ever wanted to become Prince, he would need to start taking initiative, and the military did expect soldiers to work towards getting that next promotion.
If the Yeerks decided not to stay with this crew, there was little point in Ferxal staying either. Perhaps he would wait until the rebels made their ultimate decision before he made his.
-
Varit shrugs, a terrifying gesture in his Taxxon body as he slithers along beside Keshin. "Resseliss isn't your average Taxxon," he says. "He's curious, and bright." At the glow of pride he feels from Resseliss, he cuts his string of compliments short. It wouldn't do to have a starving, self-righteous Taxxon as a host. "To his former Yeerks, he was always simply a host, but when he became my host... Well, I saw no harm in trying to help him nurture his spark of curiosity, to help him grow beyond being just another Taxxon." He pauses, thinking for a moment, then says, "I suppose we've had... some success."
"Turelek?" Varit echoes. "I think you're the first one I've ever met." The thought of one who lives outside of the law, outside of any organization, unsettles him greatly, and it shows in his tensed, arched stance as he walks. The Rebellion may exist outside of the Empire, but it is... was... still an organized, effective society.
He finds himself eying Keshin differently... speaking more slowly, picking out his words carefully. "Jobs..." he repeats. "You mean... assassinations. You kill people." He pauses, gulps some air, then asks the question at the forefront of his mind, "Who do you work for?"
Aetheas hangs a respectful distance back from Ossanlin and Keslin as they form the boarding party. He watches as the party leaves, then turns his main eyes to Ossanlin. <Are you sure allowing that Ferxal to board is wise?> he asks bluntly. <What if he betrays us? What if he tries to contact the Electorate?>
-
Ossanlin turns back to his console as Aetheas speaks, echoing the very same thoughts he'd had himself about including Ferxal in such a sensitive mission. He'd argued back and forth with himself regarding the pros and cons...he only hopes he's made the correct decision. <<I have considered many angles of the situation, Warrior. The fact is, we can use him. I hope that by extending trust, he will extend his to us. He's a close-combat specialist, which makes him a perfect choice for the given situation...at least as far as his skill-set is concerned. And unlike you, he is...expendable. Not a pleasant truth, but a truth all the same. I won't say it would be convenient for him to become injured in this raid, I'm not that cold, but it certainly would not be inconvenient.>>
He turns his main eyes to his console, directing a stalk eye at Aetheas instead. <<His record shows a history of following orders, not even a registered reprimand. And he is surrounded by five others who would show little compunction in subduing him should he step out of line.>> He pauses for a couple of moments before continuing. <<Command is about careful consideration. It's about the weighing of options and logical planning. But in the end, Aetheas...sometimes a Prince has to take a gamble. You can't be afraid to take chances if you want to command, Warrior. You shouldn't be reckless, but you can't shy away in the face of uncertainty. Things aren't nice and neat and tidy, not in the real world. There will be situations where there are no good answers, so you choose the best one and hope. You merely must be ready to accept the responsibility for your decisions.>> He sends a message to the Docking Hangar to prepare one of the ship's two remaining transport shuttles for the Off-board Team. He speaks, still in private thought to Aetheas, but his tone is more that of one speaking to himself. <<People will die under your command...they will die because of your decisions.>> He takes a deep breath. <<You just have to live with it.>>
-
Keslin watches Firin arm himself, keeping one eye on Nefitt.
"I know, Firin," he says, sighing a little. "But consider it an opportunity. We used to run raids on Yeerk ships all the time. This is no different. Well...not much different," he amends, glancing at Serid.
"No, Serid, I think we're set. Unless there is anything you would recommend. You're far more familiar with this technology than we are."
Nefitt scowls a little at Firin's words. "Discuss when?" he hisses under his breath, not caring if Keslin can hear or not. "Our so-called leaders are too busy kissing Andalite tail to bother listening to reason." He accepts the medical kit from Serid without a word, but is careful not to let his borrowed human hands touch the Andalite's flesh, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
-
Ferxal makes no comment on the conversation between the Yeerks. He is an outside observer, looking in towards a situation that had never crossed his mind in his military career. While he admitted to himself that Yeerks and Andalites working together would not break the physics of the universe and cause its collapse, it just didn't seem like a realistic scenario that would happen while there were people alive that had seen the start of the war. Maybe if the war ended, and there had been an uneasy peace long enough for the participants to all die of old age, but not while conflicts still raged across the galaxy.
One might bring up the fact that the leader of this particular mission, aboard this Andalite ship, was a Yeerk. It seemed like a truly genuine effort to cooperate with the rebel leadership, even if Nefitt didn't realize. On the other hand, Ferxal couldn't prove that it wasn't just a token gesture to give the rebels enough pause to fulfill an ulterior motive. Prince Ossanlin didn't have the reputation of someone who would pull an underhanded stunt, to his knowledge, but his reputation amongst Andalites likely didn't matter to rebels.
-
Firin runs one of Rythil's hands over his head-horns. "Yes we did. If you recall, I didn't like it then either." He shakes his head a bit...there had always been others willing to run the raids before...and other Hork-Bajir too...he feels Rythil's sadness and anger well up at that thought and quickly closes his mind off from that of his host. The free Hork-Bajir on the base had been a true gem, each one liberated from Imperial palps...every single one would have to be...there were no more free Hork-Bajir still alive. But with so many gone, Firin doubts he will still be afforded the luxury of having a Hork-Bajir host that is not used for battle. And he would never leave Rythil, ever. Not unless Rythil asked him to...so he would stick through the thick and the thin with his friend...really the only other being to earn that title from him. "Necessities...neces sities."
It wasn't as if he and Rythil hadn't been trained in warfare...the Empire had used them for guards and shock-troops for nearly their entire time together. It made sense for Keslin to include him. He quickly runs a clawed hand over the respectable weapon in his hands...he'd have to try and dissect one of these little gems later. He cycles the weapon through its different modes before leaving it on 'Safety.'
He glances at Nefitt darkly and talks lowly. "Perhaps when there are a few less ears and tails around us."
Serid frowns at Nefitt before repressing a chuckle. He knows his own race, and no longer shares their prejudices, but to see a Yeerk actually wrinkle his host's nose at an Andalite...the hypocrisy was almost laughable.
<Very well...Keslin. I can direct us to the docking hangars...by your leave?> Serid makes as much effort as he can to show a respectable deference to the Yeerk. How odd...but Serid has a unique perspective, having been a human nothlit for many years of his life. He had given an oath to uphold Prince Ossanlin and his ideals. The miraculous recovery of his andalite body was enough to garner his loyalty besides. So he would do his best to see Ossanlin's goals come to fruition, if at all possible.
-
Keshin laughs, although the laugh sounds a bit bitter and awkward. He has no idea why in the world they sent him over to drop off the Taxxon--- Probably because the rest of the ship's business will go better if the two biggest liabilities are together and out of the way. Joanne's mind tugged at his own, as if suggesting "Don't forget me." Building trust was clearly going to take a long time, and at the rate it was going it might not happen at all. He wasn't sure there was a way to get around the many times he'd tried to murder Myitt One-Nine-Five.....let alone what happened to Ossanlin.
"We don't work for anyone except Ossanlin at the moment," he says to Varit to clarify. They're not far from the Pool at this point, although it's really more of an awkward portable construction. Neither Keshin or Joanne had any idea how either the Rebellion or the Andalites managed to get this thing together, but he was vaguely impressed. "We were contract killers and bounty hunters--- We took jobs from the Rebellion and the Empire in equal measure. As a result well..." Keshin puts his hand in the pocket of his jumpsuit. "...nobody on this ship trusts us at all. And we don't blame them--- We've got a history."
"As for the Taxxon..." Keshin frowns, his posture seeming uneven. "...it's rare to find one with an ounce of curiosity about anything but food. Does that have something to do with how he ended up in the Rebellion?"
-
Aetheas nods absently as Ossanlin speaks, trying to remember what he'd read in Ferxal's personnel file. He'd only skimmed it briefly; there have been so many personnel files he's read in the last week, they all seem to be running together in his memory. Besides which, they're hardly the most interesting part of his training. The Captain seems to have gleaned more from Ferxal's file than he has.
Keeping his main eyes on Ossanlin, he orders his ARC to display the file in the air to his right side, and he skims it with his stalk eyes as the Captain speaks. He doesn't really manage to take any of it in, however. He's distracted by Ossanlin's words; words which spark thoughts going in a thousand different directions.
There's the reaction to what Ossanlin is actually saying. Leadership is a balancing act, a precarious line, a constant pull between taking risks and playing it safe, and he is certain he doesn't yet know where that line is. Leaders will fail, same as anyone else, but when he fails, the consequences can be disastrous. Even fatal. Aetheas finds himself nodding. <I hope I am ready when the time comes,> he says earnestly, though it is clear from his tone that he does not yet see command in his immediate future.
The rest of what runs through his mind is... more complicated. He finds himself staring at the Captain, trying to imagine a time when War-Prince Ossanlin can have failed... unsure whether he's simply imagined the hint of pain in the Captain's voice. He resolves to start spending more time with the personnel files-- all the personnel files, including Ossanlin's. Again, he finds himself in awe of Ossanlin, for more reasons than one. Nobody has ever taken Aetheas under their guidance before. Very seldom has anyone seemed to think he could amount to being anything more than a vecol, and for that reason, the only expectations he's ever really had to live up to have been his own. For the first time in as long as he can remember, he finds himself afraid that he won't be able to live up to the Captain's expectations-- to what this ship and its crew needs.
<I have been watching you,> he says to the War-Prince, <and the other commanders aboard. I believe I am beginning to understand what is required to command.> The seldom-seen hint of a smile crosses his eyes as he shuts off his ARC again. <Experience. I am attempting to see where the lines and appropriate restrictions are. I have never had to watch for the well-being of a crew before, aside from completing my duties.> He hesitates, and without explaining his thoughts, says, sincerely, <Thank you, Captain.>
Varit laughs and responds almost automatically, "Oddly, no. Not directly, anyway. That was mostly bad luck and poor decisions on my part." He takes a deep breath, sighing at the aroma of the nutrient-rich Yeerk pool. It's not exactly the Hilton, but it'll do. "Host sympathy is considered a weakness in the empire. I was unlucky enough to be found out. I was lucky enough to escape alive. I suppose having an... unusual Taxxon host helped to keep me sympathetic. Having friends in the Peace Movement didn't hurt either."
He finds himself eying Keshin warily. "A contract killer." He looks around-- something he can do without having to turn his head or body-- and then leans closer. "It seems like that would give you a very... unique skill-set. Potentially a very useful one." His voice is wavering, and it's clear to anyone who can read Taxxon responses that he's not entirely comfortable having this conversation. "But then... it would also make you very, very difficult to trust." He pauses, "I think I'm beginning to understand the way Keslin was looking at you."
"So," he says lightly, changing tones quickly, "where can I hang up my host so that I can feed?"
<<Me next!>> says Resseliss excitedly.
-
"We do what we have to do," Keslin says, the words sounding forced even to him. He hitches a shoulder in an apologetic shrug and turns to Serid. "Yes, let's hurry. I want to get this over with." He pauses, then adds, "Thank you, Serid."
Nefitt frowns at Firin. "Wishful thinking," he mutters, clutching the first aid kit close. Still, he follows Keslin and Serid willingly enough.
-
Ferxal was eager to get this started. Normally it was not proper to outpace the person in charge, but the Human's walking speed seemed so slow. Not that his impatient showed through the emotionless face that masked his deeper thoughts. He would have to keep a close eye on Keslin in the future. He was obviously a leader among the rebels, and Prince Ossanlin had given him a great privilege by allowing him to command Andalites.
-
Ossanlin nods to Aetheas, main eyes still on his console. <<Command is both honor and burden. I expect you'll be able to shoulder that burden. You'll need to as TO. I wouldn't have placed you in this situation, Aetheas, unless I believed that you could handle it.>> He pauses a moment before continuing. <<Respect is a two-way vein, Aetheas. Show respect to everyone, that is the best way to earn it in return. Respect and honor are bound as closely as shorm. One cannot have honor without respect. Self-control is also tantamount. How can you expect to command others when you cannot master command of yourself? You have great potential, Aetheas...I want you to fulfill it.>>
Serid nods again to Keslin. <Very well, this way please.> Serid makes his way down the corridors and ramp-wells to the docking hangar. He moves quickly to the irregular hangar where he notes that a tactical transport has already been prepared for their arrival. He shoulders his ASAR and commands the craft to open. The smooth, oblong transport opens in the back, lights catching and glinting off of its silver hull. He moves into the small space designed to transport up to ten Andalites including the pilots. He begins the transport's warm-up sequence and turns his main eyes to regard Keslin. <Do you wish to pilot, Keslin?>
Firin sighs and nods at Keslin. He glowers a bit at Nefitt and quickly follows the group through the corridors, committing everything along the corridors and wells to his eidetic memory. Once they reach the docking hangar again, he looks around at the bustling hub of activity. To think, this ship was less than half-staffed, and still resembled a kicked anthill. He fears to imagine what it must be like with a full complement of bluefurs.
-
"That might be a bit of a problem," states Keshin, glancing hungrily at the churning liquid metal waters of the Pool. He was a tad peckish, given that he last ate about a day and a half ago, but it was nothing he couldn't tolerate. He had to get this Taxxon guy sorted out. "Most of the Rebellion hosts are human and so have little problem just standing around the pool, waiting for the Yeerk to resurface for them. There are a couple chairs and a wall over there," states Keshin awkwardly, pointing to the folding chair area. Again, he had no idea where the Rebellion got half of this crap. Maybe it came in via the last rendezvous?
What was worse was the primitiveness of it all--- The folding chairs reminded him of some dim memory of Joanne's elementary school graduation. Or a senior citizen Bingo event. He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "As for me....that's about the gist of it," he said carelessly. "Although I don't see how being good at killing people is going to help us in the War-Prince's hippy-happy spaceship of brotherhood."
-
Keslin steps onto the ship, looking around the interior appreciatively. “No, Serid,” he says. “I’d prefer for you to pilot, actually.” He rests one hand gently on a console, getting a feel for the Andalite design. He can definitely sense the parallels between the transport and the Dome ship. There is something incredibly Andalite about it…though he cannot put his finger on how.
Nefitt continues to follow in relative silence, clutching the first aid kit as though it is his only line of protection, ignoring even the Dracon at his side. He stays a few feet behind Firin, taking care to avoid the Hork-Bajir’s big tail. When they enter the docking bay he does what he can to avoid the Andalites milling about, and the few that come too close for comfort earn scathing, suspicious glares.
He only seems to calm a little once he is on the ship, loosening his grip on the medical kit and eyeing the cabin curiously.
“Let’s make this quick,” Keslin says, glancing at Firin and Nefitt as they board. He keeps a small portion of his attention on Ferxal as well – the Andalite warrior is a completely unknown variable. Which, of course, means that it is best to make him feel a part of things.
“Ferxal,” he says, calling to the Andalite warrior. “Why don’t you come show me and my people the most effective way to utilize the ASAR’s without a telepathic connection. We’d appreciate the assistance.” He notes Nefitt’s obvious stiffening, but ignores it for the time being. The jumpy medic will have to learn.
-
<Very well, Keslin> Serid makes his way to the front left console and places one hand on the interface panel, the other on the touch-panel controls. He checks to make sure the whole team is aboard and commands the hatch to seal as the cabin air normalizes within its own recirculation system. He lifts off and exits the Tyrennian through the selective shielding of the irregular bay. <We have obtained U-space.>
He loops the transport around in a wide arc to face the damaged freighter and punches up a medium burn to close the distance. Two of Lightning-strike's fighters form up as an escort as the ship flies smoothly toward the Yeerk craft. Serid pilots the transport toward the freighter's one and only docking bay. The emergency containment field is active, indicating the continued primary power failure aboard the vessel. Emergency containment fields were made to be passable by any craft in a state of emergency, so the transport slides right through the reddish-gold energy field to touch down just inside. <The interior appears vacant.> Serid speaks up openly, though the comment is directed toward Keslin.
Firin represses Rythil's adrenaline spike as the craft hits black space. He begins running through combat routines in his head as the ARC HUD mounted over his right eye continues to give him real-time holographic overlays on the environment. It even highlights those aboard the ship in a green hue. Oh yes, the technology had many possible ramifications.
He fights the anxiety in both his own mind and that of Rythil as the transport passes through that reddish-gold barrier. Setting foot once again on an Imperial craft is something that makes both uncomfortable.
-
Ferxal preferred his own blade to any other weapon, but the ASAR was a new rifle the military had come up with and it was hard for him to not at least be temporarily interested in new military technology. He explained it the best way he could to the controllers, only briefly wondering if he really should be describing Andalite technology to any non Andalite. There were, after all, strict rules against sharing technology, or information about technology, to other species. Yet here he was, showing off a state of the art rifle to Yeerks.
<The fourth mode, with its sustained beam used for very close range, would be my personal recommendation.> Ferxal said after describing the first three modes. <If we're expecting the enemy to use energy shields, that mode will likely burn through them quickly and incapacitate them. There was a fifth mode that he didn't go over for the sake of time. Since it was an explosive overload, he doubted it would be needed in the mission.
After they docked, Ferxal walked up to take point, but still waited for Keslin's order. He was excited to do this, and assumed the Human controller would want someone with blades in front. Unless he actually chose the Hork-Bajir controller to take point.
-
Keslin watches the Imperial freighter loom closer out of the corner of his eye while he listens to Ferxal's explanations. His expression remains impassive as he handles the unfamiliar, Andalite weapon.
"I will rely on my own weapons," Nefitt says when Ferxal finishes his explanation. "Our technology is improved Andalite technology as it is. There is no need to backtrack."
"It's modified, not necessarily improved," Keslin says stiffly, shouldering the ASAR. "And a lot of time has passed since we had ready access to Andalite advancements." He gives Nefitt a small smile. "Your job here is to keep the hosts alive, if possible. Hopefully you won't have to worry about shooting."
He considers the seemingly empty interior of the docking bay. "Ferxal, Firin, I want you out first," he says, noting that Ferxal has already taken up position. "Don't forget about the energy shields. I have no idea how powerful they are, but it will likely take a couple of well-placed shots before you can even think of hitting them. If it gets tight, your blades may be more beneficial. Firin, if you have a chance to snag some of the energy shield constructs, grab them. We need that technology, and I need you to be the one to examine it."
He unlimbers his Dracon, trying to ignore the surge of adrenaline that is making Chris' heartrate spike. "I'll be just behind you. Serid, you and Nefitt cover the back. If Nefitt needs to abandon his weapon in favor of his med kit I need you to protect him."
<<You know how this goes, eh?>> he whispers to Chris, trying to still the tremors that plague his host's body when he is in control. <<I'll give you control if we need to shoot. I'll take control if we need to issue commands.>>
<<I got it,>> Chris says, not without some distaste. <<I'll shoot straight, don't worry. It's been awhile, but I haven't forgotten.>>
-
Ferxal made no comment towards Nefitt's blatantly untrue remark. It was almost laughable to think a primitive tribe that needed to steal advanced technology just to be relevant would consider anything they did an improvement. Still, his expression remained blank, and his eyes focused on the goal at hand. It was good of Keslin to correct him, though.
He stepped quietly forward, listening to any sounds, but all was quiet. Did the imperials hope the Andalites would just take their supplies and leave them? Were they lying in wait to ambush the boarding party? He had hoped he wouldn't have to seek out a fight. Being high on adrenaline and excitement, without any enemy in sight, caused some Andalites to make mistakes. Now he was just standing in an empty room, on edge and trying to pick up on the faintest sign of trouble. This wasn't the cathartic fight that he wanted. This was a search mission. Why wouldn't they just come out and let the Ellemist decide the victor? He was fortunate to have trained himself not to give in to rash behavior.
He kept a stalk eye on the door leading out of the docking room and he methodically searched it to secure the area. If need be, they would just have to search each room at a time. The last time he did this, his Prince had them laser weld the doors to small rooms shut. Keep any hidden enemies from moving through already secured areas. They looted what they wanted without encountering the pilot or any other crew, and just blasted what was left to atoms after they left. Since part of the objective was rescuing hosts, they really had to be careful.
-
"As you wish, Keslin." Firin allows Rythil's adrenaline output to heighten their senses as he steps out behind the Andalite called Ferxal. His head sweeps back and forth constantly, his situational awareness kicking back in. He doesn't like fighting, but his hork-bajir host had necessitated the training, and he'd endeavored to be good at fighting just to stay alive.
The hum of the energy field and the whirring of the ship's atmospheric systems were the only things he could hear underneath the repeating buzzer-claxon that indicated severe distress. Suddenly some information pops up on his ARC display...it was live-linked to the Tyrennian. The sensor information still showed at least seven life-signs, one of them very weak. He scans the room actively as he follows Ferxal toward the door. His ARC shows some strange energy signs coming from the access-point, but he thinks little of it.
As he approaches the closed door, his ARC suddenly shows an energy spike and he instinctually dives to the side as an energy explosion rips through the door followed by a hail of 'tseews' from Dracons. Of course, this door was a choke-point, and the only convenient boarding position...small numbers benefited from choke points.
"Dapsen!" Firin rolls to his feet and crouches off to the side of the door, firing a few bursts of repetitive fire into the doorway. Explosions of heat and light spring up from the impacts of the weapons, smoke curling up to add to that which was already hazing the air near the ceiling. Suddenly, small red fields pop up on his ARC display....the thing was actually predicting enemy locations from calculating the firing angles of the red beams lancing through the door. He pulls one of the impact detonators from his belt and pushes the small panel to activate the timer, lobbing it through the doorway. A muted thud echoes from the room as the device goes off. The dracon-fire wanes a bit, but doesn't stop completely. He glances at Keslin while still pumping small bursts of intense blue shredder-fire through the doorway.
Rythil roars inside their head with rage. The hork-bajir had been keeping things pent up since the base had been destroyed by the Andalites...he was finally starting to let it all go. <<You took my home!! You'll all PAY!>>
<<...>> Firin says nothing, hoping the release is what his friend needs to regain his normal, sweet disposition. He'd been utterly insufferable of late.
Serid nods to Keslin. <Yes, Keslin.> He steps out just in front of Nefitt into the empty hangar. Many of the small craft have been shifted or knocked onto their sides. Of course, this being a freighter, there weren't very many in the first place. This ship was made for cargo.
He keeps a stalk-eye on the surly Yeerk behind him as he scans the hangar himself, his ARC providing live updates. His main eyes are ripped toward the door as an explosion rings through the hangar. He keeps his body between the door and Neiftt, returning fire as dracon beams lance through the now-open doorway. <Hostiles detected.>
Ossanlin watches his display as the ARC's feed him a live visual picture from the point of view of each person wearing them. Normally this would be the comms officer's responsibility, but with no comms officer...<Confirmed. Hostiles encountered. Is anyone hurt?> His voice would echo through the minds of any boarding-party member wearing an ARC. Normally the team-leader would respond, but he'd not instructed Keslin on all of the Andalite protocols...he hadn't wanted to come off as condescending.
-
Ferxal dove towards the wall as he saw the door give way to dracon fire. Apparently the Yeerks had been in the other room, waiting for the boarding party to stride on through. He pressed himself against the wall near the doorway, figuring they couldn't get him from this angle without sticking an arm through the doorway, or blasting more holes through the wall. Something they probably didn't have the firepower to do.
<Yes.> He said, clearly gleeful at finally getting into a fight, showing a slight bloodlust in his face. The Hork-Bajir controller had been smart to throw a detonator in. He watched the doorway carefully, ready to shoot anything that tried to enter the room. With his tail, he attempted to pull a metal crate closer to him to use as a shield.
-
Keslin steps off the ramp behind Ferxal and Firin, giving the two of them plenty of tail room. The ARC’s interface lights up, bombarding him with unfamiliar colors and symbols. He spends a moment trying to make sense of it before he gives up, shifting the device into the pocket of Chris’ jeans.
<<Something to make sense of when we aren’t in the middle of battle,>> he murmurs, relying instead on his own – well, Chris’ own – two eyes.
The sudden explosion of shots makes him jump, and has slipped out of control almost immediately. Chris brings his Dracon up to bear, his hands much steadier as he watches the doorway. He continues to hang back, letting Firin and Ferxal take care of the initial onslaught.
“****ing Imperials,” Chris mutters, resisting the urge to dial his Dracon all the way up. With the ARC in his pocket he doesn’t hear Ossanlin, has nothing to distract him but the sounds of Dracon fire.
“Either we force our way in or they force their way out!” Chris calls, hoping he’s loud enough to be heard over the shots. “Ferxal, get in there. Firin, cover him.” He hopes that sending the Andalite in first will help his own people survive. Ferxal is, by far, the most expendable member of the crew – and one who does not seem bothered by charging into battle.
Nefitt hangs back, behind Serid. He keeps his Dracon out, held in his right hand but pointed at the floor. In his left hand he holds the medical kit, knuckles white around the handle. “You seen battle often, Andalite?” he asks Serid with quiet gruffness, glancing at the grass eater.
-
<As you command!> Ferxal said. At this point he didn't care who was giving the orders. Yeerk, Andalite, or other. He had dutifully waiting for instruction, but now he was allowed to wade into the fight. <If today is the day I die, let it be the heat of battle, and not suffocating in a blown out fighter.> He still knew in the back of his mind that he might find himself fired upon from both sides. That the rebels may see him as nothing more than dracon fodder at this point.
He hefted the metal crate around, and threw it forward as best he could through the door. Dracons lit up in a flurry as they focused on whatever moved in front of the doorway, and Ferxal used it for what it was worth to cover his own entrance. Inside the room, the imperials were hidden behind shelves and transport platforms turned on their sides. Whatever they could use to protect themselves. There wasn't anything he could see on his side of the room, as everything had been moved out of the way. He switched the ASAR to mode two, and peppered the enemy with rapid shots as cover fire as he attempted to maneuver his crate to the nearest corner. There was a side door to another room that he tried to get to, and hopefully it would allow him the cover he needed to safely fire from another angle.
-
<It would appear that everyone remains uninjured, Prince.> Serid says, knowing his though-speech will be picked up and transmitted by the ARC's live-link. He glances a stalk-eye back toward Nefitt, surprised in spite of himself. He figured the surly controller already knew everything he wanted to about Andalites, and more that wasn't necessarily true.
He fires a few shots at the blown-open doorway. <I suppose you could say I've seen enough. Back on earth, I was in many fights before I was betrayed and forced to become a human nothlit.>
Firin curses to himself and once again wonders how he gets himself into these situations before rolling in front of the door and hosing the room at large with a long blast of the ASAR's pulse-beam fire to try and cover the crazy Andalite. He catches glimpses of controllers. He sees at least three Taxxons and two humans. The rest he cannot tell. One of the Taxxons had barricaded itself behind a flipped metallic rack or table of some sort. It seemed to be absorbing the shredder fire to some extent. He quickly ducks out from the doorway as he feels the heat of Dracon beams skimming by him. Hopefully the Andalite was still alive.
He quickly switches the ASAR to its HY mode and listens to it as it over-charges. His ARC generates a virtual scope and he once again marvels at the seamless integration of sensory input meshed with real-time output. When the blue charge light on the ASAR ignites, he rolls back in front of the door, aiming straight for the rack where he'd seen the Taxxon before. As he pulls the trigger, the weapon unleashes a blinding, searingly bright blue bolt. The ARC had polarized his right eye for the shot, so it continues to see perfectly, but his left eye is painfully blinded.
"Dapsen!" He dives out of the doorway, but not before he hears the distinctive Taxxon scream of pain. The bolt had slagged straight through the metallic rack and seared a mortal wound through the Taxxon's worm-like body.
-
<Get your ASAR out of HY mode, Firin!> Ferxal said as he was momentarily blinded by the shot. He manages to get the door open and back inside, giving himself enough cover to regain his vision. He could hear the death screams of a Taxxon. <The objective was to keep hosts alive!>
Not that it was his place to reprimand someone else's soldier, but he prided himself on following the objective to the best of his abilities. Surely he had accurately explained that the third, HY mode was best used for long distance targets, so it could be inferred that this was not the best scenario for that mode. Perhaps Firin was not very intelligent.
In any case, if there was anything left of the Taxxon controller, the other Taxxons would be on him in an instant. In a feeding frenzy, they might even bite the Humans. This would not be his problem, though, as he heard the heavy steps of at least one Hork-Bajir behind him. Apparently the Hork-Bajir controller had the idea of flanking the invading party from the side as they focused on the barricaded group.
<Hork-Bajir in the side room!> He called as the enemy lunged at him. The room was dim, and his eyes were recovering, but his other senses let him block and swing as he battled in the way he had done for years. Blade to blade. The greatest form of combat.
-
Firin frowns to himself as the Andalite orders him around...did they all think they could do that? Obviously the Andalite hadn't seen that he'd used the overcharge shot to melt through the Taxxon's cover. But then...perhaps it had been a bit much for close-quarters. He growls a bit as the Andalite speaks of saving hosts. While that was certainly true for the humans...well...som e Taxxons were different, but most were voracious, appetite-driven beasts. He knew from his experience with the Rebellion just how hard it was to keep Taxxons alive, fed, and under control. That sort of problem was not needed aboard the Dome Ship right now.
He spots a human out of the corner of his eye, a young male, perhaps in his twenties, level a Dracon right at his head. He dives back behind the cover of the shattered door-frame and fires a few quick bursts, his ASAR reverting to pulse-fire mode. A translucent orangy-red oval of energy lights up around the young human as the shredder shots splash against...nothing.. .in midair. One of the personal shield-generators! He quickly performs some calculations in his head, using the ARC's data feed to monitor how much punishment the shield might be able to absorb.
"Impressive...." He says to himself just as he hears the Andalite call out about a Hork-Bajir in a side room of some sort. He growls and shakes his head...they did NOT need a Hork-Bajir to deal with right now, Firin knew from experience. But suddenly a golden shot of hope blossoms from Rythil's mind, strong enough to pierce the miasma of anger. Perhaps if the Hork-Bajir could be saved, having to deal with it now would not be such a bad thing after all.
-
Aetheas nods in response to Ossanlin's words, but remains silent, lost in thought, until reports reach the bridge that the boarding party has reached the floundering Yeerk transport. He listens and watches the displays around him as the situation unfolds for a few moments, before sending commands to the ship to route the display through his own ARC and datapad. He'll have to figure out how to improve the efficiency of the ship's display at a later date, but for now, his preferred layout, customized interface, and combined 2-D and 3-D displays allow him to access the information coming in and keep track of the information in a way he's much more comfortable with.
He watches the information being routed from the boarding party's computers to the Tyrennian and back with anxiety, attempting to learn all he can and hoping this will not result in high casualties. Their resources are stretched as it is... though, admittedly, a little less-so, now that the members of the Rebellion are beginning to integrate and take on some of the less-critical tasks aboard the ship.
He pays particular attention to the readouts pertaining to the Yeerk energy shielding as it pours in. Andalite information on the Yeerk devices' capabilities is notoriously limited. His stalk eyes continue to scan back and forth through his various displays, while with his main eyes he runs calculations and information checks against everything he's seeing, flipping back and forth from the primary tactical display to the ship's database to the calculations being performed in real-time by his ARC and the Tyrennian and back again. There's something exhilarating about trying to keep up with the battle and the information unfolding in real-time, and his excitement and agitation show in his eyes and in his posture.
Varit stifles a laugh. "'Spaceship of Brotherhood.' This whole situation is ludicrous. Andalites giving up their homes to help Yeerks. Even..." he eyes Keshin warily, "tureleks. If anyone would have use for your... unique skill set, I imagine it would be this band of outlaws."
He stares longingly at the pool. He's so hungry... he just wants to dive in... but he has a responsibility to his host and to the surviving rebels... and perhaps the Andalites too, if Keslin is to be believed.
"As much as I trust my host," he admits, "and as much self-control as Resseliss has, I can't just be letting him run free where he could eat something... or someone... he's not supposed to, or get cut in half trying."
<<I'd be good,>> Resseliss says.
<<You'd try,>> corrects Varit.
"Is there... maybe a room we can put him in while I feed? Empty quarters or a storage closet or something?" he asks. "I hate to be a bother, but the best way to do this might be to lock him in somewhere and have you carry me back here..." He sounds apologetic, and is clearly not comfortable asking so much from this stranger.
-
Ferxal fought hard against the Hork-Bajir, in the darkened room. The controller tried to force him back out, into the line of fire of the other controllers, but he knew he had to stand his ground. It wouldn't be so hard if he could just slice his enemy up, but his objective was to leave this Hork-Bajir alive. Their thick skull and natural resistance to pain would make it hard to incapacitate him with his tail, and he was too close for Ferxal to use his rifle without there being backlash. He couldn't afford to leave himself stunned, just to bring down one enemy.
To end the fight, he decided he needed to use more than his tail to win. Against the wall, he pushed off with his tail and hind legs to barrel into the Hork-Bajir controller, using the rifle as a sort of shield to keep him from being impaled. His front hooves hit the enemy's hips, and he fell back, with Ferxal running over him to the opposite side of the room. His legs had been cut up a bit, which wasn't surprising, but he managed to get enough distance to safely use the rifle and bring the controller down.
<<Commander Keslin.>> He said privately. <<I have cleared the room, and need to know if I should try to come around the fortified enemy from behind, or stay close to Firin. Please tell Warrior Serid what you prefer, and he can relay it back to me.>>
-
Keshin glances up nervously, aware of the battle transpiring while he chats up a Taxxon-Controller. Keshin grips his outfit's color, knowing that the others set this up to get them out of the way. They honestly couldn't have picked a worse time to mistrust the turelek--- If there's one thing that Keshin and Joanne know, it's how to fight and kill. Why should he bother making an effort to trust the War-Prince if it's obvious neither the War-Prince nor the rebellion trusts them?
"Yeah, but apparently they're so scared of us betraying them they're not even using that skill set during a battle," chuckles Keshin warily. "I think, in a sense Varit, you and your friend are going to be stuck in the same boat. We can stay on the ship, but they treat us like we're a liability. ....I suppose that should be expected."
Keshin listens with a quizzical look after this as Varit outlines his plan. "That isn't going to be pleasant for you, but we could probably.....probab ly do it," states Keshin with a shrug. "I can understand why you're wary about your host...and there's probably a spare room somewhere near the crew quarters for the Rebellion."
<We're helpin' him?>
<It's better than doing nothing for him. We have no reason to refuse. .....not at the moment.>
-
Keslin winces at the sounds of battle within the room, but he hangs back, letting Firin and the Andalite lead the charge. They had the advantage of natural weapons, and he could not very well lead the mission if someone incapacitated him.
"Serid, tell Ferxal and Firin both to fan out and relieve the Imperials of their weapons and any other technology," Keslin says. He nods to Nefitt. "Go take care of any injuries. Our people first, then the Imperials. If they're beyond saving, end it quickly for them."
Nefitt nods, doubling his grip on the medical kit and slipping into the room.
"Serid, cover Nefitt. I'm going to do a final circuit of this room and then I'll follow. Make sure there aren't any other Imperials lurking in that room." He gives Serid a grim smile. "If we're lucky, we may have a number of freed slaves today."
He turns to do a circuit of the room they landed in. Seemingly empty since their arrival, he doesn't expect to find much. The true battle seems to lie deeper within the guts of the ship, which makes sense. Deeper in the ship there are more places to hide, and more weapons stores to be found.
<<Just a cargo ship,>> he reminds himself.
<<We should clean if of Kandrona,>> Chris murmurs as Keslin pilots his body around the perimeter of the room.
<<Yes,>> Keslin agrees. <<And any human and Hork-Bajir food they have on hand. And Taxxon food,>> he adds, thinking of Varit.
He has nearly completed his circuit of the room and is about to declare it clean when a bit of movement catches his eye, behind a pile of cargo boxes. Frowning, he slides out of control, letting Chris' more steady grip control the Dracon.
"If you're waiting to jump out at me, the jig is up," Chris says loudly, leveling his weapon at the shadows.
Silence.
"Alright, fine, don't say I didn't warn you," Chris says, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"No wait!" a small voice cries out. Chris' eyebrows raise and he hesitates, stopping himself before the weapon discharges.
"Come out of there," Chris says. He squints, waiting as a form detaches itself from the shadows, looking up at him cautiously.
<<It's a child,>> Keslin says, aghast.
<<No older than ten,>> Chris agrees, eyeing the little boy doubtfully. He is wearing a standard Imperial uniform, and the Dracon he is clutching in his hands is ridiculously oversized -- meant for a Hork-Bajir's hands.
"Please don't shoot me," the little boy -- the Yeerk controlling the little boy -- says, wincing.
Chris adjusts his aim, lowering it so that it is level with the boy's chest. "It's on stun," he says. "You're going to be removed from that kid's head. He won't be harmed."
<<I can't shoot a kid!>> he says internally to Keslin, torn.
<<He'll be better for it, in the end,>> Keslin responds.
The Imperial boy shakes his head, shrinking back towards the shadows. "No, I can't leave him," he breathes. "I won't leave him with a bunch of Andalites and traitors to be used."
Chris blinks, then laughs. "Sorry, kid. You don't have much of a choice. You're--"
The child moves with uncanny, almost unbelievable speed, raising the oversized weapon and pulling the trigger before Chris can finish his sentence.
The shot takes Chris full in the chest. The force of it knocks him backwards and his head strikes the landing gear of his own ship. He collapses in a heap, a small river of red matting his blonde hair while his chest smokes.
"You're not taking him away from me," the boy Controller firmly repeats to Chris' prone, burnt and bleeding body.
-
Serid nods to Keslin, following Nefitt for a moment before his stalk-eye catches the movement of Keslin's body flying backward and crumpling behind a ship. <Keslin! Nefitt, Keslin is injured!>
Serid turns and gallops toward Keslin's body, small contrails of smoke wisping up behind the cargo ship. He spies the little human holding a Dracon immediately and unceremoniously downs him with a stun shot from his ASAR. He gallops up to Keslin and surveys the human-controller. He winces and speaks through his ARC.
<Sir, Keslin has been injured...severely.>
Ossanlin winces, but displays no other signs of his distress. Keslin was one of the few controllers he'd managed to make a breakthrough with, and he was an individual of influence within the rebellion. <All ground-team members withdraw to the cargo bay keep that bay secure and safe. I'm sending reinforcements.>
Ossanlin glances at one of the security officers on the bridge and he nods solemnly.
One of the andalites assigned to keep eyes on Keshin nods as he receives a communication. He drops all appearancers of non-challance and approaches Keshin, speaking. <You are the human-controller called Keshin, yes?> He holds out a private-band ARC unit and holo-emitter without waiting for an answer. <Don this...Prince Ossanlin needs to speak with you.>
Serid trains his ASAR on the door to the anteroom. <Ferxal, please withdraw to the docking hangar and assist Firin with holding the door against intrusion. Firin, cover him.>
Firin winces as he hears the Prince's voice echo through his head...he still isn't used to that. Probably never would be. He nearly turns to run toward Keslin as Serid makes his declaration, but his combat training, however much unwanted, keeps him from doing so. He soon hears Serid's voice in his head to cover the Andalite. He doesn't call out for fear of announcing their plans, but trusts that Ferxal will let him know when he's about to re-enter the anteroom which still has at least four live controllers barricaded and firing.
-
Ferxal winces as he hears that Keslin has been injured. Surely the controller would not have stood in front of the door, so that implied his earlier search of the room had been inadequate. He needed to get back to the docking bay, but how? The crate he had used as cover before had been disintegrated, and there was no apparent shield for him to use this time.
<I am working on it.> He said, trying to figure things out. Just then he saw the Hork-Bajir stir. Had he not set his rifle high enough to render the enemy completely unconscious? He was so unpracticed at this.
A sudden idea came to him. He walked over and placed his blade on the neck of the controller. <<Listen Yeerk. You can leave your host and die quickly, or you can stay and die screaming. Either way you know you will lose. Your crew will not stand against an entire Dome Ship.>>
Tense seconds passed as Ferxal waited, and luckily the Yeerk left so he could end it quickly. He convinced the Hork-Bajir to help him by exiting the room, and trying to join the controllers. He managed to stand long enough to stumble out, and try to crawl behind the barricade. At Ferxal's signal, he punched out the Human controller, causing enough of a distraction for Ferxal to help take down the resistance.
With the room cleared, he entered the docking bay. Aside from some small, superficial leg injuries, he was unharmed. He saw that the enemy was a small, or juvenile Human, which explained why he went unnoticed before.
"Me beat Yeerk." The Hork-Bajir said after he made it in.
<Good work.> Ferxal said. <I'm certain you'll be happier fighting against Yeerks than for them.>
-
Keshin blinks in surprise at the Andalite that seems to have appeared out of nowhere in the commotion. He glances at Varit and says, "Sorry, I have to take this," taking the ARC unit and private holo-emitter. He has some familiarity with holo-emitters, but it's been a while since he's actually had to use one. They receive most of their communications from either their Bug fighter or their comm.
<What do you figure the blue guy wants?>
<It has something to do with the battle, certainly. If they've just now decided to bring us in, something must have gone terribly wrong with the boarding party.>
Keshin then dons the ARC and opens into the communication with Ossanlin. "War-Prince Ossanlin," states Keshin sharply. "What is it?"
-
Ossanlin glances at Esarvit who's just confirmed his suspicions. The math didn't add up...his ARC blips open a private communication and he hears Keshin's words translated into thought-speech in his head. <<I'm not going to mince words with you Keshin. I can use your skills, so I'm giving you an opportunity. One of the boarding team has been injured badly. There appear also to be more life-forms aboard the ship than our long-range sensor scans can perceive. I believe that the personal shielding technology that some of the Imperials are using is also capable of hiding their life-signs from our sensors. The team is pinned down in the hangar bay defending the downed man.>>
He shakes his head to himself before continuing. <<I have had one of my warriors place an ASAR and several impact detonators in one of my pilot-devoid Tail Fighters. You will take the fighter to rendezvous with the boarding team and you will help them complete the mission and avoid casualties in whatever manner you can. The Tail-Fighter is programmed to stay within a 1000-clik radius of the Tyrennian...any further and it will shut down. If it helps you to think of this as a contract, merely remember what I'm able to ultimately pay you. Bring everyone back alive and silence the Imperials...and perhaps I will see my way clear to begin trusting you. Double-cross me, and I promise you I will personally hunt you to the edges of the Galaxy with no duties to get in my way. Understood?>>
-
A very slight, calm smile appears on Keshin's face. Ossanlin might recognize it as the unsettling expression of a self-interested person who sees a valuable opportunity for profit. He had been right on the mark--- Ossanlin needed them to help his boarding team kill or incapacitate a number of people in order to prevent any casualties during the raid. While protecting the injured liability. Well, that wasn't impossible for people like them. "If they're using personal technology that masks sensors, that's not unfamiliar to me," Keshin states. "These days it's not even as expensive."
"I understand the mission and the conditions," he states carefully, giving Ossanlin his undivided attention. "I'll go immediately after you dismiss me."
Truth be told, they were both probably itching for this conversation to end. Keshin quickly checked that Joanne's Dracon was charged and at her side, and Joanne glanced about her own body as if making a cursory examination. Everything seemed to be in order--- The biggest problem they had was Joanne's overall energy level on a rationed medicine supply. Still, they were in pretty good shape for this.
Hopefully, it was just like any other job. Except the "client," that is...
-
<<Very well. Proceed immediately to the hangar bay, your restriction has been lifted for this situation. The Tail Fighter has been moved to the irregular hangars for your convenience. I expect expediency.>> Ossanlin glances over his readouts, tapping a couple of holographic buttons before continuing. <<Do well here, Keshin...perhaps we can form a mutually-profitable relationship after all. Preserve life where you can, but kill if you must. Do NOT harm the boarding team. If you want this to work, you're going to be the edge of the blade. Ektaril will guide you to the hangar.>> Ossanlin closes his transmit portion of the communication, though Keshin's ARC continues to transmit visual and auditory data to Ossanlin's consoles.
The Warrior who'd handed Keshin the ARC wastes no time and turns back toward the ramp-well, cantering slowly enough that Keshin would be able to keep up at a jogging pace.
Serid's eyes widen as he hears Prince Ossanlin's communique. <<You are the mission lead now, Serid. I'm sending Keshin...like it or not, he has skills we can use. Once he's aboard, get Keslin and the Nefitt onto the Tail Fighter...we'll remote it back to the Tyrennian.>>
<<Yes, Prince.>>
<<Nefitt...Keslin needs medical attention urgently!>> He falls silent as he sees movement beyond the anteroom's far door...there were more Imperials...perhaps many more, though why they would have such a strong presence on a cargo ship is beyond him.
-
Keshin immediately begins to follow the Andalite named Ektaril down out of the main crew quarters area and in the direction of the hangar bay. Neither of the two are in this to waste time, and they brush rapidly past other crew members in their haste. The situation was ideal for them---- If the mission even went off with fewer difficulties than Ossanlin was having, he'd loosen his tight grip on their movements and they'd have a greater number of options.
<I can' figure this one out. Last I checked, wasn' this a routine job?>
<Clearly it is not. Be ready to take command from me at a moment's notice, as per our tactics. Note that we have no idea how many Imperials Ossanlin means, but to bring us he must mean more than expected. I doubt it will be as easy to reduce their casualties as he suggests. Set the Dracon to high stun for now and aim for the chest.>
<Unconscious?>
<That's what our so-called client wants.>
Joanne followed Keshin's instructions. The hangar bay wasn't far now.
-
The Andalite leads Keshin quickly down to the hangars and into the bottom irregular bay. He gestures at the Tail Fighter, its hatch standing open. <The Prince assures me that you have enough knowledge to operate the craft and the equipment inside adequately. How this could even be possible is beyond me, but it is not my place to question Prince Ossanlin. The Prince also instructed me to inform you that the vehicle's weapons have been rendered inert for this operation.>
-
"That figures," Keshin says with a shrug. "I mean, he already has the fighter tethered to the Tyrennian...."
Keshin then hops into the Tail fighter's ****pit, marveling at the amount of space but slightly frustrated by the lack of a chair. He wonders, as he begins the fighter's pre-flight check and startup, if War-Prince Ossanlin assumed that bounty hunters could do anything. It was by sheer luck that they did know how to use a Tail fighter's thought-based controls, from a previous job. <Here goes nothing,> states Keshin, tentatively putting his hands over the devices and setting the fighter's shield. The ****pit closes.
Keshin fires the Tail fighter up and blasts his craft out of the open hangar and into the freedom of space. Keshin found, to his surprise, that it was almost euphoric. It was as if Joanne's powerful desire to leave the Tyrennian emanated through the Tail fighter's energy supply and engines. Perhaps this was why Andalite fighter pilots always seemed so desperate to see action. The ship wasn't an extension of his body, but it was so close. For one long moment, they flew joyfully in the emptiness of space.
<...damn. Well, we better get goin'. Y'know...If we end up stuck here, I'd listen to the blue idiot if I got to drive just one more time.>
Keshin then notes the hangar bay of the cargo ship, quickly piloting the Tail fighter downwards with obviously no intention of warning the ship that they were landing. He was lucky the ship was defenseless, distracted by the other boarding party, and wide open. Still, it was not the most comfortable landing ever. Keshin edges the Tail fighter in quickly, hoping to high heaven he doesn't dent the machine. <Not the most graceful thing we've ever done.>
<When were we graceful?>
-
Serid watches as the Tail Fighter lands in the hangar bay, a combination of unease and excitement flashing through his brain. <<Keshin, this is Command-Warrior Serid, the hangar bay is clear now...a child was hiding behind some shielded crates and appears to have ambushed Keslin. Your ARC should be synchronized with the rest of the boarding team now. I have been instructed to place you at the tip of our assault.>>
-
"Yeah yeah, we're coming," states Keshin, flipping the top of the ****pit open and hopping out of the Tail fighter. Keshin glanced it over again, as if surprised that he would ever again end up in such a ship. The attempted raid on the Rebellion had certainly changed his life. Keshin then began to cross the hangar bay, Joanne's eyes darting about and scanning for any problems.
"Looks clear," said Keshin to Serid as he crossed the hangar bay. "Where's the boarding party?"
-
<Warrior Ferxal and Firin are holding the door there. They should be indicated by green fields. Keslin and Nefitt are over here at my location.> He watches as Nefitt rushes back to Keslin's side and kneels down by him.
*Yeerked Nefitt*
"Damn it Kes...leave it to you to get yourself shot by an Imperial." He immediately begins tending Keslin's nasty wound, sorting through the ad-hoc Andalite med-kit. He frowns up at Serid. "We have to get him to a med-bay. Now."
Serid nods at the surly rebel. <If you can immobilize him, I will help you load him into the Tail Fighter. Prince Ossanlin says that he will remote it back and get him to med-bay as soon as he arr...>
"I'm going with him."
<I ah...I see. Very well.> Serid doesn't argue further as Nefitt does his best to stabilize the wound somewhat.
-
Keshin determines that the best thing to do would be to check on Keslin first. As the most problematic part of the job, he must see what condition the stupid pirate is in. Along with speaking to this Serid fellow. The thought didn't exactly thrill him, but he was going to have to get used to the idea of Andalites and more Andalites everywhere he went.
<Hehehe, really gets your panties in a knot don' it? Chill out, we're on a job. And they're probably all just' like th' prince.>
<That's what I'm afraid of. And what I've heard.>
Keshin follows the display down the hall and glances down at Keslin and his ugly wound upon running into the boarding party. "Ghastly, isn't it?" he states to Serid, shifting his posture. "Do we have some way of getting our friend here out of our hair? We can't exactly bring him along for the ride. Oh...."
Keshin then states, getting the whole group in his view, "....and for those who don't know us, we're Keshin and Joanne. War-Prince Ossanlin sent us as backup."
-
<We appreciate your aid, Keshin and Joanne.> Ferxal said flatly. He wondered why that was all the backup they were given. He wasn't quite sure how unconscious the controllers in the other room were, that the Hork-Bajir he had rescued had attacked. Also he didn't know how many extra controllers there were on the ship, if the child had hidden himself so well. The thought accured to him to question the former imperial host, but he wasn't sure if he could give accurate, detailed information. Right now he was just in the corner, nursing the minor wounds Ferxal had given him.
-
Ossanlin's voice echoes through the ARC links to the entire boarding party. <Serid, Keshin, Nefitt...get Keslin onto the tail-fighter. Claxter will remote the fighter back. If Nefitt wishes to accompany Keslin, let him.> Ossanlin continues to watch the guarded doorway through Ferxal's ARC unit.
Serid nods. <We must load him onto the Tail Fighter. Prince Claxter will fly the fighter back using a remote interface.> He notes that Keshin is wearing his ARC unit...he would've heard Ossanlin's "voice." But Nefitt has apparently disdained the tactical computer, so his speech is mainly for the Yeerk's benefit.
"You already said that. I'm not deaf...or whatever you people call it when you can't hear telepathy." Nefitt feverishly works to stabilize Keslin as best he can in preparation for movement. "Alright...this is as good as he's gonna get without a medbay." He scowls at Serid. "Be careful when you move him...you people kill Keslin and things are gonna get real nasty in that little glass boat of yours."
Serid bristles a bit but manages to keep a straight face. <I do know how to move injured soldiers. It's mandatory training at the Academy.> He doesn't mention that transporting an injured human would be much easier than transporting an unconscious Andalite. He removes his utility belt, ARC, and ASAR, setting them up against one of the crates, and then begins to change form. His back end scoots in, his tail becoming thicker. His fur melts into his flesh, leaving his skin a sort of rubbery, hairless substance. His upper body bulks up, his hands and arms becoming similar to those found upon an earth gorilla. His stalk eyes pull into his head and the top pushes upward in a backswept arc. His primary eyes grow two more sets of eyelids underneath the outer ones, and his breathing slits turn into a small, horizontal mouth. Mottled splotches of blue and light green start to pepper his purple skin, and his four legs all join his upper body at one radial point that could bend sixty degrees in any direction. His hooves widen out into wide, foldable feet. Finally the morph is done and Serid already itches to have his own body back. It isn't that the nerken is an unpleasant creature...on the contrary it's actually a highly adaptable and useful morph. But ever since recovering from his nothlitized state, he's not been able to stand being in morph for more than a few minutes at a time...and it had taken him months to get this far.
<Keshin, Nefitt...let's get this done.> He moves to the head of Keslin's body, bending his four legs at their double joints and scooping his strong-armed hands under Chris's limps shoulders, waiting for the others to get into position before he lifts.
-
Keshin squirms uncomfortably as he watches Serid morph, trying to resist the urge to throw up or look disgusted. Even though he'd simulations and even a real example plenty of times, the Andalite morphing technology never ceased to disturb him. He was not sure what Serid was, but it was obviously going to help them carry Keslin back. Keshin moves into position towards the side of Keslin's body, helping to support the man as carefully as he could. It was fairly obvious, from how awkward he looked, that he was in no way used to this role.
<No worries, man. If somebody's down you get 'em back.>
<I know, I know. I understand.>
"So what happened?" states Keshin, looking at Serid. "All I heard is that he was surprised by a child Imperial. He has to know better than that by now."
-
Serid lifts in tandem with the Yeerks, doing his best to keep the unconscious controller steady and in the same position. <It is difficult to say. We performed a room clear, but the child controller was apparently hiding behind magnetically sealed crates that blocked his lifesigns from our sensors. Obviously the Dracon was not on its stun setting.>
He carries the unconscious controller into the Tail Fighter and lowers him softly to the floor along with the two controllers. <Prince Ossanlin, Keslin is aboard the fighter.> He moves out of the fighter and immediately begins to demorph, not bothering to watch if Keshin is clear yet or not.
-
"Weird," states Keshin, lowering Keslin along with Serid and then hurriedly ducking out of the Tail fighter. Considering they were the backup for Serid's group., the Andalite didn't seem to be paying them much attention.
<Dude's righ' in a hurry, though. We'll give 'em a reason later.>
<Maybe. If we too don't get easily dispatched. The circumstances of this boarding are very strange.>
"Yeah the guy's safe Oss. "No sweat, man," mutters Joanne awkwardly into the ARC, Keshin allowing her to switch in to better facilitate the job. She rubs the top of her mop of hair, awkwardly getting used to control even though they've done this dozens of times. "We're goin' to go help them take care o' bizness."
<Don't let your street gibberish get too thick or Ossanlin won't understand you.>
<I'm tryin' to keep it down.>
-
Nefitt ducks in alongside Keslin, monitoring his lifesigns, dispatching the group from his attention.
Ossanlin nods at no one in particular. <Very good, Keshin...Joanne. I have been regaled with stories of your prowess...I hope they were not inflated.> He uses the Tyrennian's computer to analyze what little data on the personal shielding that Firin's ARC had gathered. <Some of these controllers...perha ps many, have personal shielding tech. You're the tip of the blade now. Do what you must to subdue...and Keshin...try not to kill the hosts.>
He turns his attention to Claxter. <Prince-Lieutenant, bring that fighter back. Esarvit, have a security team ready in the hangar bay to transport Keslin to the medbay. And make sure to inform the controller-medics.>
Serid finishes his demorph and glances at Keshin. <We need to subdue threats and gain control of the ship. Prince Ossanlin has faith in your abilities...> He doesn't say anything further, glancing at the door held by Firin and Ferxal with his main eyes briefly before bending to retrieve his utility belt and weapons.
"The room is still empty...if there's more, they're waiting for us to come to them." Firin continues to watch the empty room with suspicion.
-
Joanne nods cautiously, muttering "I don' like this," as she looks down the empty hallway. She unholsters her weapon and carefully checks it again. They need to be ready for any possible outcome at a moment's notice. "Okay, I'm goin' ta go on, a'right? You guys follow on behin' me. We'll take care of this thing quick."
Joanne, Dracon in position to be fired, wanders down the empty corridor. She's confident enough, although the whole situation is really weird. Kess seems even more nervous about it than she is. Unknown Controllers, hiding behind shields, merely waiting for the very boarding party that's breaking onto their ship. She smells a rat--- something about what happened here is a setup.
"This link on the ARC works for the whole gang, right?" states Joanne, stopping momentarily.
-
Firin furrows his brow as the human controller strolls past him. The drastic change in disposition suggested that the human might be in control now. So few controllers operated in such a way...with one being better able to handle certain situations than the other.
<<They're like us...>>
<<In a way.>>
He nods to Ferxal and the newly-liberated Hork-Bajir before following the human-controller into the small room. He dodges off to the side where the human he'd noticed the shielding on had fallen to the flat of the Andalite's tail-blade. The human appears to be in his mid thirties, Dracon laying a few feet away from his hand and a nasty lump on his head. Firin changes his weapon to stun setting and fires it from a few feet away from the unconscious controller. There's a bright flash of light as the personal shield absorbs the energy from the blast. His ARC immediately records and analyzes the data, a bright blue, blinking dot overlaid on the unconscious controller's waist. Firin pulls the controller's up gently. The blue dot is centered upon a small palm-sized, circular metallic object with purple-glowing radial lines. The ARC continues its analysis of the device, displaying statistics and graphics on Firin's holo-overlay. His eyes widen at the elegant solutions that someone had apparently come up with to solve the biggest issues surrounding personal shielding technology.
He reaches down and grabs the device, pulling it free of the controller's belt. He runs a scaly thumb over it a couple of times before clipping it to his own belt. He discharges a stun shot into the controller. The bolt splashes into the man's body unimpeded. "Interesting..."
Serid brings up the rear behind the rest of the team. <<Yes, the ARC provides constant communication between all operation associates unless specifically repressed.>>
-
Joanne follows Firin over toward the unconscious human-Controller and watches as he experiments with the personal shielding technology on the man, eventually pocketing the tiny shield generator for himself. Joanne puts her free hand on her hips and whistles. "****," she states. "That's better than we've seen even on some of the Vissers, right? These guys are either rich as kings or spies. No doubt about it."
She glances to Firin with a worried look on her face, still on edge. "....this might be sticky. Where do we go from here to get off to the ship's bridge?"
Eventually Serid pipes in with the statement regarding the shields and Joanne groans. "I think that's a yes. ....Don't talk in big words, Andalite. Kess might get you, but I haven' got the time."
-
Nefitt remains beside Keslin as he is moved, monitoring his injuries as best he can. He has managed to stymie the flow of blood from his head, but the gash there is deep and will require stitches. Using the hodge podge of supplies within the Andalite med kit, he bandages Chris' head in such a way that pressure is being continuously applied to the wound while he moves his attention elsewhere.
It is the Dracon shot that is going to cause the real problem. Chris appears to have taken it full in the chest, and Nefitt realizes with a start that they are lucky it did not stop his heart. The fabric of his shirt is blackened and burnt, melted to his skin in some places, which is red and angry, weeping with thin rivulets of blood. His chest rises and falls in short fits and starts, and his pale skin is taking on a slightly blue pallor.
"His lungs may be damaged," he realizes, speaking to himself. "He is not breathing correctly."
He looks up at the viewscreen of the transport ship, his eyebrows furrowing. With a slight scowl he reaches over and takes Chris' ARC -- one of many pieces of Andalite technology he has been vehemently trying to avoid. Slipping it on, he clears his throat.
"If anyone can hear me, I need access to a fully stocked medical bay immediately. We need to intubate him." He pauses, then realize that perhaps that word is meaningless for a species with no mouth. "I need a tracheal tube that I can use to force artificial breathing, and I need it as soon as we land."
-
Ossanlin nods as he hears Neffitt's voice. Esarvit has sent notification to Varekil and the human medical staff. <You need a tracheal splint-field. I will have Varekil pack one in his trauma kit.> He suits actions to words and sends a quick message to Varekil to adjust one of the splint-field generators to human standards.
Firin glances at Keshin somewhat warily, but responds. "This doorway should lead through the primary crew quarters which connects to the bridge via another hallway. And yes, this technology is much more than we should expect to find..." He fumbles around in the unconscious human-controller's pockets and belt pouches until his fingers run across a small piece of living metal. He pulls out the small identification badge and growls in Rythil's fearsome voice before speaking again. "The Hand..."
-
Ferxal followed behind the controller, trying to notice even the smallest suspicious thing. He felt badly about Keslin and Chris, even if the enemy had been using unknown technology. It had been his duty to search the room, and no technology was able to allow someone to phase through solid objects, so he could only conclude that he should have done better.
Unfortunately he couldn't see any sign telling him that there was some invisible enemy nearby. Hopefully this controller could, or the mission could end badly. It seemed that even something that's expected to be quick and simple can turn ugly if you are caught off guard.
-
Joanne turns around to look at Firin as soon as she hears that frightening growl. It occurred to her that she'd seen literally thousands of Hork-Bajir by now, and yet she was never going to get used to how outright strange most aliens were. As a kid, she'd been one of those people who assumed they'd all look rather like humans. "The Hand?" she states with a confused look on her face. "The **** is that, man? We heard about those Sector Seven guys, but are you sayin' we got like...three other secret societies to worry about?"
Joanne edges toward the doorway he was talking about, but did not intend to enter without determining what was happening first. She doesn't see any sign of an opponent yet, but with the way this was going her senses were likely going to lie to her.
-
Ossanlin narrows his eyes as he hears Firin mention the Hand...apparently one of the Temsers had had the need of a transport vessel...perhaps there would be a bigger prize than basic supplies onboard.
<Your mission has not changed, Serid. Take control of that vessel, but stay on your guard...those are more than average troops.>
Firin hisses. "More than average? If that isn't an understatement..." Firin glances up at Keshin. "You've heard of the Hand I'm sure...not that I know that much about them. I suppose they're similar to that group the head blue-fur was talking about. Armed to the teeth with little gems like this." He taps his newly-acquired personal shield generator. They must be guarding something."
Serid steps into the small room behind the rest of the team. <Right...lets keep moving.> He continues to scan the hallway beyond the door. He glances a stalk-eye at the newly-freed Hork-Bajir. <You do not need to accompany us if you do not wish. We will be able to provide you with a new home on our ship, free of Imperial infestation.>
<Keshin?> He uses his ARC to show a top-down configuration of the ship's schematic on the turulek's projection unit. <Here's the bridge, and this is our current location. How would you defend it with minimal soldiers?> The projection in front of Keshin's eye highlights the bridge and the team's current location. There is a wide hallway connecting the current room to a small, round engineering room, which in turn connects with the small bridge at the front. Various doorways lead off of the sides of the hallway into rooms of different varieties including a very small med-bay and various bunk-like quarters. The small pool room and cargo bay sit one deck down, with stairwells leading down on either side of the engineering room.
-
<I'm afraid I've never heard of The Hand.> Ferxal said. <Honestly I thought you were saying something about the host's hand, and didn't think it was important to me.>
The Hork-Bajir looked at the Andalite talking to him. "Hruthin not kill me and others? I help rescue. We sit in cages together. We friends."
-
Keshin wracked his own brain and Joanne's for any mention of this "Hand" Firin was talking about. They had been on a great number of jobs for a great number of people, and he was certain the information existed somewhere. It was better to know who they were up against before they made any kind of assessment of the ship. They had made that mistake with Sector Seven and the Andalites, and they were not going to make it again.
<Hey wait a min', I think I got it. The Temsers. Like a few years back when we were startin' out. Yeerk secret agents. G-Men.>
<How on Earth did you pull that out of your empty fishbowl of a brain?>
<Hey, I got stuff in here! The guy who said I'd "go far" an' said he wouldn' mention our freakshow problems.>
Keshin examined the memory more closely and frowned. That was right. They had run into high agents of the Empire some time ago. Strong, cold folk whose speech was all business and whose job seemed to have no purpose the turelek understood. What was more peculiar was that they had guessed that Joanne was abnormal, and yet had chosen to say nothing about it. Keshin suspected that more than a few people must benefit from the status quo in the Empire.
Keshin then momentarily takes control and takes the schematic. He looks over the hallways and corridors and then states while shaking his head, "....the usual rules aren't going to apply. If these guys are really agents each one of them might be as proficient as me, and they have tech to boot. If I were them, I'd have two guys in the engineering hallway standing at the edges of the doorway...invisible, and ready to merely aim and shoot at anyone coming down that way. As for the bridge defense..."
Keshin points to the bridge room. "...our soldiers are going to be inside the open bridge room. They have the jump on us at every point in this ship because they're expecting us to come to them. They're counting on us taking the straight route, so...is there another way into that room?"
-
Serid goes over the schematics data in his ARC, looking furiously. <I...there should be...I mean, it would be silly if there weren't...>
He glances over at the freed Hork-Bajir who seems to be nodding and pointing to one of the side rooms. Serid goes into further detail with the schematics and sees something in the room that the Hork-Bajir was pointing to on his schematic. <Ah...auxiliary hatches. Climbing room only. Andalites would not be able to use them without morphing. The hatches look to drop onto the upper scaffolding of the cargo bay. One could use them to access the lower level of the ship...perhaps they wouldn't expect that...they're expecting Andalites, and probably ones who wouldn't want to morph...what do you think of it then, Keshin?>
Firin grimaces and shakes his head...was the blue-fur actually suggesting they split up? Seriously?
-
<Splitting up could go bad, but trying to blast through a heavily guarded choke point could be bad too. Despite our success at getting through the last one, there's no guarantee this will be any easier. I'm afraid I have no useful morphs.> It was obvious from the various scars on his body that Ferxal had little to no real experience with morphing, aside from the one test morph the military mandates to make sure an Andalite can do it.
-
"Yeah, but trying to bust our way through a place they know we're going into seems just as insane," Keshin states, muttering and running Joanne's hands through her hair in frustration. Keshin paces irritably, trying to think about the situation.
"Okay, okay," Keshin says, breathing and taking more stock of it. "....it's theoretically possible for a morph-capable member of the team to go through the rafters while I try and take on the front entrance with the other team members. It should probably be whoever has the least chance of surviving a straight confrontation, if possible. That would allow us to maintain an element of surprise. On the other hand, it would drop our odds from the front a tad."
He wasn't positive on this front even remotely, but it seemed like if there were going to be two teams he should be in the one attacking head-on. That was why he was sent onto this mission.
-
Serid nods, tapping his chin with a finger. <Yes, I see where you're going with that, though we have no idea what might be waiting down belowdecks.> He ****s his head to the side for a bit, thinking. <I don't suppose it would be possible for you to blend in...if these are soldiers of this "Hand" or whatnot, then they're sure to know everyone on the ship.>
<We could go the other way as well...Ferxal and I could create a diversion up here as if we're trying to break through the hallway while you and Firin and perhaps our new friend here sneaked through below to come at them from behind. Either way is risky.> He glances again at the newly-freed Hork-Bajir. <Again, you are not required to come along...if you wish to wait in the hangar, that is acceptable. However, if you do wish to accompany us, would you be able to show us where to sneak through?>
-
"I don't think we can blend in, but we might be able to take the belowground route without being too troubled by any surprises," states Keshin with a pause. "....that makes sense. We'll do it in reverse."
Keshin glances at Serid and nods to the free Hork-Bajir. "It would help if you could show us where to go."
-
"Master use me to walk lots. I know ship good." The Hork-Bajir said. "If you not win, would be bad for me? So I help." He examined the crawl space, working out how he'd crawl through. His minor wounds bothered him a little, but Hork-Bajir could tolerate a lot if need be.
<I will assist you, Command Warrior Serid.> Ferxal said. <We will keep their attention on us as long as we can.>
-
Serid nods. <I would think the cargo bay is devoid of defenders, though it's difficult to say. Take one of the access hatches, Keshin. Ferxal and I will try to draw their attention once you give the signal that you're in position to hit the engineering deck from the flank.> He glances at the un-named Hork-Bajir. <Thank you for your assistance, my friend.>
He moves forward toward the hallway and scans it with his ARC. <Your assessment, Ferxal?>
-
Ferxal looks at the hallway. <Even if we can't see the enemy, they will require cover. Any indention in the hallway they may be around, or any object in the way that may offer any protection, must be considered suspicious, even if our eyes or scanners see nothing.> He said. <I might suggest that as long as our energy cells hold out, we may flood the hallway with shredder fire. That would prove as distracting as anything, and constant sound should mask any footsteps that B team makes. I did remember to bring extra cells with me.>
-
"Got it--- wait for me to contact you over the comm," states Keshin. He then darts down the hall to the room where the map seemed to suggest the hatches would be. He glances around warily for any signs of an attacker, but there didn't seem to be anyone in range. <Joanne, once we're through I need you ready to switch as soon as it's time for us to get the drop on them from behind.>
<You know I'm clear, Kess. I got the whole plan in my head.>
<....you could have fooled me....>
The auxiliary hatches weren't exactly exactly right in front of them when they got to the room that Serid had shown them, despite what a two-dimensional map might suggest. It took them a few minutes just to find it--- A minutely labeled, square metallic door sitting slightly above ground level. Keshin, scratching an itchy spot in Joanne's hair, lifted the little door and stared into the grim, dark-looking crawlspace ahead of them. It wasn't exactly inviting. He whistled.
<Goin' down that's gonna get my fine ass in shape.>
<Don't be lewd. Especially since there's a chance that Hork-Bajir is going to follow us.>
Keshin nonetheless reached a leg over, lifted Joanne's body into the crawlspace, and began crawling.
-
<Very well, Ferxal. When Keshin contacts us, we will...as the humans say..."light them up."> Serid eye-smiles a bit. His time as a human had led him to pick up on some of their creative turns of phrase.
Firin growls a bit, but Rythil's oddly buoyant mood makes it sound a bit hollow.
<<Why in thirteen hells are you so happy?>>
<<Need you ask? I have a new friend.>>
<<That makes no sense...we need to focus here.>>
<<Cold.>>
<<You're 'warm' enough for the both of us.>>
Firin slings the ASAR over his shoulder and crawls down the ladder into the crawl-space behind Keshin. His ARC shows the outline of a hatch and ladder twenty feet forward leading down into the tail end of the cargo hold. "I don't like enclosed spaces..."
-
<This will be just what I need to let off steam after my time spent in the tail fighter. I never liked being in those.> Ferxal said. <As much as I try to maintain emotional control, there are instances that cause me to need to recenter myself.>
The Hork-Bajir followed the others through the crawlspace, hoping that maybe his help would tip the scales in their favor. The imperials had a lot of stuff that was beyond his comprehension, but nothing was without weaknesses. "I not like tight spaces either. Might cut myself."
-
The crawlspace was thankfully short, considering the two Hork-Bajir following close behind her. The room eventually opens up to accommodate a ladder which they assume go down onto the catwalk above the cargo bay. "I'll go first," Joanne states, looking back at her two associates. "Follow me one by one- There's not a lotta space in here."
Joanne then heads down the ladder quickly, stepping very lightly onto their exit. She could see the floor below them, but it was farther down and more precarious than she had expected. She did spot another ladder ahead, though--- So maybe at least this wouldn't take much time. Joanne crosses half of the space towards the next ladder, tapping her foot on the rafters in the middle, and then waits for the other two.
-
The Hork-Bajir follows Joanne on the ladder, coming to stand behind her. He didn't hear anything near them. "Too quiet. Not like this." Now that he was closer to where the fighting would happen, he was feeling more tense. Maybe the other controllers were just as tense, just waiting for it to start so they could get to fighting instead of this anxious waiting. He wondered if they felt angry that the Bladeship crew abandoned them. These questions probably didn't matter. He should probably just focus. Except now that he was free to do what he wanted, he didn't really know what to do besides try to free his friends.
-
Varit had watched, a few minutes ago, as the turelek ran off to attend to the ongoing battle, leaving him essentially-alone, aside from his ever-present Andalite detail. He'd spent the next few minutes pacing, wandering out into the middle of the dome and back, hoping to find a rebel-- any rebel, really-- before deciding that they all must be off somewhere else. Shame, since he needs somebody to help him feed, and he's loathe to ask one of the Andalites.
Battle... he's been brought aboard a dome ship in the midst of a battle. For all they knew, this ship was constantly at the front line of the war, and it would only be a matter of time before it was torn to shreds.
<<We will survive,>> says Resseliss reassuringly. <<We have always survived.>>
<<We only have to mess that one up once,>> Varit responds dryly.
Varit feels his consciousness fade for a moment, a small spasm running through his actual, physical Yeerk body. He needs to feed, and now.
With a resolute sigh, Varit turns to the nearest Andalite; a young warrior with only a single stalk-eye trained on Varit, and the rest pointed directly at the transport aboard which the supposed-battle is taking place. Varit calls out, "I need to feed. Would you care to assist me?"
The Andalite looks surprised at being addressed, but seems almost relieved to have the distraction as he turns towards the Yeerk. <I...> he begins, finally tearing his last stalk eye away from the transport and scanning the dome for a higher authority. <I believe I can assist you,> he says uncertainly. <What do you require?> If this young warrior is put-off at all by the Taxxon before him, it doesn't show in his demeanor. In fact, not much shows in his demeanor except for tension in his shoulders and flanks.
"A safe place to keep my host, and transportation from there to the pool," responds Varit, sounding more confident than he feels. Even a young warrior could turn his Taxxon host inside out, or simply refuse to help him feed.
The warrior hesitates, then nods. <This way.> He leads the way a short distance out of the dome, avoiding conversation and staring at the transport. Soon he opens the door to an empty, tiny room. <This was my room as an aristh,> he says.
"This is fine," states Varit. "Now..." he hesitates, and shudders in disgust, "do you have a container? Or were you planning on carrying me to the pool?"
In an instant, all of the Andalite's attention is on Varit again. At the look of sheer horror on the Andalite's face, Varit begins to laugh, but a shudder wracks him, running from his Yeerk body and through his entire host, his vision swimming. By the time he can see again, he finds himself lying on the deck with a confused, concerned-looking Andalite at his side.
"I need to go now..." he mumbles, and without waiting for a response, begins the process of disconnecting his neural pathways from Resseliss's. Within moments, he's slithered out of Resseliss's ear canal and lies, helpless, on the deck, spasms continuing to contort his tiny body.
He waits. And waits. And as he waits, he begins to realize; he's going to die here. He can't trust this Andalite, and now he and his host are going to die right here, in this room. He's not thinking clearly... he's not planning clearly...
Soon, however, he feels a familiar Taxxon claw gently scoop his body from the ground. There's airflow over his body... and vibrations that might be sound... and after a few moments, as clear as a bell, the young warrior's voice saying, angrily, <Okay, I'll take it to the pool. Just get out of my face, Taxxon.>
The next sensation is the claw dumping him into a less-familiar hand, a soft-skinned, many-fingered hand. It closes menacingly around him, squeezing him just enough that it doesn't actually hurt... and Varit feels himself drifting... his concentration slipping... as though he's entering a sort of trance...
The next thing he knows, he finds himself in the familiar, warm, wet surroundings of a Yeerk pool, bathed in the light of the Kandrona. He allows himself to float to the surface, gratefully drinking it all in. He'll need to find a way to thank Resseliss for saving his life yet again, but that's for another day. For here... for now... this will have to be enough...
Aetheas watches, rapt, as the data streams in regarding Keshin's injury... the boarding party's difficulties... the bounty hunter's involvement... the speculation that this may be The Hand... He's not sure trusting that one would be his first choice, but he trusts Ossanlin... if the Captain thinks using her to be a worthwhile risk, Aetheas will hope for the best.
It's as the party splits to attempt a flanking maneuver on the bridge that something catches his eye. Nothing more than a brief flash of movement, picked up by the Tyrennian's sensors, located on the deck below the boarding party. Unsure, he rewinds the display and plays it back again.
There. Again. A brief flicker, and then it's gone.
<Captain,> he says uncertainly, sending the brief recording to the Captain's station, <I am not certain, but the enemy may be attempting to flank our boarding party now.>
-
Efaen has been spending her time in her quarters, alternating between pacing and sleeping, leaving only to snag herself some of the slim human rations. She has kept up with what is happening on the Dome Ship as much as possible, but news spreads slow when you are mistrusted by almost everyone on board.
Two thoughts, products of the tracking chip embedded deep within her body, circling her blood stream, continue to resurface. I need to leave. Or I need to die. She can't help but wonder if the various complications that have been placed before them are, in part, her fault. The fault of her very existence here.
She still isn't anywhere close to confident with a fighter. Her lesson with Eleric was brief, and she is fairly certain that his mind was on something beyond mere tutelage. Their one short lesson is not enough for her to plan an effective escape, and she has no idea where he is to seek out a second lesson. Or if she wants to.
Sighing, eager for something -- anything -- to happen, she finally relents and steps out of her quarters. Perhaps she will find some other means to escape. Perhaps one of the other rebels is just as eager to be free of the place.
She has no particular destination in mind as she wanders through the halls. By default, her general direction is towards the Dome, but it is a meandering path, and she keeps her eyes open for other rebels.
-
Xevec and Derrel hadn't had much to do on the ship. It would have been nice for him to plan something to use as leverage when things started going sour for the rebels, but he had been watched clesely. Or at least Xevec felt like he was being constantly watched. If only he could plant a few explosives in key positions around the ship, he'd feel like he had something to hold over the grass eaters, but he couldn't figure out how.
As he thought about things, Derrel was cleaning the hallway floor. He was an uneducated homeless person without any expertise, but he always liked keeping busy. Always trying to help in what way he could, because people valued those who were useful to them. It was all part of surviving. Cleaning floors and walls was about the only thing the Andalites trusted him to do. Not that the place was very dirty. They ran a clean ship.
He noticed Efaen coming. "Hi Efaen. You doing okay? At least, as okay as it's possible to be in our situation?" Derrel said, still working what amounted to a high tech vacuum cleaner.
Derrel mentioning Efaen got Xevec thinking about her. The girl was apparently still loyal to the rebels, and some Andalites tried to be nice to her. In fact the new pilot had been attempting to be extra nice. Suddenly something clicked in Xevec's head. A grass eater that was loyal to the rebels, that the ship's pilot was trying to be friends with. There had to be some way to use that.
"Efaen." Xevec said. "You, uh...you're on our side, right? I know you keep to yourself a lot, and some of the other rebels aren't buddy buddy with you, but you lean on our side of the fence, right?"
-
Efaen stops her wanderings at being addressed, giving Derrel and Xevec small, cautious smile. "Your side of the fence?" she asks, blinking a little, many human idioms still lost on her. "Ah...yes, I'm 'on your side', as you say. Despite what the other rebels seem to think." She shrugs, looking a little abashed. "I certainly do not mean you any harm, if that is what you're worried about."
-
"Great! Excellent." Xevec said with a genuine smile, and patted her on the shoulder. It was a habit he picked up long ago from Humans that physical contact help them connect. Although he wasn't sure that would really work for Efaen. "We all need to stick together, even though some of us may not feel exactly the same way. I know that there was this big event that soured people's opinion of you, but personally I try not to judge irrational people too hard when they do irrational things. And you were far from the most rational person after several years under Visser Three."
"Anyway. water under the bridge. That is, we'll move past that to seek new opportunities together." He started talking lower, in a conspiratorial voice. "I know this Ossanlin guy is supposed to be friends with Myitt, but I seriously don't trust these people. It would be nice if we could find as much information as we can, and do whatever we must to keep from being at their fickle mercy. Now I know you're more like us than them, but they seem to want to open up to you. I figure if they're going to open up, you may as well take advantage of that."
"To get straight to the point, the Andalites would probably be more comfortable around you than anyone else, and would talk more freely with you nearby, and it would be awesome if we had eyes and ears in the bridge of this ship. Planting a device in there isn't practical, but if there was someone loyal to us in there then that would be the best thing possible. The guy at the helm, Clester or something, is interested in you. You pretend to be interested in him, find a way to spend time with him on the bridge, and we are one step closer to having more control over the situation we're in."
"Do you think you could fake interest enough, and do a little spying for us? You're in a unique position to do something none of the other rebels can, and if you want to help us then you need to use that to your advantage."
<<This isn't going to work.>> Derrel said.
<<It's worth a shot.>>
<<What if we get busted?>>
<<As long as she doesn't blurt out why she's really there, we have an alibi.>>
-
Keshin and Joanne descend through the catwalk system, checking every so often to see that the two Hork-Bajir are more or less following their lead. Having a group is somewhat new to them, given their antisocial tendencies, but Joanne seems reasonably certain these two are dangerous enough. Joanne drops off the final ladder and gets a look around the cargo hold. The place is less than inviting, but few rooms filled with ugly Imperial steel boxes really are. She doesn't see any attackers yet, but then again she really has no way to see them given the circumstances. <These Light guys are tricky.>
<No kidding. There's virtually no way to spot the---wait a minute.>
Keshin turns toward her two team-mates and states, a bit quietly from a human perspective, "....Hork-Bajir have excellent hearing, don't they? We might not be able to see some of the enemies ahead of us, but is it possible that you can hear them? Check the hallway for anything weird before we get ourselves shot."
-
Efaen stays perfectly still, watching him as he speaks. She flinches only when he touches her, taking a half step back, her muscles stiffening at the physical contact.
"You...want me to spy on the Andalites for you, so that you can determine whether planting explosives throughout the ship would be worth your time and energy?" she asks. "You understand that they trust me about as little as the rebels here, right? Claxter may be the only Andalite who is willing to give me the time of day." That's not true, she realizes immediately. Eleric had been more than willing to show her how to pilot. In all, the Andalites had not been nearly as hostile as she had expected. They certainly had not treated her as a vecol in the way those on Corvus had. The fact was that they made her uncomfortable. They were a reminder of a past she did not remember.
"Besides, I--I'm a liability," she finishes lamely. "I shouldn't be here at all."
-
Xevec was a little surprised his brief touch had the opposite effect he was hoping for. Maybe this girl was more Andalite than he thought. He put his hands behind his back to try to show he didn't mean anything negative about that.
"No, the explosives thing was a different idea. Getting on the bridge is strictly abut intelligence. Information that may give us a clearer idea of what is going on, so we can plan accordingly. I'm sorry if the crew has been treating you poorly. I haven't noticed." He wondered if the poor treatment had been out of sight of the rebels, for some reason, or some rude private thought speech. I was just hoping, you know, that seeing an Andalite may give them the impression that you're like them, even if on the inside you're not like them."
"Honestly none of us should be here. I don't know why the grass eaters attacked us on the base. As for you, I'd say you're less of a liability since your mind was wiped and the other rebels decided to keep you around instead of...not." He didn't want to say they were going to, and should, permanently dispose of her. That they shouldn't have brought her to the base in the first place. Still, he wasn't around a year ago and had no say in that.
"I just like to try to take what opportunities I can, and I saw an opportunity for you to help if you thought the idea had merit. I wouldn't try to force you into a wasted effort. Now Claxter, as you said his name was, is a fairly high ranking member of this ship. A Prince who has maybe the most important role on the bridge. If he is nice to you, then getting close to him would be a good start. If you really think that isn't enough, then we'll just have to forget it. If you think it's possible to convince him to make the others be more cordial with you, then you can go from there to having more pull around the ship. Start small, and work your way up, as it were. Of course I'd be happy to help with that however I can. Yeerks are pretty good at making people believe they're friends when they actually aren't."
-
Efaen blinks. "You may not want to advertise that last bit," she says dryly. "Whether it's true or not."
Sighing, she nods. "I can't promise anything, Xevec, but you're right. The rebels deserve at least an equal say here, and as much knowledge as the Andalites. I...I can try to speak to Claxter." She hesitates. "You should know, though, that I do not anticipate my presence here being...particularl y lengthy."
-
Efaen's words made Derrel chuckle inside. <<So very, very true.>>
"Yes, well, the topic of trust is a long and troubled one in my experience. Hopefully none of use will be staying long. I'm just worried what will happen now that just about all the surviving rebels are gathered, and our leaders will start talking about going separate ways from Ossanlin and his crew."
"I thank you for anything you're able to accomplish, Efaen."
-
Efaen nods, then frowns. "What, exactly, do you want me to find out?" she asks. "If you anticipate the rebels leaving soon, does it matter whether you are kept abreast of the Andalites' plans or not?" The idea of the other rebels leaving the Dome Ship gives Efaen mixed feelings. On the one hand, it would make her separation from them -- from everyone -- far easier. On the other, she fears for their safety. There is no denying the peace of mind provided by an Andalite Dome Ship.
-
"Find out if they're actually planning to let us leave. I don't trust that Ossanlin went to all this trouble to get us out, just to let us go our separate ways. They're up to something, but I don't know what. This idea that he left the Electorate just to rescue a few rebels is fishy. I mean suspicious. Hell I wouldn't be shocked if we're heading straight back to Corvus, now that the rest of the surviving rebels are rounded up."
-
Efaen's eyebrows raise a little, but she nods. "Very well," she murmurs. "I cannot guarantee that any of the Andalites will be responsive, even Claxter. But...I will try. For the time that I remain here, at least." She glances down the hall. "I do not, however, think I should be barging onto the bridge. I'm not welcome there. Ossanlin would kick me out immediately. I'll have to wait until one of them makes their presence known in the Dome."
-
"Ok. No problem. They probably wouldn't want any unnecessary people in there at this moment anyway, with the cargo raid going on. I've noticed you don't really use your Andalite form much. Looking like an Andalite would help with the objective, obviously, so we may need to work on your comfortability with that form. It might be good to work on that in the dome while we wait for someone to come by. What do you say?"
-
Ossanlin glances at Aetheas with a stalk-eye as he speaks. He looks closer at the data-feed Aetheas had sent to his console. It takes two playbacks, but he does notices some strange distortions like movement on the feed. <<Well-spotted, Aetheas.>> Ossanlin speaks through the team's feed again. <Watch yourselves, we've spotted movement in that cargo-bay, make sure it's clear...>
Firin nods at Keshin. "In general, it is somewhat better than human hearing. I can..." He cuts off as Ossanlin's speech comes through. He hisses to himself and looks past some sort of large metallic machine, trying to listen for any noise. Without warning, a beam of red seems to lance out of nowhere and Firin flinches as it disintegrates inches in front of his forehead, the air around his face splashing translucent blue energy. He's unable to move for a moment, frozen by the surprise and then the realization of what had just happened...if he hadn't picked up that personal shielding device, he'd be dead now, and Rythil along with him. His eyesight picks up ripples in the air...and finally his brain kicks back in. He dives behind some plastiform crates, rolling to a stop behind cover. "Personal camouflage...the Light have really outdone themselves."
Serid glances down the open hallway carefully, not leaving cover and waiting for word from Keshin. Suddenly he hears Ossanlin's announcement followed by a few shots ringing out from below. He glances at Ferxal. <<Change of plans.>> He pulls one of the impact detonators out and arms it, throwing it down the empty hallway. All four of his eyes widen as the entire hallway shimmers with ripples in the air as human controllers seem to manifest from nothing, running back down the hallway and diving away from the detonator. Serid fires a few shots down the hallway after the controllers before ducking back as the detonator explodes, sending powerful shockwaves reverberating down the hallway. <What in Sky was that?!>
-
<I don't believe it.> Ferxal said as he realized how many controllers really were in that hallway, shielded by technology he had never heard of. <Where did those slugs steal that technology from?> Much of the tech Yeerks had were stolen, and it was a commonly held Andalite belief that they never actually invented anything. Ferxal certainly wasn't about to admit the Empire may have created something the Electorate would be jealous of. His stalk eyes scanned the room behind him with suspicion. Who knew if they weren't surrounded already?
<<With the enemy having such camoflauge, we'd have to seal the doors behind us to make sure we weren't atacked from behind, but that would also block our own escape. I'm beginning to think the risk isn't worth the reward here.>> Not that Ferxal would ever withdraw unless ordered.
The Hork-Bajir took cover, wishing he had a dracon. He doubted he would be able to pretend to still be infested, and he had no way to get close to them if they didn't come to him. "What can I do?" He asked Firin.
-
Efaen's shoulders stiffen, and she pulls away slightly at the suggestion. "I prefer this form," she says, a little stiltedly. "Surely I can accomplish such tasks in human guise. Claxter knows what this morph looks like." She frowns a little, choosing not to mention the fact that none of the Andalites seemed particularly fond of her human form -- then again, with the possible exceptions of Claxter and Eleric, none of them were too fond of her.
-
"No no no. If we're going to let some Human looking person do it, I may as well ask Keslin or Myitt. We want the Andalites to think you're one of them, and they're going to be more comfortable and open to someone who looks Andalite. This is cold, hard truth. Even if Claxter has accepted the fact that you prefer your Human form, it doesn't change the fact that you'd blend in much better looking like them. If you'll give this a chance, I'm sure you'll see quicker results."
Honestly Xevec wasn't sure why she didn't stay in her form. He had heard that morphing and remorphing took a fair amount of energy, and her natural form was quicker and more dangerous. He figured she must not like it due to what happened after her memory was wiped.
-
"Dammit!" Joanne swears as the red Dracon nearly hits Firin. She immediately ducks behind a crate herself, getting her Dracon into gear and ready to fire. "Hey Hork-Bajir dude, are you okay?!" He looked lokay, Joanne noted. The Dracon looked like it hit something, and he had ducked behind cover. But she wasn't sure. You could never be perfectly sure of anything in a firefight.
Joanne ducks to the side of the crate and fires in the direction the Dracon came from before quickly ducking back behind cover. The lack of visibility is extremely problematic, and there's no way to see their assailants. Before she can think of what to do, however, she can hear a sound or vibration from farther off. She's not sure what it was, but it's obviously not as important as staying alive.
Before she can think, she hears the rapid pounding of feet of a number of Human-Controllers down the hall from Serid's side. Joanne whips around and fires at the chest of one of the incoming group's members, counting on the other two to follow her lead. She then quickly darts back behind cover and into a slightly different position, anticipating return fire.
-
Efaen's look of displeasure doesn't ease as she switches to private thought-speak, shielding her half of the conversation from any listening ears. <<I never thought I would hear a Yeerk trying to convince me to be more Andalite,>> she says, not without some disgust in her tone. <<You think using my own form will fool them into thinking I am one of them? I don't know how to be an Andalite anymore. I don't want to know. If that's what you want me to pretend to be, find someone else for your foolish mission.>>
She turns, intending to end the conversation there.
-
"You don't have to know how to be an Andalite. It's just that looking like an Andalite would make you stick out less like a sore thumb, and it would be as distracting." Xevec said.
"Apparently you aren't comfortable with that kind of thing. truth be told, I'm not entirely comfortable with cleaning floors. My partner Derrel is an uneducated homeless person. He doesn't do what he does because he enjoys it. He does it because he wants to be useful to people. I thought maybe if you didn't want to be an Andalite anymore, you might be interested in being useful to us, and maybe becoming more valued. Maybe making a friend or two."
"If you don't think you can handle doing something a little out of your comfort zone, I won't try to force you. You can go back to sitting in your room and only coming out for food." He went back to cleaning, thinking this had been a waste of time. Maybe he could find something else to help them survive.
-
Efaen stops in her tracks, her lips pressing together into a small scowl. As much as she hates to admit it, Xevec has touched on a nerve. Closing her eyes briefly, she sighs, then slowly turns back to face him. <<I'll do what I can,>> she says, resigned. <<But I cannot guarantee that any of the Andalites on the bridge will give me the time of day, let alone valuable information.>>
-
"Thanks. That's all I'm asking." He said.
<<I hope this works, and doesn't blow up in our faces.>> Derrel said.
<<That's the way it goes with any plan. Risk versus reward. If we go down, I'd rather go down fighting, and I'd like to know if we need to start blasting.>>
-
Efaen does not respond to his gratitude, continuing down the hall and towards the Dome with an increasing sense of frustration. She should be trying to escape this place, not ingratiate herself with the Andalites here. What good was intelligence if her very presence could bring the Andalite military down on them?
Her feet, bare as a result of continuous morphing, touch the springy grass of the Dome and she sighs a little, letting some of the tension out of her shoulders. Reluctant as she may be to acknowledge and embrace her Andalite heritage, she does always feel more comfortable in the wide expanse of the Dome.
She walks a small distance away from the entryway, letting the illusion of the Homeworld envelop her. A brief, nagging sense of sadness tugs at her subconscious. The only memories she has of this place is being shunted aside, a vecol who threw her lot in with the Yeerks. Part of her wishes she could remember what the Homeworld had been to her before the memory wipe. It seemed like such a nice place, on the surface.
With some reluctance, she relinquishes her human form, shedding the morph and allowing her Andalite self to take precedence. She does so in the shade of one of the trees, uncomfortable with others watching her demorph, even with her natural aptitude for making the process less grizzly.
Once the process is complete, she steps from the shadows and breaks into a slow, somewhat hesitant trot, letting the grass beneath her hooves nourish her as she continues to contemplate.
-
Xevec put the cleaner out of the way, and followed Efaen to the dome. He averted his eyes when she morphed, although when she did it the process didn't look as disgusting as when Visser Three did it. He watched her trot around, seeing if there was anything about the way she moved that seemed out of place compared to other Andalites.
It was good that she didn't want to actually be more Andalite, since that might cause her to be drawn to their side. He just had to make sure she knew there was a line between being one, and looking like one. If she could stride that line, she might make a good covert operative. Xevec knew there was a small possibility that Ossanlin had genuinely left the Electorate and was hoping to fill unwanted roles on the ship with rebels. If Keslin and Myitt decided to stay, and they weren't all being taken to Corvis, Efaen could become important. If they did decide to leave, and were allowed to do it, this was possibly a waste of time.
-
It takes Efaen several minutes before she realizes that she is being watched. Had she been more accustomed to her Andalite body, she would have noticed immediately, but despite having four eyes, she doesn't have the presence of mind to be looking in all four directions. Only when she finally remembers to swivel her stalk eyes back does she see that Xevec has followed her.
She continues to trot, letting out a small huff of irritation. <You do not need to keep an eye on me, you know,> she says to him as she runs, knowing that she is too far away for him to do much beyond shout back at her. <I do not need a guard.>
-
<<She thinks that, now that she's in a more formidable form, I think she needs a guard? That makes no sense.>> Xevec said to Derrel.
<<She's a weird one. She doesn't move her stalk eyes, so it took her this long to notice us.>> Derrel said.
"Finally remembered you had eye stalks!?" He yelled. He didn't really want to yell everything he felt like saying to her. Talking quietly in a hallway was one thing. He didn't want to make it any easier for the Andalites to know they were planning something. There was obviously no way he could keep up with her as she ran, so he'd have to wait for her to come his way or meet her as she came back around. If only they had communicators.
-
Efaen's main eyes narrow a little at the snipe, and she huffs another indignant sigh, pushing herself to run faster, her hooves kicking up clods of dirt as she makes a wide circle around the perimeter of the Dome. She only slows when she nears Xevec, her breathing heavy, flanks shining with sweat. In truth, it wasn't much exercise. Any of the warriors on the ship could have easily lapped her and continued running. But she was out of practice, unaccustomed to so much movement in this form. Her Andalite muscles had been given little opportunity to work.
<I am not accustomed to stalk eyes, no,> Efaen admits, her tone sour. <Looking in all directions is unsettling, whatever the advantages may be.>
-
"Then that's an area we'll make sure to work on." Xevec said, attempting his friendliest smile. Efaen was obviously not enjoying herself, and he wished he was in a position to offer something to help entice her. Back when he was a Subvisser, he tried the Human ploy of padding his subordinate's pockets a bit when they were less than pleased with what they had to do. It was definitely not standard Yeerk Empire procedure, but it had a dramatic effect on them. Especially if they were Human controllers who could go out and do more mundane things on Earth. Unfortunately he couldn't give Efaen any money or anything, and he obviously wasn't going to use force. He just had to be nice and civil.
"If you're on the bridge, you will want to watch everything you can, so you'll need to use those stalk eyes. If it bothers you, maybe you could just try some simple things. Maybe turning both of them simultaneously while your main eyes are closed. Maybe that will help you feel like you're looking with your main eyes, except you can see in 360 degrees. After you get used to that, you can try it with your main eyes open. Eventually you may be able to operate them like most Andalites do without a problem."
-
Efaen stares at Xevec.
<Have you ever had an Andalite host?> she asks, her words sharp as she steps towards him. <Do you have any idea what you are talking about, or are you just pulling it out of your ass? What's more, I agreed to help you, not to be told what to do by you. On what planet do you think I'll ever be permitted on the bridge? Did you miss the part where no one trusts me? Even if I can convince Claxter to give me the time of day, there are protocol in place preventing me from going there.>
Despite having no mouth, her scowl is evident in her eyes. <If you want to find out about what is going on on the bridge, you would likely be better served by asking one of your fellow Yeerks who spends his time there.>
-
"When I asked you to help me, I didn't mean to say that I expected you to do all the work alone. I'm trying to help you work through things so that we can work together. Yeah I said the bridge, though the stalk eye thing works in general. It's true I've never had an Andalite host, so I'm not speaking with any kind of experience. I could go in your head and try to get a feel for it myself, though if you want to try this all by yourself, I'll let you do that. There's no need to be so pessimistic, even if we are in a bad situation. That's when despair starts sinking in. You have to keep an optimistic mindset if you want to improve your situation."
<<This lady is proving to be hard to deal with. The plan is bad enough without her being so surly.>> Xevec said to Derrel.
<<Spirits are pretty low for everybody. I don't know if you're trying too hard, or not hard enough.>>
-
"Yes..yes I'm alright...sorry." Firin shakes himself out if his existential daze. Shock could wait until the threat had passed. "Lets get this done...this isn't what I signed up for when the blue-fur promised us sanctuary." He pops up and fans the room with full-auto ASAR fire, one human controller shimmering into view and crumpling as the stun-beam hits him. A hork-bajir controller drops his weapon as a stun bolt hits his weapon arm. "A pincer only works if both sides are in place."
Ossanlin watches the feed in slight surprise. This ship...was just a freighter. Why did it have such a large complement of heavily-armed special force shock-troops? <Stay alert...I'm working on programming your ARC's to help you see the camouflaged individuals. Observe as much as you can.> He glances at Esarvit.
<I'm working on it, Prince.> The Andalite is tapping furiously at his console as well as his personal modified ARC, analyzing and attempting to come up with a solution.
<Sir, the fighter bearing Keslin has returned.>
<Get him to the med-bay immediately. Alert the human medical staff.>
-
"You'd better hurry it the **** up, boss," states Joanne, exasperated, a Dracon beam firing from an invisible enemy very nearly over her head. Joanne cringes and fires a stun shot in his general direction, attempting to gain a better cover position as quickly as she can. "This isn' the greatest place in the universe."
It was clear that their plan had fallen apart, and that the only recourse was staying alive. Joanne perks up her ears, listening for the telltale sounds of human footsteps and movement in the chaos. She couldn't figure who would set a trap like this for them, and why--- Was it unintentional? Were these guys like plain-clothes cops wandering around looking for a score? It made more sense than the alternative, anyway...
"Where to now?" Joanne calls to Firin.
-
<You want to infest me?> Efaen looks shocked by the idea. <Why? The only person on base who even considered the idea was Arnash, another outcast? Why would you want to lower yourself to infesting the Andalite responsible for the death of so many of your people?>
-
"I'm not saying take you on as my host. I was just considering going in there for a bit to actually see what it's like having stalk eyes. I'm quite content with a Human partner as my standard host. It probably shouldn't be needed, though. There's got to be some kind of instinct for dealing with eye stalks. I mean, I know you don't care about being an Andalite, but there is a difference between learning to use a body, and being some arrogant snob who thinks they're better than anyone else and acts like a hypocrite. The best thing to do is probably just tap into those instincts to use the body properly, and you could make a good covert operative."
"As far as the death of my people go, I'm already responsible for a fair number of them. My hands are no less clean than yours."
<<You really like Humans more than Andalites?>> Derrel asked.
<<Very much. You might even say my level of dislike for grasseaters is over nine thousand.>>
<<I might also say you're a dork. The nineties called. They want their meme back.>>
<<Quiet.>>
-
Efaen's brows arch sharply. <Arrogant snob?> she echoes huffily. She closes her main eyes, as Illim taught her to do when she finds herself angry, and inhales deeply.
<Perhaps you are right,> she acknowledges slowly. <I find it difficult sometimes to remember that my Andalite instincts are the ones my mind is programmed to follow. I spend so much time in human morph...and I spent so much time on base trying to ignore the part of me that was Andalite...I am out of practice. I need to relax. But Xevec, no amount of giving in to Andalite instinct will make up for the fact that my Andalite knowledge is vastly limited. The Andalites here will not trust me for that fact alone. Hell, I don't even sound like them. They're...alien.>
-
"Yeah, those Andalites can be snobs."
"I don't think the Andalites are going to expect you to know much. All the more convenient excuse to ask questions, I think. Not too prodding at first, but we can take baby steps. Look, I know this is a long shot. I'll admit that. I just also think it's worth at least attempting."
-
Efaen sighs a little. <I will try,> she says. <However, at the moment, I cannot interfere. They are busy carrying out some mission or another, and they will not permit my presence.> She shrugs her narrow shoulders. <I suppose you are right; I could use the time to acclimate myself to this body.> Stretching her tail a little, she lets out a sigh. <It would be far easier if I could simply remain human permanently,> she laments quietly.
-
"Well we both know that becoming a Human nothlit has been done before, though having a morph capable ally has its uses for the rebellion. I probably wouldn't attempt nothlitism before we get a good supply of rations for the Humans, in any case."
"I'll leave you to your practice, if you'd like. We can talk later, after the mission is done and the Andalites come back to the dome."
-
Aetheas grows more and more concerned as he watches the feeds of the battle unfolding. They don't have the crew compliment for this sort of raid, and what crew they do have isn't equipped to deal with the enemy they're facing. His stalk eyes turn curiously towards the Captain. Ossanlin must still have faith in his boarding party, but the odds of them surviving this mission... let alone succeeding... without heavy casualties... seem to be decreasing by the minute.
This is one of the few areas wherein Aetheas does not entirely trust his own analysis of the situation. He feels he has no choice but to defer to the decisions of those with more experience in this case.
Still... it looks like such an unimpressive freighter...
<What are you hiding?> he mutters, frowning at the readout of the freighter in front of him.
Resseliss paces, around and around, in the tiny room, trying in vain to ignore the hunger gnawing at his gut.
-
Ossanlin grimaces as if he'd just stepped upon a patch of rotting grass. This is not the time...the Light were protecting something aboard that ship, and he desperately wants to know what...but it isn't worth losing people. Keslin is already in rough shape...this was supposed to be routine. Simple. A small crew, easy extra supplies... <Yaolin.>
He addresses the entire boarding crew. <Boarders, pull back. We're aborting. Tactical retreat on both fronts. Get back to the shuttle. Serid, Ferxal, keep that hatch clear until the humanoids get back.>
Ossanlin nods to Esarvit. <Get as much data from their ARC's as you can.>
Serid grimaces as he hears the call to retreat. The resistance was already several times that which was expected...in truth, he's surprised that the call to retreat had not come sooner. They did need supplies, but they needed living crew worse, and the crew was infinitely harder to obtain.
<Alright Ferxal, back it up.> Serid backs his way out of the hallway, still peppering the upper engineering deck with Shredder-fire.
Firin almost laughs as the order to retreat comes through. How the dapsen were they supposed to climb an exposed ladder under enemy fire? He looks over at Keshin and notices a glint from underneath the covering of the crate he's hiding behind. It's a crate of slightly-strange-looking handheld Dracons. He furrows his brow and pulls a couple out. They look almost exactly like a standard handheld, but are a bit wider. He tucks one under his belt and looks at the small display on the other. He turns it on and glances at Keshin again. "I found some Dracons...I could set one to overload and toss it behind their crates...?"
-
Ferxal did as commanded. He had wanted a nice battle to ease the stress of almost dying in space, but this was not an easy cathartic fight. It was worse than anyone would have expected, and the call to just retreat wasn't entirely surprising. He kept his main eyes on the hallway while his stalk eyes scanned around. <Hopefully retreat is still a viable option.>
The Hork-Bajir didn't like that the Andalites were going to retreat. "I want my friends to be saved too." He said. He grabbed a couple of dracons out of the crates, and for a moment had a look in his eyes like he might jump out beams blazing, but even his dim mind realized that just wasn't going to happen. at best he'd just be gunned down by invisible controllers. At worse he'd be recaptured.
-
Joanne glanced overhead slightly as she heard Ossanlin's call to retreat, as if it were coming over a nonexistent loudspeaker. "It's about time, Bluebutt," she muttered irritably. "But how in 'ell are we supposed to do it?!"
Joanne glanced around the room rapidly, looking for any logical means of escape. It was clear that any move for the ladder would get them shot, though. She could not afford to shift speed ever again, and climbing required too much precision for that.
Before she can think on it any further however, Ferxal suddenly mentions something peculiar being inside the crate he is up against. Weirdly shaped handheld Dracons. Are they defective, or some high-value prototype they could use? No time to think about it. "Okay that's good," mutters Joanne quickly. "Throw it quick. We're runnin' outta time and space to get around."
-
Firin nods and dials the Dracon up to overload. It starts to hum loudly. He tosses it over behind the crates by the other controllers and ducks behind his crate. He hears shouts and scampering thuds before a massive explosion nearly knocks the wind out of Rythil's lungs. Rythil's ears ring as Firin picks himself up...claxons seem to be the only thing piercing the Hork-Bajir's dulled hearing as he stands up and looks...his mouth drops open. Where the other controllers and crates had been, there was nothing...the far wall and a portion of the floor of the cargo bay had been ripped out and Firin could actually see the Tyrennian through the hole. The red glow of the emergency structural shielding is now the only thing separating him from space. He sees absolutely nothing left of the controllers...eithe r vaporized or sucked out into space.
-
Ferxal almost loses his footing as an explosion rocks the ship. <What was that?> He said, not looking nearly as surprised as a normal person would. It cam from the area where the secondary team was. <Is everyone ok?>
The Hork-Bajir fell to the ground from the shock. When he looked, he couldn't see anything. Not that the enemy was entirely visible before. The hole in the hull made him think that if they actually survived that, they would be sucked into space. He face was pained as all hope for saving his friends was dashed. It seemed he was going to be the only lucky one.
-
Joanne rapidly ducks behind her crate, screaming "Fire in the hole!" as Firin tosses the Dracon. Force of habit, she thought with a slight grin, but that was all she managed to think before a massive explosion nearly knocks her back into the crate she was leaning against. She just barely braced herself before it happened, hands over her ears and body scrunched up against the crate.
But it was clear the damage had been done. Joanne coughs up a lungful of smoke and her ears sounded like an air-raid siren had gotten lodged inside. <What...the...****...>
<Get it together, Joanne. It's....obvious something didn't go as planned...>
Joanne slowly lifts herself up off the ground and nearly cries out in shock. Below her, to her left side was.....The Tyrennian. She was standing just to the left of a massive hole in the ship's floor. They were literally only a few inches away from having died. Actually, she wasn't entirely clear on why she wasn't dead anyway--- She should be out in space!
"Aaaaahhh, what the **** Firin?!" she cried out in sudden panic.
-
Ossanlin monitors the situation as his boarding crew retreats before his front display lights up, a plume of flame billowing out of the cargo section of the Yeerk freighter. His hearts jump, but he controls his surprise. <Team report...do we still have everyone?>
"I...I don't...*cough*...the payload...was much higher than a handheld overload should have been." Firin stammers out, wiping his scaled brow.
<<Thirty-four.>>
<<This doesn't count.>>
<<Give me one good reason why.>>
<<It wasn't...this isn't the time for this.>>
<<It never is when you're wrong.>>
Firin growls but takes the opportunity to move toward the ladder. He feels himself lightening suddenly. The ship's anti-grav must be losing power. That would be really problematic for the Andalites. He reaches the ladder and starts climbing. "I'm not a demolitions expert..." He says, as if to himself, but loud enough for Keshin and the other Hork-Bajir to hear.
Serid steadies himself as the ship recovers from the blast. He uses his command functions to access the ARC of each remaining individual of the team. <Everyone appears to have survived, my Prince.> He continues to fire down the hallway, though return fire has all but ceased. <We are holding near the hatch...> He cuts off as the ship's artificial gravity weakens. <The artificial gravity is weakening.>
He directs a stalk-eye at Ferxal. <Are you able to morph a kafit if necessary, Warrior?>
-
<Yes, I have a Kafit morph.> Ferxal said. He really hoped he didn't have to do it. Partly because he'd lose all his interesting battle scars, and partly because doing the initial morph that every cadet goes through it was the only time he had ever morphed in his years of service. He didn't know if he could control the bird instincts if he needed to morph, and they had no time to be chasing a Kafit bird around the ship.
The nameless Hork-Bajir waited at the ladder for Joanne, to make sure she made it out, then would follow behind. He had received the least amoutn of shock from th explosion, so he felt he should take up the rear.
-
Joanne hastily steadies herself in light of the depleting...weight?....gravity. It was definitely called gravity. She had to have learned something in middle school science class all those years ago. Joanne hurries up the ladder ahead of Ferxal. She calls back, "Come on, buddy!" as soon as she sees him lingering. It was not a good idea to stay in that room.
"Clearly not!" Joanne says irritably, upon hearing Firin's comment on the rafters.
-
The Hork-Bajir followed Joanne up, hoping to see the Andalites were ok. It was an odd thought. All those years fighting them, and he was saved by one of them. Thinking about it too much made his head hurt, since he didn't have a lot of practice actually thinking for himself. He was also getting distracted by the fact that he was getting lighter. For a minute he thought he was getting stronger because he could life himself easily, but he didn't know why he was getting stronger.
"I feel weird."
-
Firin glances back at the nameless Hork-Bajir. "Gravity generators are failing." He jumps out of the hatch behind Keshin in front of Ferxal and Serid. The two Andalites looked a bit unsteady in the lessening gravity. "Let's get out of here..." He glances around the room...so many unconscious humans. He picks up a younger-looking male...perhaps a teenager or young adult and begins dragging him. Surprised by the human's lightness in the fading gravity, he also grabs a slightly-older female, pulling them both back toward the docking bay. He might only be able to save two of the controllers in the given circumstances, but that was better than none. "Grab the other Hork-Bajir," he calls back to the Hork-Bajir for which he still has no name. There was one other Hork-Bajir lying unconscious in the room.
Serid gratefully notes the three secondary team-members' return from belowdecks. He glances at Firin as the Hork-Bajir speaks and nods, moving his own way back toward the docking bay. Even in the weakening gravity, he wouldn't be strong enough to carry any of the controllers, and there wasn't enough time for a morph. Any controller he could carry would still have to have the weight of a child in this gravity...Serid blinks. The child...he could retrieve the child that had shot Keslin. He quickly moves toward the crates where the unconscious child is laying.
-
The Hork-Bajir grabs the female Hork-Bajir and starts pulling her towards the ship. Ferxal knew his arms weren't strong enough to carry someone, but he looped his tail through a Human's shirt and pulled him that way. The Human was a skinny young adult. He kept an eye on his tail blade so he didn't slice into the unconscious controller.
He knew that there were still controllers alive in this place, and as the ship began failing they would attempt the only thing that meant their survival: trying to steal the ship. <Everyone be careful until we're absolutely safe.>
-
Aetheas's hearts leap when a plume of flame and debris rips a hole in the freighter. <Captain!> he says before he can stop himself, but of course Ossanlin's already noticed. He glances towards Claxter, trying to see what his mentor makes of this situation.
He continues to watch with rapt attention. Almost as an afterthought, he sets the Tyrennian's computer to record the effects of the high-velocity ejecta against the shields so that he can review it later.
<They need to get to the ship,> he mutters, not realizing that he's speaking aloud. <They need to leave that freighter...>
-
Claxter had been keeping tabs on the situation, and keeping an eye out for anything else exiting Z-Space or just flying towards them in normal space. His attention was diverted with the explosion, and he looked at Ossanlin and Aetheas with concern. However he didn't kick the Tyrennian in gear to move closer to the freighter. He had to wait for an order, and not jump into anything needlessly. This was supposed to be a routine raid. They couldn't afford complications like this.
-
Ossanlin scans the situation as Aetheas speaks up. <<They are still alive, but you are correct, haste is important given the situation.>>
Firin moves quickly to the transport, piling the human controllers up against one wall inside. He quickly does a once-over, pulling a handheld Dracon from behind the waistband of the older woman's uniform. "Come on, blue-furs...gallop!" Firin shocks himself a bit with the outburst...he takes a few deep breaths and calms himself. Logic.
<<I sense evolution...how remarkable.>>
<<Quiet.>>
Serid makes it to the unconscious child and picks him up, though his hooves' contact with the floor of the bay is tenuous at best now. He scrabbles his hooves across the floor and makes it to the transport, setting the child against the wall with the other two already there. He pulls another handheld Dracon from the child, frowning with his eyes. <Prince Ossanlin, we are boarding.>
Serid glances out as he watches the others make their way to the boarding craft. <Hurry...we must leave at once.> He moves to the front of the craft and begins the startup cycle.
-
Ferxal was a bit behind serid, as he was pulling a Human along. More and more he could feel his weight lifting, and having difficulty moving forward. He considered giving up on the Human, but everyone else had made an honest effort to at least save someone. As he got to a doorway, he pushed off from the wall, almost looking like he was swimming as he made it to the ship. Finally he was clear, and he pulled the Human inside. He made sure to disarm and keep an eye on the prisoner.
The Hork-Bajir had also made it with his comrade. After a moment of rest, he smiled at Ferxal.
"We safe now?"
<We should be. I am Ferxal, by the way. What is your name?>
"Most Hork-Bajir given names. My master say property not should have names, so I not have one. You save me. Maybe you give name?"
<Give you a name?> Ferxal asked. It was an odd thing. <Um...Breeyar.> He said, pulling a random name. It was an Andalite name, but that was honestly the only type of name he knew. It wasn't like he ever needed to know the names of his enemies, or their slaves. In any case, the newly freed Hork-Bajir looked satisfied.
"Thank you."
<You are welcome.>
-
The situation was getting increasingly difficult. Joanne's rapidly decreasing weight was causing her to drift slightly off the ground. They had to get in range of the transport before it took off. Luckily they weren't losing track of the others. Joanne, upon seeing the transport, uses the last bit of traction she can manage to push herself onto the transport's edge. She grasps the side of the entrance and hoists herself inside, breathing faster in normal.
<Kess, that was way too close. We did a ****ing moonjump for that last bit.>
<We made it, didn't we? Paranoia later, head count now.>
Joanne hurriedly glances around to make sure all the Hork-Bajir and Andalites have made it on. She counts a few new add-ons in the form of the human-controllers, Ferxal, Firin, and Serid. Everyone else also seems to be accounted for. "Good, the whole away team made it," she mutters breathlessly. "Next time we want to blow a Dracon, let's make sure we bloody know what it is, al'rite?"
-
Aetheas allows himself to breathe as the team begins to make its way back to the transport. He finds, to his surprise, that he's had all four eyes glued to his displays-- he's rarely so careless, but this is not a normal situation.
-
Serid glances back and does a second check to make sure everyone is onboard. Once his head count is complete, he seals the hatch and punches the warmed engines, jetting out of the hangar. He pulls a maximum burn straight out, the fighters forming up around the transport as an escort. The ship's computer registers increasing heat and radiation signatures and the display shows bursts of decompression happening all over the ship.
The engines roar as the transport labors to get away from the dying vessel. Suddenly the screen polarizes as a blinding white light sears through space. A second later, Serid nearly falls backward as a shock-wave blasts against the transport's shields pushing the ship faster than its own engines could carry it. He steadies himself as the ship rides out the shockwave. He doesn't think about how close they'd all just come to death.
"Everyone's on...get this thing moving!" Firin watches as the hatch seals and the ship rockets into motion. He watches the freighter blowing itself apart, and then squints his eyes against the core-nova flash. A moment later, he drops to one knee as the ship blasts forward on the shockwave, bracing one hand against the hull. "Dapsen."
Ossanlin watches his displays as the transport departs the dying freighter.
<Sir, gamma spike!> Esarvit glances back at Ossanlin with a stalk-eye.
<Forward shields, maximum resistance!> Ossanlin calls out as he watches the second freighter core-nova. The blast-wave hits the small transport, pushing it forward at hyper-velocity for a moment before it clears. The Tyrennian shifts just a bit underfoot as the shockwave washes against the large ship's shields. <Good work everyone. Please report to the bridge once you've landed.>
Ossanlin takes a deep breath...but Keslin is still in serious condition...his loss, should it come to that, would be incredibly painful for everyone aboard.
-
Ferxal had just started relaxing when suddenly the ship they were on exploded, and shook their own ship. Both he and Breeyar fell against the wall they were standing by, but recovered well enough. The limp, unconscious controllers got jostled, and piled up in the corner. Luckily there was no real damage as he began putting them in more comfortable positions.
-
Aetheas notices the growing energy surge from the freighter only an instant before Esvarit points it out. <No!> he gasps, his mind reeling at just how close the mission had come to complete disaster. The transport should... should make it out of the shockwave in one piece at its current distance, but had they been only seconds later...
He quickly sets back his recording about thirty seconds and plays it, scrutinizing the images, searching for any signs on any of his readings that the core of the vessel had been about to nova, but is unable to spot anything on this playthrough, either, up until only a brief moment before the core actually ruptures. Frowning, he returns his full attention to the situation at hand, vowing to return to this recording later. There must be something there, something he could have spotted that wouldn't have left the lives of the team to fate alone, and he curses himself for not having spotted it sooner. For now, however, the team may require his assistance.
-
Claxter was relieved to see everyone make it out of there. The mission hadn't been a total loss, but given what they initially expected this had gone quite poorly. Some new Yeerk tech had been used, and he wasn't sure if they managed to get anything aboard unless there was something on the controller's bodies.
He almost missed a tiny blip on one of his scanners. Something at the very edge of the scanner's range had appeared in real space just before the explosion. After that, it eased away. Perhaps the Blade ship really had tried to come back, but after the last ship blew up they decided it wasn't worth it anymore. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
<Prince Ossanlin, sir, I believe after we collect our troops we should leave immediately.> He said. Though Ossanlin likely would have given that order anyway.
-
As Joanne tries to get her bearings on the transport, a massive shockwave suddenly rips through the ship and nearly knocks her off her feet. Joanne cries out as the effect of the shockwave interacting with her natural electric current stands her hair up on end and sends jolts of electricity upwards from her arms and legs. No, no, no...she can't afford for anything to knock her off her perfect balance! Joanne closes her eyes, wincing and hoping she didn't send any of those bits of current towards anyone else in the transport.
She opens her eyes nervously, looking around. No one else appears to be too badly injured, although some of their number have been thrown against the wall. She hopes that they were too distracted to notice what just happened--- They probably were. Although her frizzy hair is somewhat hilarious. Joanne moves one leg, and momentarily finds it stuck as if briefly magnetized. She snickers slightly and shakes herself, relieved at how lucky she appears to have gotten.
<That was....By the Kandrona. I hope we didn't lose anything.>
<Don' think so. Just a little loss of balance, right? No problem.>
-
Ossanlin glances at Aetheas and then Claxter. <Yes, you're right, Prince-Lieutenant. Begin plotting a Z-Space route to our originally intended coordinates immediately. Once the transport is safely-aboard, make the jump. I'm heading down, Esarvit...dispatch security teams and what human medical staff we can spare from Keslin to the hangars. We'll need to transport the liberated controllers to holding to starve out their controllers.> Ossanlin moves toward the lift exit from the bridge. <Esarvit, you have the bridge.>
<Yes, sir.>
Serid breathes deeply as the shockwave passes completely and pilots the transport to the hangar. This place is all but giving him the shakes, he'll be glad to see the blank whiteness of Z-Space once they're aboard the Tyrennian. He makes a turn around the back of the Dome Ship and glides the ship through the atmospheric retention field into the hangar. He glances behind with his stalk-eyes, surveying the other passengers as the ship glides to a landing. <Everyone alright?>
Firin breathes a sigh of relief as the transport touches down safely within the Andalite Dome Ship. He chuckles to himself mirthlessly as he considers the audacity of "safety" and "Andalite Dome Ship" being in the same sentence. He still has the personal shielding/stealth device as well as the suped-up Dracon tucked behind his belt, but he frowns at Serid's question. "Obviously not...Keslin had a hole blown through him if you'll remember."
Eleric bursts a bit of raw plasma from his engines to spin himself around in a high-performance maneuver, rocketing into his fighter's docking bay. The rest of his squadron lands in a more-sedate, safer manner. He opens his comm with Ossanlin. <All exo-craft aboard and accounted-for, Prince.>
-
Claxter sets coordinates and prepares for Z-Space. One the hangar doors are closed, he starts the jump. <Jumping to Z-Space.> He said, taking one final look at his scanners. Nothing reading. He really hoped that whatever handheld cloaking technology the controllers had, they didn't have larger versions for ships. As the Tyrennian made its way in, he relaxes a bit. The last thing this crew needed was these kind of complications.
<Technically it was his host that was shot, but it was certainly bad.> Ferxal said. He felt partly responsible for the accident, and wondered if he would be reprimanded for it, as it was his job to scout the room out. Firin had the job too, but that didn't really excuse his mistake. As the ship docked, he looked for cables to bind the controller's hands and feet. He didn't really want to start injecting everyone with sedatives, unless that's what his superiors thought was best. Breeyar helps him make sure the knots were tight enough, since his hands were stronger. Presumably the Tyrennian's crew would bring stretchers to put them on. He was feeling a little more at ease since he almost suffocated in his own damaged fighter, though this hadn't been the satisfying raid he was hoping for.
Through a stalk eye, he noticed one Andalite Fighter coming in carelessly. It was either some rookie who didn't know how to fly properly, or some reckless young blade who hadn't learned professionalism.
-
Firin furrows his brow at Ferxal. "If you knew anything about us, blue-fur, you'd understand that we've developed symbiotic relationships with our hosts, so much so that we might as well be one person with two minds. Keslin and Chris have been through events together that you would shudder even to imagine. One is not whole without the other."
Rythil surges a bit as he sees the other Hork-Bajir. <Let me take command for awhile.>
<Very well...I need a break from alll of this anyway.> Firin retreats back into his own mind.
Rythil walks over to the rescued Hork-Bajir and smiles cordially, trying his best to help with the cords. "That was brave back there, what you did to help us. I'm happy to have a brother aboard this ship. I'm Rythil, what's your name?"
-
Ferxal made a mental note of what Firin said. Perhaps he would be around long about to see this "symbiotic relationship" for himself.
Breeyar looked at the controller. "It was first time I had choice to do anything. Master keep me in cage for long time. Not even give name. Ferxal save me, so I want to save friends. But I not save many. Ferxal give name Breeyar. I am Breeyar now. Rythil, do you really like Firin? I think you be whole enough without Yeerk in head."
-
Rythil frowns a bit, glancing over at Ferxal. "I'm sorry we couldn't save more...we wanted to save them all, but there was a heavier resistance than a mere freighter suggested." He winces as he pulls the cords tight around one of the humans' hands. "You...don't remember your name from...before? The one you were given in front of...Father Deep and Mother Sky?" He hesitates to use the old religious figures of the Hork-Bajir, but it was often deeply ingrained in most Hork-Bajir. "Breeyar sounds awfully....blue."
He closes his eyes a moment as he tries to put it to words. "I...I know it's hard to believe. But each Yeerk is unique. They're different people...like you and I. We're both Hork-Bajir, but we're different people with different experiences that define...well, we're the same and different at the same time. Yeerks are like that too. I know there are a lot of horrible, bad ones, but there are a few good ones out there that are trying to stop the bad ones. Firin...he's trying to stop the bad ones. He needs my help to do that."
<<Keep telling yourself that.>>
<<Go back to thinking, you'd be lost without me and you know it.>>
<<...>>
"He needs my help, and if we stop the bad ones, then the rest of our people can be free from the bad ones too. We can all live in peace again. Firin is brilliant...his mind could help us stop the bad Yeerks. I'm willing to put up with him for that alone, but we are also friends."
<<Keep telling yourself that.>>
<<Shut up, you love me.>>
<<...>>
"He seems a little...well...col d at first, but once you get past that, he's actually nice." Rythil smiles a bit again. "He hid the fact that I was a 'seer' from the bad Yeerks, and he helped me to escape. I owe him a lot."
<<Try everything.>>
<<You owe me just as much. Who was it that showed you how stupid the Empire was again?>>
<<...>>
<<That's what I thought.>>
-
"I had name when I was young. Master say slaves not deserve names. Most Yeerks let slaves have name, but mine not agree. He punish me so much for thinking of old name. Mother and Father are far away. Parents far away." He stopped talking for a minute as his voice started to crack.
He looked up at Ferxal "What does Breeyar mean?"
<It denotes bravery, and determination, in the face of adversity. We Andalites give our children names in the hopes that they will live up to that name. Incidentally, Ferxal means stoic and wise. For that I strive to maintain emotional control.>
"Both nice names. I do not remember old name. May never remember. I will try find parents, and save them. Maybe they still know old name."
-
Aetheas sighs with relief when the transport and fighters finally settle aboard the Tyrennian. With little hesitation, he sets his ARC to play back the moments leading up to the core-nova of the freighter, scrutinizing it in detail. Once the recording has finished, he plays it back again, this time in slow motion.
Was there something there? Something in real space, some distance from the freighter... just a blip, appearing moments before the explosion...
He changes the filters and feedback of the recording and begins to play it back again, but something on the console in front of him catches his attention. Something has emerged from Z-space in this sector. Three somethings, though at this distance, its impossible to tell who or what they are. Mere seconds later, the Tyrennian itself slides into Z-space.
He flips urgently through his displays, trying to see if he can gather more information, but stops when he hits the one showing the transport, eying the vital signs and life readings of the newly captured... liberated? Controllers aboard. So much data to analyze, but it may have to wait.
<Sir,> he begins, turning his main eyes towards Ossanlin, <is it too soon to begin debriefing the boarding party? I'd like to begin putting together a picture of what's just happened.>
-
Joanne gradually gets her bearings again, noticing that they've managed to get aboard the Tyrennian. She smiles with obvious relief. For her first mission for Captain Blue Deer, this one really wasn't all that bad. Absolutely nothing could be stranger, anyway, than that one mission she had with Myitt to the beach. She never was able to work out whether or not she had hallucinated the entire thing...
Joanne steps tentatively out of the transport, glancing back at the rest of the boarding team. She holds up a finger, looking at Firin. "Do me a favor and never set anythin' on bloody fire when we don' know what it is. That never ****in' ends well!"
-
Ossanlin pauses as he makes his way through the door of the bridge. He turns a stalk-eye on Claxter and can't help but notice how very quickly he'd plotted the Z-Space navigation. He'd had no inkling that Claxter was so deft at manipulating Z-Space and the minute calculations required to travel through it safely. He'd plotted the course nearly as fast as Ennoryma...excellen t. He turns his main eyes on Aetheas. Seeing as Claxter didn't need his assistance...
<Well done Prince-Lieutenant.> He nods to Claxter before shifting his gaze to Aetheas. <I'm on my way to the hangar now to receive them, Warrior. As the Prince has calculated his trajectories already, I see no problem with you joining me should you desire.> He turns back toward the concourse and makes a brisk pace to the hangar.
Rythil wrinkles his eyes a bit as "Breeyar" compliments the Andalite nomenclature, but says nothing on it. No need to upset his newly-liberated comrade. He resolves to have a talk with the Hork-Bajir later...maybe reminiscing about the Homeworld would help him remember his true name.
He hears Joanne speak up, and notices Firin's reaction quite solidly. He glances at the human controller. "I'm sorry...he seems to be ignoring you. He can get this way when he makes a mistake. But, to his credit, a normal Dracon overload wouldn't have been nearly so energetic."
-
<Thank you, my Prince.> Claxter said. He kind of impressed himself with the ease he had taken to the role of pilot. Of course he had been running through the calculations beforehand, as he expected they'd be jumping soon after everyone was back aboard. The only thing left were the actual commands and keystrokes, and computers did this kind of thing even faster than Andalites. Maybe when everything settled a bit, he'd have time to speak with Ferxal. It wasn't csomething he wanted to do, but he felt the need to get it out of the way.
Ferxal exited the craft, and waited for Prince Ossanlin to come and get their report. Breeyar stood behind him, somewhat awkwardly, unsure of what he was supposed to do now.
-
Ossanlin makes his way through the halls and ramp-wells of the Tyrennian, trusting Aetheas to follow if he wants to. When he reaches the hangar, he notes the fighter pilots tending their ships in the bays and makes his way to the landed transport. They'd managed to rescue a few controllers, most of them were already bound. He nods to Serid as the security Warriors come to collect the controllers and move them to the Tyrennian's morph-proof brig. He also nods to Keshin whom had actually done what he'd said he would.
<Reports if you please.>
Serid glances up as Prince Ossanlin approaches. <Prince. We encountered heavy resistance, but everyone save Keslin made it back without significant injury.>
-
<Sir, I managed to convince a Yeerk to accept a quick death, and this former slave has helped our cause.> Ferxal said. <He was previously disallowed to have a name, so I have named him Breeyar.> As he said it, it just occurred to him that Ossanlin may not like the idea of a non Andalite having an Andalite name. It's not as if there was protocol for this kind of thing, though. Breeyar himself didn't say anything, and didn't make eye contact with the Prince. <Perhaps the other Yeerks will be open to the same ultimatum.>
<If I may, I would like to ask about Chris' current state. I feel partially responsible for him getting wounded, as it was my job to secure the area.>
-
"Still a ****in' horrid idea," Joanne said to Rythil. "If you gotta improvise a gun, make sure ya know the make an' model before takin' your shot. 'Specially with these alien weapons. But you're right about mos' Dracons, anyway...they don' usually blow the hull open when ya set 'em off."
Not long afterward, Ossanlin slowly came into the hangar bay to greet them. Joanne noticed Ossanlin's nod of affirmation. <Oh good, Bluebutt noticed we didn' kill nobody. Now maybe he'll get off our ruddy ass.>
<One mission unscathed isn't going to win his trust. We'll need several more if we plan to successfully upload the Tyrennian's schematics to Salem.>
<You're gonna do that?!>
<...if I find that it turns a profit for us that is worth more than working for the Andalite idealist. We'll see...>
Keshin shifts back into control and states, "All of us are present and accounted for, but the ship we boarded was no ordinary transport. The Dracons onboard could blow a hole in the hull, and as you know the entire crew was cloaked. You did not intend to, Ossanlin, but you very nearly sent us on a suicide mission. We all survived intact because of quick thinking on the squad leader, Serid's, part."
-
Rythil furrows his brow and shakes his head a bit before speaking to Keshin again. "He has conjectured that you did not present a better option. I'm sorry, if I don't convey his thoughts from time to time, he gets cranky."
<<You are such an odd grenlat.>>
<<Takes one to know one.>>
Rythil glances up at the blue-fur and his expression becomes one of stoicism. Clearly an attempt at hiding his true emotions toward the Andalite and the rest of his kind. "It was a suicide mission. But I suppose you didn't know that." His voice carries a hint of disbelief. "Still we did not return empty-handed. We procured one of the Imperial's personal shield devices. Firin will be digging into that when we have time to collect ourselves. We may be able to glean some useful information, perhaps even replicate the device given the proper materials." Rythil purposely doesn't mention the other suped-up Dracon Firin had grabbed.
Ossanlin nods to Rythil, and doesn't push the issue further. <Very well, I'll leave it in your hands then, but I expect regular status reports on your research.>
He shifts his main eyes to Keshin. <A good plan only lasts up until the battle starts. It is obvious that the freighter was protecting something. The goal had been to secure the ship and strip it of all usefuls. Unfortunately that didn't happen, but we cannot allow the unexpected to derail our faculties.> He doesn't acknowledge the truth in Keshin's statement. The safest option would've been to pull everyone out at the first sign of energy-shielded special operatives, but Ossanlin had very dearly wanted to know what the ship was hiding.
<In any case, I appreciate your honesty, and your obedience. I must still keep you cordoned to specific portions of the ship, but I will release some of your computer privileges. I mean these for research purposes only, and I might suggest that you access the database regarding morphing, specifically nothlitism. You must be absolutely certain it's what you want before we go any further.>
Ossanlin turns his gaze to Serid and nods appreciatively. <Good work, Command Warrior. You may have the rest of your shift for rest and leisure.> He scans the entire group. <That goes for all of you. Rest up and take some time off. I may ask you to take up duties soon, those of you whom are interested at any rate.>
Ossanlin moves his gaze to Ferxal. <He's undergoing treatment...the medical controllers are doing everything they can. I assure you that the other Imperials will be given the same options. Serid will keep you updated.>
Serid eye-smiles a bit at Keshin's compliment. It had truly been a team effort, in fact he hadn't really felt that he'd done anything special, but perhaps he had handled himself as a proper forces commander should. He tail-salutes Ossanlin at his dismissal and turns to the group. <Thank you all for your assistance today. I will personally make certain that each of you is debriefed on Commander Keslin's condition as soon as I have any pertinent information.> He glances his main eyes back at Ossanlin.
Ossanlin tail-salutes and begins to make his way back up to the bridge. They needed to find some place out of the way, untraveled. Somewhere to build some sort of bare-bones outfitting dock for the Tyrennian. She wouldn't stay space-worthy and serviceable long enough without one.
-
<Thank you sir.> Ferxal said. At least he wasn't dead yet. That was something. He returns the tail salute, and begins walking back towards the dome. As he reenters the blessed patch of Homeworld, he starts relaxing fully. That had been some ordeal.
Breeyar followed Ferxal to the dome, and started walking around and taking it all in. As he wandered, he tasted the water, and took a little bark from a tree. It certainly wasn't bad. After a bit, he started using a branch to do pull ups. His master had always used off time to either rest or train, and he really didn't think of much else to do. He didn't want to rest, because now he could actually use his body. He wasn't stuck in a cage anymore.
-
Aetheas follows Ossanlin to the shuttle bay. Before his eyes, his ARC plays and replays the moments before the destruction of the freighter as seen by the Tyrennian's sensors, and each time the sequence reaches its end, Aetheas applies another filter and plays it again. He's only half-listening to the reports of the away team; he notes, with some interest, the 'rescued' Controllers that have been brought aboard.
New filter. Playback. Rewind further. Zoom. Tweak angle. Block x-ray emissions. Amplify gamma. Overlay known background radiation. Playback. Stop. Zoom. Nothing. Reset playback. New filter.
He'll have to see if he can glean some information from the new arrivals.
With a moment's hesitation, he mimics Ossanlin's tail-salute to the returned crew and turns to follow the Captain. With a sigh, he shuts off his ARC's projections. This analysis will have to wait for a time when he can concentrate.
<Captain,> he voices hesitantly, <the mission... the team...> He struggles to find his words. <They were moments from being caught in the blast, and I saw nothing. I noticed no energy surge, no anomalies that suggested that the freighter's core was about to breach. There was no pattern, nothing one would expect to precede such an event normally, and if they'd been... If they'd been a few moments slower in leaving, I don't know what I could have done... what I should have done...> He looks at Ossanlin uncertainly. He's babbling, which is unlike him, but he can't seem to find the words to ask the question... the hundreds of questions... that are bouncing around his skull...
-
Ossanlin makes his way into the Dome to feed a bit on his way back to the bridge. <Your observations hold some validity, Warrior. Most nova situations show signs, but I doubt you'll find any signs more than a second before the nova itself. It seems fairly obvious that those onboard self-destructed the ship.> He trots briskly over the grass. <Why and to what end we can only guess. Perhaps to protect whatever the ship held...perhaps to avoid starvation. It's all nothing more than mere conjecture.>
<In order to command, you must balance risk with potential gain. A bit of luck helps as well.> <<And given the circumstances, we were lucky.>> Ossanlin continues to stroll at a semi-leisurely pace trying to think of hidden places. <If you want to know how I made the decision to remove them...there isn't a formula or equation that will tell you exactly what to do, Aetheas. I removed them because I felt that the risk had come to outweigh the potential reward.>
-
Aetheas falls into step beside Ossanlin and sighs as a gentle breeze plays across his fur. He nods as he listens to Ossanlin's assessment of what he'd just witnessed. A self-destruct would account for the sudden destruction of the ship with no forewarning.
<A self-destruct would be the coward's way out,> he speculates, then pauses. <Or the martyr's.> He notes, with some interest, that the Captain's presence seems to be making him more comfortable speaking his thoughts as time goes on. Unusual, considering his usual disdain for authority and his initial... and, admittedly, continued intimidation at the hooves of this, the War Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel. There must be something in Ossanlin's demeanor, in his tendency to speak across to Aetheas, rather than down... though that can't be all there is to it. He'll have to self-evaluate later.
<It's... unusual to find a Yeerk who would be willing to sacrifice himself to destroy his enemies, or to protect a secret. More unusual still to find an entire group willing to go along with such an action. Most or all of those caught in the blast, Yeerk and host, were likely destroyed involuntarily.> If he feels anything relating to this, it doesn't show; his voice and his outlook remain strictly analytical. <It's possible this is a defense employed specifically by this Light... even without consent of those aboard. On the other hand, it could just have been the doing of one Yeerk.> His stalk eyes turn towards his ARC-- perhaps he can figure something out from those recordings after all.
<If we run across the Light again, it would be advantageous to know more about their capabilities and tactics than we did in this encounter.> He looks towards Ossanlin and speaks directly to him, rather than half to himself as he's been doing, <Perhaps we can supplement your feelings of risk versus reward next time.> He gives the Captain a rare, brief eye-smile.
<With your permission, Captain, I would like to contribute to the investigation of the capabilities and tactics encountered. Analysis of the data, deconstruction of the technology, questioning of the...> he pauses. Prisoners? Refugees? <...New arrivals.>
-
Ossanlin regards Aetheas with his main eyes, listening as the Warrior speaks. <I will admit, my knowledge about the Light is limited. What little I know suggests that they are...fanatical. In a different but not wholly dissimilar way to Sector Seven. While Sector Seven touts a logical approach, whether misguided or not, the Light instead takes an almost religious tack. I would not put it past them to die in a blaze of ionized plasma rather than let something precious to them fall into Andalite hands. Or the Temser in charge of that vessel may have remotely destroyed it...difficult to say.> He shakes his head a bit. <I do wish we could've discovered what that ship was hiding. But such are the lamentations of the curious.>
<Any information is good information, Warrior, and I'd be glad for any revelations regarding the Light. But I no longer have contact with my sources...we could ask the rebels perhaps, but I wouldn't be surprised if they know little more than I. Shadow societies don't exactly broadcast their actions or intent, even amongst their own people.> The far wall of the dome begins to phase into view as they reach the edge of the simulated paradise.
<By all means, Aetheas. If you believe you can get any of the prisoners to talk...> Ossanlin pauses, his main eyes widening. <The rebels...the rebels brought at least one set of their memory probes. We could perform memory dumps on all of the Yeerks and hosts.> Ossanlin smiles a bit back at Aetheas. <Thank you Warrior...I may not have thought of that without your queries regarding intelligence.> He pauses, considering which rebel would be best to ask...probably Myitt, though perhaps the medical controllers would be best-suited to perform the task. <I must ask one thing of you...the Hork-Bajir controller is in possession of the enemy shielding device as well as one of the modified Dracon beams, both confiscated from the ship. They are both talented engineers, I have left the technology with them for the moment as a gesture of faith and goodwill. If you want to peruse the technology, you will have to ask them...and relent if they refuse. As long as that is within your capabilities, and I firmly believe that it is, you may do as you ask.>
-
~Narration~
Facing uncertain and grim odds at best, the stalwart crew of the Tyrennian rocketed through Z-Space in search of someplace they could call home. Where could they go? Where could they build that they wouldn't be found? These questions and more ran through every head aboard. There had been some rumors from the pirate rebels...some sort of "backup" site. Keslin had the coordinates and apparently knew how to get in and out...but his injuries would force the crew to wait. Every site seemed too far away, or too well-known, or too deep within either Andalite or Yeerk space. Hopefully Keslin's "backup" would hold the keys to survival.
For now, the Tyrennian moves through Z-Space, maintaining its carefully-obtained homeostasis. Even if they found somewhere...if they found enough supplies to survive that long...it would be months before a rudimentary space-dock could be constructed. Will the Rogue Element fight on, or will they fail even before they begin?
"Remember this above all, a martyr does little good once his death comes to pass. Come home to us, so that you may celebrate victory alongside us all."
~Caradin-Firon-Merialk
Prime Speaker, The Peoples' High Senatorial Electorate
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