<The enemy remains the enemy, no matter how abhorrent killing is,> Efaen says simply, and her words take on a pedantic, almost rehearsed sounding, tone, <Andalites do not enjoy death, but it is the only logical conclusion to the Yeerk problem. The war itself is evidence to the fact that a live Yeerk is a dangerous Yeerk, moreso if they have Imperial allegiance. Therefore, following that logic, it does not matter if I enjoy killing. I do not enjoy the death of a sentient being. I do, however, enjoy the fact that in that each time one of those sentient beings perishes a new hope for freedom springs in its wake.>
Efaen breaks off her little speech, glancing out the viewscreen. The violence overall seems to have calmed somewhat. She looks back at Corliss, then to the pool carrying Terenia. When she speaks again it is private, purposefully excluding Terenia from the conversation, even though she knows that Terenia will be able to see it later.
<<I loathe her,>> she says, though there is little actual anger in her voice, <<but she is not a Yeerk. The Andalites, they will think that I am a traitor if they ever discover our partnership. They will not see the truth. That she is not truly one of your kind, and that she represents the clearest path to my success in this war. It would be helpful to both of us if we had someone who could stand next to us, when Captain Ossanlin returns. I know Terenia would appreciate it. She admires you,>> the final sentences sounds sour in Efaen's 'voice', as though the mere thought of advocating Terenia's happiness makes her ill.
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Trey continues to inch back towards the door, freezing only for a moment as Mar's eyes pass over him. Then the strange man's attention returns to Elayne and he relaxes, turning and exiting the hall entirely.
When he enters the bar proper again it has changed subtly. He notices that a few faces are missing, and out of everyone remaining in the bar he recognizes precious few. One of those that he does recognize is The Director and, after steeling himself, he goes up to him and takes a nearby barstool.
"I suppose you're right," he says quietly, by way of introduction, "I am a bit of a mouse."