<We're going to die,> Tamora says, breaking the relative silence of the med bay. Zorish chooses not to answer her; he is far too busy sifting through their shared consciousness to find some sort of escape.
<Did you hear me?> Tamora demands, <We're going to die!>
<I heard you,> Zorish snaps, <we are not going to die.>
<Yes we are, they're going to kill us! They're going to ->
<Tamora,> Zorish says tersely, <stop yammering on like a fool. I cannot concentrate.>
Zorish waits for Tamora to protest, but only silence and a vague sense of resentment comes from his host. Satisfied, Zorish returns to his ponderings. They must have left at least one person behind, he thinks to himself, running through a mental list of those who he knew of on board, Not any of the Yeerks. No Andalite would leave a Yeerk free to walk around on his ship. The Andalites then. The girl, perhaps. Yes, that made the most sense. Captain Ossanlin would want to protect the defenseless Andalite girl, to keep her out of harms way.
Alright, Zorish thinks, may as well get her attention.
"Oi!" Zorish cries, surprised by how loud his voice sounds in the bare room, "is someone going to come get me or not!?"