Applegate, K A - Andalite Chronicles 02 - Alloran's Choice Read online

  29

  I woke up.

  I was on my side, lying in the dirt.

  I looked up at a night sky. Stars, galaxies, three tiny moons.

  Where was I?

  I stood up. Every muscle in my body ached. Muscles I didn't even know I had ached. My hooves tasted nothing but bare dirt. My stalk eyes swiveled quickly to look around, but I realized one eye was blinded.

  Then I saw the ship, the Skrit Na transport. It was still more or less in one piece. I must have been able to land it. Somehow. I couldn't remember much of those last few minutes. It was all chaos in my brain.

  I forced myself to go over the facts. I was on the Taxxon home world. I was approximately four hundred miles from the spaceport. Loren and Chapman were in the hands of the Yeerks. Alloran ... no one knew.

  30 Arbron had tried to trick me into killing him. That's what I remembered best.

  «Arbron!» I called. «Arbron!»

  No answer. I trudged wearily over to the Skrit Na ship. I saw the two-foot hole made by the Dracon beam. And then I saw the way the engines had been ripped half off. The ship would never fly again.

  I climbed into the wreckage. My second stalk eye was starting to clear a little. I felt it and realized it had just been covered with mud.

  Inside the ship I called again. «Arbron!» I looked around. Nothing was working except a tiny glimmer of emergency lighting. For some reason the Skrit Na liked their emergency lighting to be green. Who knows why?

  Something was missing.

  Of course! The two Skrit cocoons. They must have been knocked loose.

  The door to the freight hold was blown open. I went in. The same green emergency lighting illuminated a bizarre scene. In the hold were boxes and crates piled in wild disarray. Many had broken open on impact. They spilled an amazing mass of alien-looking objects. Frozen, preserved animals; bundles of the artificial skin that Loren and Chapman wore; glass objects that seemed to contain liquids; odd, antiquated electronic equipment; small objects that

  31 looked like hundreds of rectangular sheets of paper glued together on one side; and a long crate of what I could almost swear were primitive weapons.

  All things that the Skrit Na had looted from Earth. Loren would know what they were, no doubt.

  But in addition to all the small objects, there were two much larger things. One was a shiny yellow-painted creation with four black wheels.

  The other object was the most powerful thing in the history of the galaxy.

  It looked like nothing more than a smooth, off-white sphere. It was perhaps ten feet in diameter. Perfectly smooth. Unmarked. You would never know what it was if you hadn't seen the power readings. Invisible to the eye, it spread its grid down through the very fabric of time-space.

  The Time Matrix.

  I found I had stopped breathing. I could barely imagine the power I was staring at. To move a ship into Zero-space took more power than a medium-sized star. To move anything through time took ten times that power. The power of ten suns. All somehow contained in that off-white sphere.

  «Arbron!» I yelled.

  But I knew he wasn't there. He must have been thrown clear of the ship, just as I had been. Only I hadn't seen him outside. And now it occurred to me

  32 that something else was missing, too. The active Skrit.

  Both Skrit cocoons and the active Skrit were gone. Along with Arbron.

  I turned slowly away from the Time Matrix. It had a hold over me. It drew my stalk eyes back to it, even as I walked away.

  I went back outside. «Arbron!»

  The light of the moons and stars was too dim to see clearly. But I had the impression I was in a narrow valley between tall, almost clifflike mountains. Where could Arbron have gotten to? Had he fallen from the doomed Skrit Na ship earlier? He could have ended up slamming into one of the mountainsides.

  I hated to even imagine that.

  I went back inside the cargo hold and picked up a handful of paper sheaves. Some were larger and had pictures. By the dim green light I instantly recognized that the pictures were of humans.

  I flipped through pictures of humans doing things I could not understand. But then there was one picture I understood immediately. It showed a marvelously tall waterfall. The waterfall crashed into a pool surrounded by trees, all of them green. Overhead was a blue sky.

  Two humans were smiling and sticking tiny white cylinders into their mouths.

  33 There was human writing beneath the picture. I don't read human very well. But I was sure it was a poem to the beauty revealed in the picture.

  The grass there looked sweet.

  It would be a fine thing to run there. To run with Loren and forget everything that had happened. Forget that I was alone on a planet of evil, my only companion probably dead, my prince lost.

  I turned to other pictures. I saw small, strange pictures of humans doing nothing but smiling. And there were pictures of human technology. A flying machine of some sort. Humans holding long rods that spit fire. What seemed to be hideous cities. And then, to my delight, a picture of an actual human spacecraft.

  It took me a few seconds to understand what it was. It seemed to be a chemical rocket. An actual chemical rocket!

  But the pictures that drew my gaze were the ones of beautiful beaches beside blue seas. And mountains topped with white. And rushing white-water streams surrounded by tall green trees.

  The trees were all very similar. Not as beautiful as the trees I knew. Still, the pictures spoke of a lovely world, filled with delicious green grass and cool water.

  That alien landscape of Earth took me away from the drab horror of the Taxxon world. I won-

  34 dered if Chapman might be from the jagged human cities. Was that why he was so much harsher than Loren? Was Loren from the beautiful green country where smiling humans stuck white cylinders in their mouths?

  I guess I fell asleep looking at that picture. I awoke with lingering traces of awful dreams chasing through my brain.

  There was light. . . natural light from the Tax-xon sun.

  I ran outside. As I had guessed, I was in an incredibly steep valley. And now I could see tracks in the orange dirt. The marks of dozens of needle-sharp legs. Taxxon tracks!

  The tracks came right up to the ship. Had they come while I was asleep? No. I could see my own tracks from the night before. My tracks were over the Taxxon tracks.

  Arbron! They were his tracks. Had to be. And yet. . . No, there had been more than one Taxxon. Three . . . four others. Five sets altogether.

  And then I saw two additional signs. A set of wandering, insectlike tracks, and the evidence of something large being dragged away.

  «The Skrit,» I said. «Okay. So Taxxons came. They took Arbron away. And the Skrit. And maybe the two cocooned Skrit»

  I glanced at the spot where I'd been lying un-

  35 conscious. They had to have seen me, smelled me. And yet I was stiil aiive.

  «They have Arbron,» ! realized.

  I reeled back and fell down. The Taxxons had taken Arbron. I knew what Taxxons did with prisoners.

  «No!» What had ! done? I'd let them take Arbron alive!

  And yet why hadn't they taken me? And the Time Matrix? Surely Taxxon-Controllers would not have done that.

  ! recalled Sub-Visser Seven's reference to Mountain Taxxons - Taxxons who refused to submit to Yeerk control. And I felt just the faintest glimmer of hope. If these had been Yeerk-controlled Taxxons, they'd have taken the Time Matrix. And me.

  «What am I supposed to do now?» I asked the empty, dusty sky.

  Should I try to follow the tracks to Arbron? No. I had to be logical. Whatever type of Taxxon he'd fallen in with, their hunger would almost certainly seal his doom. And the doom of the poor Skrit Na, too.

  Alloran might still be alive. He was my prince. My duty was to get back to him. Tell him about the Time Matrix and Arbron. Somehow. But the Taxxon spaceport was hundreds of miles away, across burning sands.

  36
Then . . . one of the human pictures I'd seen came back to me. It had shown two smiling humans sitting in something very much like the bright yellow machine in the cargo hold.

  I went back to the ship. Yes, this bright yellow machine had four wheels. And you could easily see how humans might sit in it. It had a name in chrome letters: "Mustang." Naturally, I had no idea what that meant.

  I set to work enlarging the hole in the side of the cargo hold. Then I removed the chairs in the machine. I discovered that I could fit inside the machine if I removed the flimsy cloth top. I stared long and hard at the control panel. The computer was tiny and had knobs you could twist. But at first all it did was make static noises.

  Then I discovered an actual tape drive! Astound-ingly primitive. I pushed the buttons on the small keypad and twisted the knobs again, and to my utter amazement, the computer began to play music.

  "I can't get no ... satisfaction!" it screamed.

  I quickly turned it down. What kind of race would use a computer to play screaming sounds?

  It took twenty minutes more for me to realize that a notched brass insert could be twisted. And when I twisted it...

  RRRR RRRRR RRRRRRRR PUH PUH PUH VROOOOM!

  37 The noise was amazing!

  It was an actual chemical engine! Something from a thousand years ago! Ridiculously primitive, and yet I found when I pressed my forehoof on a pedal in the floor, the engine roared.

  VVVRRRRROOOOM! VVVRROOOOOM! VVVROOOOOOM!

  It was primitive, all right. But it vibrated in a most satisfying way. And I liked it.

  38 ! have run mag-hover trucks.

  I have flown Bug fighters.

  i have fiown Skrit Na raiders at three thousand miles per hour in atmosphere.

  But I had never experienced anything more exhilarating than racing down the valiey and out across the open Taxxon desert in my Mustang. It only went a hundred miles per hour, but with the wind in your face, whipping your fur, bending your stalk eyes back, it was certainly a wild ride.

  But everything was going wrong.

  ! was racing across the Taxxon desert in a human vehicle toward probable doom. But with the wind in my face, and the music in my ears mingling with the loud roar of the engine, I didn't feel so badly.

  I had gathered up some of the other human objects the Skrit Na had taken. The writing sheets with pictures. Some of the machines that looked like weapons. And some of the glass bottles containing liquid.

  I broke several of the bottles before I figured out

  39 how to open them. After that, I quickly determined that they contained water-based liquids. I poured the liquids into a shallow pan, and was able to stick in one hoof to drink as I drove.

  dr. pepper, the bottles had said. I figured that was human writing for "bubbling brown water."

  For a while I just put Arbron out of my mind. I put Alloran out of my mind. And I pictured myself with Loren, driving in my Mustang across the green grass of Earth. Wind in my face. Bubbling brown water running up my hoof.

  As I drove, I tried to come up with a plan. One thing was for sure: An Andalite in a Mustang was going to be just slightly obvious. I would need stealth. But I would not morph to Taxxon again.

  Not ever.

  That's when the ground beneath my wheels simply opened up.

  FFFFWWWUUUMMPPP!

  «Aaaaahhhh!»

  BOOM! BOOM! RUMBLERUMBLERUMBLE!

  The Mustang tumbled and rattled down a steep, rough slope. A dirt ramp that led straight down into darkness.

  «Aaaaahhhh!»

  I took my hoof off the accelerator pedal. I tried to reach the key to turn off the engine. But the vibration was too severe.

  40 I slid and rattled and rolled in my human machine, down, down, down into the ground. Down and down. And then I slid to a halt.

  SCRRUUMMPPFFF!

  The only sound was the noise of the engine and the weird human moaning that passed for music.

  "... gimme, gimme, gimme the honky-tonk blues!"

  I turned off the music.

  I was in darkness, but not the absolute darkness I expected. This darkness still afforded sight. There was light enough for my main eyes to see, after they'd had a few seconds to adjust.

  I was in a vast underground cavern. Dominating the center of the cavern was a sort of hill or small mountain. It was this mountain that glowed. It glowed a dim but unmistakable red.

  From this irregular glowing hill came tendrils, each perhaps three or four feet in diameter. As my eyes adjusted I could see that there were a dozen or more of these tendrils, and that each one extended to the edge of the cavern and then kept going into the rock itself.

  The tendrils, too, glowed a dim red. I realized that I could see things moving inside the tendrils. The tendrils were hollow! They were tubes, each about as big around as ...

  41 As aTaxxon!

  I saw them then. My eyes finally pierced the darkness and saw the Taxxons! Dozens... no, hundreds! They swarmed around and over the glowing red mountain.

  As I watched, I saw holes open in the sides of the tunnel-tendrils. Out crawled more Taxxons.

  They had to see me. They couldn't help but see me. And yet none moved to attack me.

  Instead, they busied themselves pushing dirt and rock back into place to fill the space my Mustang had created.

  «IS THIS THE CREATURE?»

  «Aaaarrrrggghh!» I screamed.

  The voice in my head was huge! Massive! I grabbed my head with my hands. It was like hearing a planet speak! It was only then, as I staggered under the psychic blow, that I realized it: The red mountain was alive!

  I heard a different thought-speak voice. «Yes. That's himF» Arbron said. «He is called Elfangor.»

  One Taxxon came slithering toward me out of the mass of bodies around the base of the red mountain. It moved clumsily. Two rows of legs were shorter than the others.

  «Arbron?»

  «Yes, Elfangor. It's me.»

  42 «l was afraid you were dead,» I said.

  «l wanted to be. But I am still alive. Alive to serve the Living Hive.»

  «The what?»

  He waved one Taxxon claw back toward the massive, glowing mountain. «The Living Hive. Light of the Taxxons. Mother and Father of the Taxxons. The Hive has lost many of its children to the Yeerks. Many of its servants have betrayed the Hive and made an alliance with the Yeerks. But the Living Hive is still the Mother and Father of the species.»

  «Arbron, what are you talking about? Have they done something to you?»

  Then he laughed - the old Arbron again, for just a moment. «Have they done something to me? Well, they didn't eat me, if that's what you mean. The Taxxons who found us after we crashed wanted to eat us both. But I gave them the Skrit instead. I had no choice! And then the Living Hive learned what I was. It drew me here.»

  «We're hundreds of miles from where we landed. How did you get here? You couldn't possibly have walked.»

  «The Living Hive's tunnels extend across thousands of miles, Elfangor. There is suction in the tunnels. A Taxxon has only to fold back its legs, and the pressure draws it swiftly down the tunnel, as the Hive commands.»

  43 «The legs I... the legs you were missing. They're growing back.»

  «Yes. Taxxons can regenerate legs.»

  «Arbron . . . what's going on? It wasn't an accident that the ground opened up beneath me. Did the . . . the Living Hive want me here for some reason?»

  «Yes, Elfangor. The Hive is angry.»

  «At me?» I asked, feeling my guts turn over several times. If this glowing red mountain was mad at me, all it had to do was yell in its monstrous psychic voice and I'd be shattered.

  «The Living Hive is tired of losing its children to the Yeerks. The Living Hive has long sought a way to destroy the Yeerk invaders and remove them from this planet. But the Hive could not understand the Yeerks and their machines. Now . . . now, the Hive has an adviser. Someone who understands machines, spaceships, Dracon beams. Someone who
will help the Hive destroy the Yeerks and their traitor Taxxons.»

  I stared at Arbron. «You?»

  He laughed. But this time there was no mirth. «What better future could I have, Elfangor? I am Taxxon now. And now I am preparing for a surprise attack on the spaceport. The Hive will send a thousand of her children with me. I will lead a Taxxon rebellions

  44 I didn't say anything. What was there to say? My hearts were breaking.

  Arbron slithered closer, shuffling on his needle-like legs. He looked at me through red jelly eyes. And even now, I knew he seethed with raging Taxxon hunger.

  «Don't pity me, Elfangor. I am glad I didn't die. Any life is better than none. And no matter how awful things seem, there is always meaning and purpose to be found.»

  «And you've found your purpose?»

  «We attack tonight. The Living Hive is pushing her tunnels closer to the spaceport. A thousand Taxxons will pour from the ground, surprising the Yeerks and all their creatures.»

  I imagined that moment. A thousand huge, hungry worms, erupting amid the technological cathedrals of the ship's cradles. Erupting amidst Taxxon-Controllers and Hork-Bajir-Controllers.

  «You'll lose,» I said.

  «We know,» Arbron said. «But even a Taxxon has the right to control its own planet. Even a Taxxon has the right to resist an invader.»

  «But you can't win,» I said flatly.

  «Aren't lost causes sometimes the best causes, Elfangor?»

  How could he imagine that anything to do with Taxxons could ever be a good cause? These Taxxons

  45 were no less cannibalistic. No less murderous. And yet, if they opposed the Yeerks, could I refuse to offer that help?

  «Tell me what I can do to help, Arbron.» «That's more like it, Elfangor. We'll put some tail blades into these Yeerks, right? Right? We'll be heroes, after all.»

  46 All that afternoon I stayed in the horrible, reeking, stifling darkness of that underground cavern.

  Arbron was there some of the time. But not often. Mostly he was communing with the Living Hive. Making plans.

  Arbron had become a general. He was just what the Living Hive needed. He could explain what the Taxxons would find when they erupted into the spaceport. He could explain how to hurt the Yeerks.

  I don't know if he told the Hive how hopeless the task was. I only know that he seemed very alive. Almost on fire.