Next to the surveillance room was another door. Ax moved quickly toward it. He pushed on it. Just as I noticed the arrow taped to the wall above. BREAK ROOM, the arrow read.
The door opened. And there, directly in front of us, were four Hork-Bajir. Seated around a card table. Elbow blades hanging casually off the chairs. Tails slung back across the floor. Each held a hand of cards tightly in his claws. A single, unshaded lightbulb dangled from the ceiling.
Ax backed out instantly. The Hork-Bajir hadn’t noticed us.
I could feel the vibrations of Ax’s hearts hammering. My own heart was a machine gun.
The footsteps were now just yards away.
No choice. Back, into the security room. Hope the guard on duty there was still watching his screens. Hope we didn’t make a sound.
Ax spun, leaped; I slipped my hold, opened my wings, caught just enough air to keep from hitting the floor and followed Ax as he dived awkwardly beneath a steel table.
Too much noise! The guard had to hear us. Had to!
But no. Nothing. He still watched his screens. The enemy was out there, out somewhere in camera range. Not right here, in the same room.
The footsteps from the hallway followed us. Stopped. Four black boots, inches away. One pair was crusted with dried mud.
“See anything?” Muddy Boots asked the TV man.
“Nah. Thought I saw some kid heading round the back. Then I lost him.”
An acknowledging grunt from Clean Boots.
I wasn’t too worried these guys would get us. Ax’s tail was cocked and ready. The table would go flying and these two would be counting in base five before they could draw their weapons.
But that would cause an uproar. The Hork-Bajir would come running, and it wasn’t time for me to be captured. Not yet. Not till we knew where the secret entrance was.
Funny I should think that particular thing. The next words out of the guard’s mouth were, “Just left the entrance. Passed off my shift to Lacsar-Four-Fifty-Four.”
I was further forward than Ax. I could, by shifting ever so slightly, see the men. Two guys who looked like regular security guards. Except for the Dracon beams holstered in their belts.
“Any animals?” the TV man asked, never glancing away from the screens. He wasn’t mesmerized by the screens, I realized. He’d been ordered not to look away. On pain of death.
“We kicked a few dogs. Sprayed some bugs. Waste of time, you can’t keep every possible animal morph out of an open-air celebration. Could have told Visser Three that.”
“Yeah, you could have,” his partner, Clean Boots, said dryly. “And about three seconds later you’d be begging for your life.”
A rueful laugh. “Got that right. Anyway, I do have to see the sub-visser about … Ouch!”
“What is it?”
“Something stuck in my shoe …” He knelt down to unlace it. His profile suddenly so close we could see the stubble on his chin. The pores on his nose. There was no way! No way he wouldn’t notice us!
“Darn wood chips drive me crazy! Sharp like pins! I hate that lousy entrance shift,” he muttered. “Tromping around like I’m some human eight-year-old.”
The guard stood up, slipped off the shoe, and knocked it against the table leg, showering Ax with topsoil. And a wood chip. I breathed. Ax breathed.
They walked on. Past us and toward the wall of cameras, where a man sat, his back to us, monitoring the pictures.
“Hello, Chief,” they addressed him. “Come to give our reports.”
I said tersely.
He turned.
Of the fifty or so screens, nearly half pictured the same spot. All from different angles, so it wasn’t immediately obvious. But the more I focused the more I realized …
It took an hour for Ax and me to extricate ourselves and round up the others.
The big Yeerk-a-Thon was winding up. They were making closing speeches. The six of us were above and around the playground. While we’d watched, three people had crawled in through the kiddie tunnel. None had crawled out the far side.
It was a pretty elaborate structure, really. Two stories. Built of large posts maybe half the height of telephone poles. With a mesh net for climbing, a fireman’s pole, a wide metal slide. And intricate covered catwalks. Far cooler than anything I’d ever played on.
The playground itself was surrounded on two sides by trees, with an open playing field at the far end, and the community center wall defining the left side.
We’d spotted guards atop the community center, guards in the woods, guards pretending to sit idly on the bleachers behind the batting cage.
A least eight human-Controllers were watching the playground. A lot of security for a jungle gym at night.
A person was approaching, a man, feet crunching across the wood chips.
Jake said. He was in owl morph, with eyes that saw through the night like it was noon on a cloudless day. Jake whispered.
Cassie said.
Marco, Cassie, and Rachel had stayed in fly morph. They would try and enter the tunnel. And come back out again.
Ax was out of camera range behind some trees. He was standing between two guards, not twenty feet from either of them. Needless to say, he was standing very still.
Jake directed. His owl morph was better for this kind of night work. I could see the flies. Jake could SEE them.
I landed soundlessly on one of the jungle gym poles and perched still as a statue. I had seen the camera angles and knew where to be to stay out of view.
Tasset stooped and disappeared under the slide.
said Cassie.
Cassie and Marco flew behind Tasset. The cameras would never pick them up. But there might be other dangers. There were always other dangers.
Marco called.
I felt the featherlight touch of Rachel landing on my back and nestling down under the feathers.
I heard a faint cascade of beeps coming from below my perch.
Dee-deep.
Dee-dee-dee-dee.
Tasset moved out from under the slide and crouched to enter the adjoining concrete tunnel.
Marco joked in a Dracula voice.
The tunnel was large, like one of those big concrete sewer pipes. You couldn’t quite stand up in it, but you didn’t have to crawl, either.
Tasset was about to go in when two other Controllers poked their heads out of the tunnel. He backed up to let them pass. Which they did. Silently.
Jake said.
Ax spoke up for the first time.
Jake said tersely.
Marco said.
Rachel muttered. o not the time for your feeble attempts at being funny.>
Rachel always teases Marco. That was nothing new. But there was a deeper note of stress in her thought-speak voice.
Cassie said, surprised.
I heard a sound like a pneumatic pump, or a seal being broken, then a rush of air.
Psssst.
Woooooosh!
Two flies shot out the near end of the green tunnel, back to where they’d started.
Marco exulted.
Cassie said.
Jake ordered.
I heard a faint “Fwapp!” from the trees. Followed by a crumpling sound. A human would not have heard either noise.
Marco said. Then he laughed.
Rachel said.
Cassie said darkly.
I pointed out.
Rachel remarked, with growing excitement in her tone,
she said. Then she laughed self-consciously.
Marco said,
I said.
Nobody said anything. Everyone knew that’s what needed to happen. We’d discussed it. Planned it. It was just that none of us had ever willingly surrendered before.
Another Controller walked out of the community center and started across the wood chips, toward the slide.
Jake asked.
I said.
She feigned surprise at his question.
But I heard the struggle in her voice. She was masking concern. Why? Rachel never worried. At least not about herself.
she said softly in private thought-speak.
She paused.
I smiled inwardly. She was concerned about me. If I had been human … looking into Rachel’s eyes, feeling her next to me, I might have … But she was a fly on my hawk body. Which was good. I could keep my cool. A hawk’s feelings aren’t exactly visible to others.
I said simply. Then added,
Jake ordered.
An owl, silent as a ghost, flew overhead, swooping toward the community center building.
The Controller approached, ducked under the slide.
I heard the flickering LEDs.
Dee-deep. Dee-dee-dee-dee.
Rachel muttered.
The faint electronic chime met my ear just as a ripping gust of wind rose up and whistled through the jungle gym.
Sheeeewooooo.
A cold wind that ruffled my feathers and sent a chill down my spine. I lifted off. Powered my wings to gain altitude. A rope banged a hollow note on the metal flagpole. The leaves on the trees rustled and swished with the air. And the emcee’s voice from back at The Sharing’s celebration rang out above it all.
“Pride in our work … dedication to the task at hand … never, never ceasing. We will reach our goal.”
Thunderous applause.
The Controller disappeared from view, into the tunnel.
I yelled.
Ax erupted from hiding, galloping madly toward the tunnel.
I spilled air from my wings and fell into a dive, gaining speed every instant.
I yelled to Rachel.
We shot toward the earth. Aimed for the tunnel.
“Andalites!” a guard cried, startled.
Ax shot into the tunnel.
I veered a violent right, just a few feet from the playground. Into the tunnel. Insane! Too fast! No way to control my speed!
Wings and tail straining, straining, catching all the air I could catch, straining to absorb the energy of my own momentum.
A circle of white light. The silhouette of a man. An Andalite, bent low, tail whipping.
FWAPP!
The Controller dropped.
Man, Andalite, a circle of light, beeping panel, wings flapping, the grainy curved walls of the tunnel, all in millisecond flashes.
He shot away just as I blew into the tunnel, banked into a turn that nearly ripped the ligaments out of my wings, and shot through into the circle of light.
From outside a voice roared, almost hysterical. “Andalites!”
Ax cried.
Outside the lights of the playground were snapping on. Outside Ax, now clearly illuminated, was running for his life, pursued by all the guards.
That was the plan. Ax risking his life for no purpose but to make it all look real, to make it all seem as if I’d been trapped in the midst of a genuine attack.
Ax might die. For the sake of realistic drama.
The door slid closed.
Psssst. Click. I could feel it seal tightly shut.
Darkness. My eyes saw nothing. But I heard …
“Ahhhgggg-ggghhhha. Ahhhgggg-ggghhhha.”
My heart skipped a beat. I knew that sound. The throaty, heavy breathing of Yeerk-infested Hork-Bajir. Pumped up. Ready for action.
Rachel called.
I whispered.
Lights on!
Massive, spiky shapes. A wall of seething Hork-Bajir. Three dozen, maybe more. Waiting for me in the brightened passageway.
And a girl. A human. For a millisecond I thought … No, no, of course it wasn’t Rachel. This girl was a couple of years older. Tall, thin, blond. Sleek chinos, leather loafers. A knit top even Rachel would admire.
Preppy.
Supermodel.
Yeerk.
I was speechless.
“Only one of you? And in bird morph?” she sneered. “Oh, well,” she continued confidently. “With one in hand, we’ll soon catch the others.”
Chapman cleared his throat. I hadn’t even noticed him, standing there right next to her.
“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” he offered, smirking.
“Shut up, Chapman,” the girl said calmly. “You sound like some pun-spouting villain from a Batman movie.”
“Yes, ma’am. Excuse me, ma’am. I mean, sub-visser.”
Sub-visser?
She s
tared at me like she could see right into my mind. Like she knew who I was, what I was. And wanted to hurt me because of it. I swallowed hard.
Rachel was all energy.
Right! She was right.
I let out a screeching cry. More for effect than for anything else. Hoping to scare them. They shuffled a bit as I flapped up. And then, airborne, I lunged at the nearest monstrous mass.
“Galaash! Ahhh!”
My outstretched talons gouged his eyes. Wrist blades slashed the air around me.
The blade sliced an inch off my tail. I couldn’t steer. I struggled to compensate with wing angle, to circle back and strike again.
Whaack! Wummph!
Something hard hit my head. The sub-visser’s arm!
Rachel yelled.
I crumpled to the floor. Facedown in a heap. I tried to shake off the impact and raised my head from the stone. There was the sub-visser, standing over me. Her right arm gleaming a pearly, plastic white. Artificial! She’d struck me with an artificial arm.
“Didn’t think we’d be waiting for you, did you, Andalite?” she said coldly. “Well, here we are. Surprised? I hope so. I love surprises, don’t you?”
Chapman laughed appreciatively.
“Oh, did I forget to introduce myself?” She brought her hand to her cheek in a motion of mock surprise. “So sorry. I’m Sub-Visser Fifty-one. Second-in-command to Visser Three in this part of space. Call me Taylor.”
“Her host name,” Chapman explained.
“Shut up, Chapman!” she snarled and stamped her foot like any spoiled kid.
It was a bizarre performance. The usually glowering vice principal was fawning over a teenager from the pages of a J. Crew catalog.
“Nothing to say? Speechless?” Taylor taunted me. “Come on, I’ve always wanted to talk to an Andalite. Trade a little banter with the high-and-mighty self-appointed lords of the galaxy. Do you think by staying silent I’ll somehow be convinced you’re an actual bird?”
She laughed. “No, no, friend Andalite. We’ve seen the red-tailed hawk before, haven’t we? I said, haven’t we, Chapman?”