The Hork-Bajir Chronicles

  "You are really Aldrea?"

  «Yes, Dak.»

  "Then, come. I will show you my world."

  We raced up the tree with Dak in the lead. A hundred feet, two hundred feet, three hundred feet. The valley wall was a hundred feet away now, but always still there.

  Higher and higher we went, and yet there remained this bizarre fact that the ground was not so much below us as it was beside us. In the other direction, however, away from the valley wall, there were only trees.

  "Follow me!" Dak cried. He swung easily from the trunk onto a massive branch that grew toward the valley center.

  My little chadoo legs scrabbled to keep up. I raced along the branch. Now I was far, far above the ground, because while it sloped up behind us, it

  43 sloped down before us. With each few dozen steps along the branch, I was another ten feet above the ground.

  I was beginning to get a glimpse past the trees out into clear air. But we had only begun our wild climb.

  We reached the end of the branch. It was so narrow now that I had to hold on by wrapping my stubby legs around and beneath the branch.

  "See that treetop?" Dak asked, pointing. "We go that way."

  «How?»

  "You are a chadoo, yes? The chadoo knows."

  And with that, Dak squatted low, coiling his powerful leg muscles, and leaped into space. He bounced the branch. Down ten feet, up ten, down twenty feet, up twenty, down thirty and up ... at the top of the arc, he leaped!

  He soared and fell, and with a wild grab of his right claw, snagged the top of the next tree.

  One claw-hand wrapped around the crown of the tree, and he swung around it, not once, but twice, three times, four times! The crown bent way over from his weight, but it did not break.

  It was the most thrilling thing I'd seen before or since. The wild glee of the young Hork-Bajir, swinging madly, five hundred feet above the sloping ground. Swinging and laughing, and then, my

  43

  M

  44 hearts ? I mean my heart, because the chadoo only has one ? stopped.

  Dak released and fell from sight!

  I raced to the end of the branch, trusting the chadoo to know what to do. It did. I ran, simply ran, no jumping, no leaping, straight off the end of the branch. Ran straight into the air.

  My four feet pushed out, stretching the skin flaps. I felt the wind beneath me, felt it ruffle up into my feathers, felt it fill the skin flaps.

  I had lift! I was not merely falling. I could turn my blunt head and change direction. I could raise or lower a leg and change direction even more quickly. I glided along a curved path toward the treetop that still quivered from snapping back.

  My thin, strong arms reached and grabbed the tree crown. I swung once around, and down below me, on yet another tree branch, I saw Dak. He was looking up and grinning ? a thing Hork-Bajir do with their mouths.

  I released and glided down to him.

  From then on it was a game. Dak led the way and I followed. A wild, insane romp, leaping across the void, snatching branches from midair, scampering, leaping again.

  But always Dak led the way. Tree to tree, along a path he knew as well as I know my own meadow back on the home world.

  45 The trees were changing. The bark became thicker, the treetops higher and higher. At last we reached a tree that made every other tree look like a bush.

  From the base of its downhill side to the crown, it was two thousand, one hundred and nineteen feet high. My mother measured it for me days later. I didn't tell her why.

  It was almost half a mile tall.

  "That is the Tribe Tree," Dak said. "The tree of my people. That is where the elders meet."

  I peered at the tree and could see, here and there, platforms, hundreds, thousands of feet up. There were Hork-Bajir there, milling around. The more I looked, the more platforms I saw and the more elaborate they were. Up and up, far over our heads, the platforms twined around the Tribe Tree.

  There were hundreds of Hork-Bajir in the tree. Not stripping the bark, but stacking bark carried in by a steady stream of Hork-Bajir.

  "Come," Dak said. We raced and leaped and soon I was clinging to the bark of the Tribe Tree itself. Clinging and climbing. Up and up.

  «Remember, don't tell your fellow Hork-Bajir who and what I am,» I said.

  "They would not understand if I told them," Dak said simply.

  46 We climbed forever. We climbed till I could not imagine that there was still more tree above us. We passed platforms where Hork-Bajir ground up bark. Where they cut bark into strips. Where they bundled bark with string-vines.

  And there were other platforms where Hork-Bajir simply sat and seemed to be telling stories. Almost like classrooms, I realized.

  Slowly we emerged from the surrounding trees. We climbed till I could see clearly out over the void, across to the far side of the valley. We climbed till I could glimpse the lip of the valley behind us.

  Down below, what seemed a million miles below, I saw the toxic blue at the very bottom of the valley. What the Hork-Bajir call "Father Deep."

  There was a narrow platform built at the very top of the Tribe Tree. I went up onto it.

  «l've been in morph for a long time,» I said. «l have to change back for a while.»

  I began to demorph. And a few minutes later, I stood on my own four hooves where no Andalite could ever possibly belong.

  With my own proper Andalite eyes I could see in every direction at once. I saw the sheer valley wall behind, the endless trees spreading left and right, the far side of the valley, many miles away. The sky, not as red and gold as it should have been, spread above us, dwarfing the valley. And down below, so

  47 far down that I felt nauseated by the drop, I saw a slice of the terrifying "Deep."

  I don't know why, but the Deep drew my gaze, even more than the stunning, magnificent vista all around me.

  I looked down at the Deep. I looked away and then back down. Near the edge, the trees disappeared, replaced by eerily colored plants in twisted shapes.

  «Dak. What is in the Deep?»

  He looked at me as if I'd been reading his mind. "I don't know," he admitted. "I only know what my people say."

  «What do your people say is in the Deep?»

  "Terror," he said simply. "They say that terror is in the Deep."

  48

  It didn't take long for me to become the reigning expert on Andalites. No one else cared. But I was fascinated.

  I had "seen" only for a few moments through the Gedd's eyes. But I could try to imagine the life of a four-eyed Andalite. I had to stretch my imagination to picture what it was like to run. To live most of your life directly under the sun and the stars, with only a transparent atmosphere to protect you.

  How can a Yeerk, used to the warm intimacy of the Yeerk pool, truly understand what it is like to have four legs, to run, to see, to feel, to manipulate objects at will with delicate, precise hands? To have a deadly tail?

  It's not possible. Not really. But I came closer to understanding than anyone else in the pool. I inserted my palps into the computer interface and I read with virtual eyes. And I used that computer

  49 simulation of sight to watch, again and again, every stored visual image, still or moving.

  Slowly, slowly, I began to understand my enemy. To understand their impressive strengths. But also to see their weaknesses.

  The Andalites might have been the dominant species in this arm of the galaxy. But they were not invincible.

  Months went by, and slowly the memory of those few amazing moments in the Gedd faded. Others were called to assume hosts. I was not.

  But then it happened. Palp to palp, the message came to me. Esplin 9466 to the infestation pier! There was a new species to try. After failures with the Hawjabrans and only the few Ongachics, our wandering assemblage of spacecraft had found a new planet. With new creatures.

  Three had been seized from the surface and brought aboard. One was for me.
r />   I was not briefed. I was not given any explanation. I was simply to swim to the infestation pier and wait.

  I waited, desperate to control my own excitement. A host! Any host, so long as it had eyes!

  Suddenly, I felt the splash as the head was thrust beneath the surface. My senses felt for and found the ear opening. I rushed, afraid that I might fail

  50 somehow, afraid this chance would be taken from me.

  Instantly I knew this creature was very different from a Gedd. Entry was much easier. The ear canal was large and unobstructed. I released my toxins to numb and dilate the ear, but I wondered if it was even necessary.

  I slithered and squeezed till my palps touched the brain. Ah! Very different from the Gedd brain. The brain was divided into lobes, two fairly smooth, one deeply wrinkled. I sank myself into the wrinkles, into the cracks between the lobes. And then I tied in to the brain.

  It was not the shock of that first infestation, but it was a revelation!

  Hearing was excellent. The sense of smell was almost as good as my own. I opened the eyes.

  Ahhh! I cried silently. I had thought the Gedd's vision was all that vision could be. But this creature's eyes were wonderful. The colors so vivid. The lines so clear. I could see depth with amazing precision.

  I looked around at the room. Once again, I saw the limited, narrow Yeerk pool that was my whole universe. But my eyes were drawn not to the ship around me, but to my new, personal ship: this body.

  One thing was instantly apparent: This was no Gedd. This was no Hawjabran or Ongachic. This

  51 body reminded me of the Andalite bodies. It would be fast. It would be powerful. It would be ...

  Dangerous.

  I opened the creature's memory, looking for its own pictures of its life. I wanted to know what it could do.

  I felt a resistance. A mind within the brain. Stronger than the tired, beaten Gedd. This creature was attempting to fight me!

  There was only one possible response.

  Total and complete control.

  Get out! Get out! the creature screamed in silence.

  «Scream all you like,» I sneered. «You belong to me now.»

  The creature's mind began to race, searching for some way to stop me. But, of course, there was none. It threatened. It cried. It begged. I felt its desperation, its panic, its fear. And I laughed at the feeble attempt to throw me off.

  «Threaten me?» I said, mind to mind. «What will you do? Your body is mine now! Your eyes are mine! Your limbs are mine!»

  I was giddy. I was in a state of ecstasy! I could crush this mind with ease. It was sad, almost, how easily I defeated the creature. It was feeble compared to me. It had no power to throw me off. No power to retain control.

  52 I opened the creature's memory and looked. At first the images were wild, insane, inexplicable. But then the context became clearer. I used more of the memories to get a better understanding.

  I saw the world of the creature through its own eyes. I saw its fellows. Its friends. I saw its life . . .

  Stripping bark for food. Leaping through the tall trees. Sitting at night and telling stories handed down from generation to generation.

  "Well, Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six, rrrr-whatdo you-rrr think?"

  It took a moment for me to make sense of the sounds. I listened to see if I could find the source of the sound. And then, it occurred to me: I could use the sense of sight. I could use sight and sound together to pinpoint the source of the sound.

  I looked. I moved my eyes and looked again.

  Two Gedds stood nearby. I knew that one was Janath 429, a very old Yeerk, and very wise. The other was Akdor 1154. It was Akdor who had led the uprising against the Andalites.

  It was Akdor who had first understood the concept of using a host body to act as a predator. It was Akdor who had personally killed four of the Andalite scum.

  Akdor moved his Gedd mouthparts and spoke.

  "I rrr-asked rrr-whatyou think. You study-rrrthe

  53 rrr-Andalites. Can this body be rrrrr-used to fight the Andalites?"

  It was Galard, the new language we had learned from the Ongachic hosts. It is the common inter-galactic language. The Yeerk language was impossible to speak with Gedd mouths. Even Galard came out distorted.

  I lowered my eyes and looked down at the body I now owned. I saw blades in several locations. Blades that were used for stripping the edible bark from trees.

  It was all so new. So new to all of us. We didn't know anything about the galaxy then.

  But I tried to imagine. I saw an Andalite. I pictured this new creature. I placed them together in my imagination. It was hard. Hard to imagine with sight.

  "Yes," I said in a harsh, guttural voice. "These creatures will be our weapons."

  Akdor and Janath stared at me.

  "Then rrrr-we will take this-rrrr species," Akdor announced. "We will make them ourrrrrs. This rrr-planet is wherrrre we make ourrr stand! On this planet rrr-we will build the foundations of a true Yeerrrrk empirrrre!"

  I was there. Do you understand what this moment was, what it meant? I was there when Akdor announced the birth of the Yeerk Empire.

  54 "So, what arrre these crrrreatures called?" Janath asked me.

  I was surprised. Neither Akdor nor Janath knew the name of the species whose doom they had pronounced.

  I searched my new memory, ignoring the pitiful, wailing cries that came from the shadow of the creature himself.

  "They call themselves Hork-Bajir, Akdor. Hork-Bajir."

  55

  DAK HAMCT

  «What is that sound?» Aldrea asked. «l have heard it before. Always at this time of night»

  "It is the Speaking Trees," I said.

  It was seven weeks since Aldrea had become a chadoo for the first time. Since then she had done it again, more than once. But this night she was An-dalite.

  I liked it best when she was Andalite. I could not care about a chadoo. I did care about Aldrea, the Andalite. She had taught me. She had shown me an entire universe unknown to my people.

  I was still greedy for knowledge, but Aldrea had begun to say that I knew all she knew. Was this true? It didn't matter. I needed Aldrea the way the leaves need Mother Sky. There was no one else for me to talk to.

  In many ways, I was no longer Hork-Bajir. But when we were together and I looked at her delicate shape, I knew that I was not Andalite, either.

  56 «Your trees have the gift of communication, like Andalite trees?» she asked.

  "No," I said, smiling. Aldrea had said that Andalite trees could speak in a way. Guide trees: Gari-bahs. But I was not sure I believed it. Our trees did not speak. "We call it the language of the trees, but it is only what we Hork-Bajir use as our primitive communicators. At night the great sound speaks from across the valley. It is how we speak with our brothers and sisters of the other two tribes in the valley. The sound is made by stretched vines. The vine is soaked in rain. Then it is stretched tight, vertically, between high branches and low branches.

  "Three of these vines are strung this way, all in one chosen tree. The tree must be a very old Nawin tree, for Nawin trees become hollow with age. One vine must be ten times the height of a Hork-Bajir. The second must be seven heights. The smallest five heights.

  "Two Hork-Bajir climb out on branches and hold a long, straight sapling. This sapling is drawn across the vine, creating a deep sound."

  «Resonance,» Aldrea said. «lt's almost a type of musio

  "Yes. Sad music tonight," I said. "It is the southern tribe. They tell us that three of their people have been taken to Father Deep."

  57 I listened some more to the low, long, sad notes that vibrated around the valley, echoing from the walls.

  "They say that Father Deep has created new monsters. They are ... small. That's strange. The monsters of the Deep are always larger than us. Yet these were small. Two legs. . . long arms . . . yellow eyes."

  Suddenly I felt Aldrea's hand grab my arm above the wrist blad
e. It was not the first time she had touched me. Usually, I enjoyed the fact that she would grab me for balance, or playfully slap me in pretended upset, or take my hand as we watched the sun turn red. But this was different.

  «Can you ask them a question?» Aldrea said. Her thought-speak voice was intense.

  "Yes. But as you can see, this system is primitive. Not like an Andalite would make."

  «Dak, your people have their own strengths,» Aldrea said. «Ask them about these "monsters." Ask them . . . ask them whether these monsters moved in a clumsy, unbalanced way when they walked. »

  I hesitated for a moment. My people had accepted that I was a seer. But I was still young. It was not for me to ask those of the Speaking Tree to transmit messages.

  But Aldrea seemed determined. Upset. Or as up-

  58 set as an Andalite ever becomes. They are not an emotional people.

  So I turned and cried into the darkness, shouting toward the Speaking Tree. And a moment later, the much louder, closer sound of our own Speaking Tree rang out, a deep, mournful sound that echoed down the valley.

  "What is it that you fear, Aldrea?" I asked her.

  «l'm not sure,» she said.

  "You do not know if your fear is realized, Aldrea," I pointed out. "But you know what your fear is."

  Aldrea laughed. «You keep surprising me, Dak. Every day you're sharper, smarter. You learn so quickly! Your use of language, your perception . . . It's incredible. You could enroll in any Andalite academy tomorrow and ?»

  "Thank you," I interrupted her. "I have learned from you. I have even learned to recognize when someone is trying to avoid answering a question."

  Aldrea formed the strange Andalite smile with her eyes. «l deserved that. Since you ask, I will tell you. What I'm afraid of is ?»

  But just then the answer was coming from the southern tribe.

  "They say these monsters walked in a strange way. As if their legs were different sizes," I translated.

  59 The smile disappeared from Aldrea's eyes. «They arer» she said. «Their legs are different lengths. We never could figure out why they evolved that way.»