Applegate, K A - Animorphs 33 - The Illusion Read online

  And then I recognized the Andalite mind.

  Yes, it was all the things I'd imagined it would be. Confident. Alert. Poised for combat.

  But there was another element that took me off guard. Something bubbling happily away beneath the rationality. Nothing giddy like a dolphin's playfulness. Something less simple.

  35 Optimism. That was it. Intense optimism.

  «Man! I had no idea.» I turned my head toward Ax. His eyes were smiling, the way they do.

  «Keep in mind that you are experiencing instinct. The Andalite mind in its untrained state. Our culture teaches us to temper and control our optimism, to give equal value to realism. We have become, regrettably, a race of warriors. But that is in response to necessity. Down deeper, beneath that, I believe we are a peaceful species, in love with learning, not combat. But to learn - and to fight - you must be joyful. I think an ancient Andalite inscribed that on a shormitor.»

  Ax whipped his tail blade through the air.

  Fwapp!

  «Shormitor?»

  «Tail-blade carvings. Made by early An-dalites. Mostly in the rocky outcroppings on the shores of the Elupera. We toured them once when I was much younger.»

  «Ah.»

  «ln fact, it was on shormitors of the Elupera that I learned the early tail-fighting masters spent a lifetime trying to cultivate and listen to instinct. Trying to forget what culture had taught them. Let the innate defense mechanism kick in, as you humans say. You should have a natural advantage in this regard, Tobias,» Ax said as he

  36 swung his tail in a figure eight, stopping just a centimeter short of the tree trunk. «That's not to say there aren't many maneuvers to be learned.»

  I flexed the massive muscle that was my tail. I was tentative. I imitated the figure-eight exercise Ax was doing.

  «l will teach you something,» Ax said, backing up. «A move I rely on frequently. The torf. You begin a common strike and then, millimeters before impact, twist your blade to the side, so that only the flat of the blade connects with the target. It won't do much to a Hork-Bajir, but it will knock a human unconscious. We will use this trunk as a target.»

  Ax repeated the move in slow motion for me to see. But I wasn't paying complete attention. I could see in all directions at once. Front, back, left, right. At the same time!

  «lt is your turn.» Ax motioned to me.

  I neared the tree, centered myself, and shifted my weight to my hind legs as Ax had.

  «Now!» Ax yelled.

  I let it rip. My tail hurtled toward the trunk.

  FWAPP!

  «Ahhh! Oh! Ouch! Ax?!»

  «Yes, Tobias. You have impaled the tree with the tip of your blade. That is not the desired results

  «Yeah, I sorta guessed that.»

  37 I yanked and twisted. I couldn't free my blade.

  «You struck with impressive velocity,» Ax observed. «That, at least, is admirable.»

  «Yeah, great. You know you're a warrior when you take down a tree. And can't get your blade back.»

  Ax grabbed my arms and leaned back. After a few seconds, «Ahhh!» Ax pulled so hard that when my tail came free, I rammed into him and sent us both tumbling down.

  «Ahhhhhh!»

  We landed in a heap. Eight legs tangled.

  «l should have let you familiarize yourself with the Andalite body before suggesting tail-blade practice. We will refresh ourselves with a drink, and perform the evening ritual.»

  We walked over to a nearby stream. Ax stuck a hoof in. So did I. I waited to see what I should do next. It was so pleasant, this cool, gurgling brook. So refreshing. So satisfying.

  «Ax, this is very, very cool.»

  Wait. What? I was drinking! I looked at my hoof. It looked normal. But the thirst in my ... in my legs was being quenched. It was amazing. It was also a little creepy.

  The very last glimmer of color was disappearing from the sky, absorbed by the mysterious indigo of night.

  38 «Look to the last bit of orange,» Ax said. «That's how the ritual begins.»

  I stopped drinking and turned all eyes on the stripe of color.

  «From the rising of the sun to the setting, to its rising again,» Ax said, «we place what is hard to endure with what is sweet to remember, and find peace.»

  He stopped.

  «That's it?»

  «That is it.»

  «l like it.»

  «Me too

  39 Saturday night. The grandest night of The Sharing's giant publicity gala.

  I cruised over town, skimming above the neon McDonald's signs and telephone poles and car headlights, toward the new community center.

  Faint at first, then more definite, came sounds from the celebration. Voices filtered through night air. Jaunty strains of a jazz band, Shrieks and giggles from the younger members. And above it all --over the acoustic wash that grew more insistent the nearer I got - boomed a deep, formal voice.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Good evening . . ."

  Tall, white tents reached up into my airspace.

  40 Spotlights crisscrossed the sky. Stage lights illuminated the podium and the blue-suited master of ceremonies below. Round, white-clothed tables dotted the grass.

  «Jake, Ax, I'm here,» I called down into the crowd. As long as I stayed clear of the spotlights, I knew I could fly fairly low without being seen. Even so, I kept a sharp eye on the human-Controller security guards who lined the perimeter.

  I caught sight of Jake. In a dress shirt and tie, seated at a banquet table next to Tom, his dad, and his mom.

  «You look extremely uncomfortable,» I said in thought-speak.

  He couldn't answer me. But he rolled his eyes in agreement, then turned his head to the right and nodded toward the buffet table.

  "That's three!" somebody exclaimed.

  "Is he getting another one?"

  The shouts were coming from the end, where an elderly man stood next to a cotton candy cart, surrounded by children.

  "Son, I just don't think it's safe to give you any more. Where are your parents?"

  I circled around, trying to see what Jake wanted me to notice. Trying to stay up, out of the lights.

  There was Ax, in human morph. Wisps of pink

  41 cotton candy streaked his hair, hung from his chin like a ghostly beard, and blew from his fingers as he forced his way to the front of the line.

  I laughed. Ax with a human mouth is dangerous. Andalites have only a vestigial sense of taste. Nothing like the explosive sensory overload from the human mouth.

  I looked back at Jake. He was shaking his head slightly, like an exasperated, but amused, parent.

  «Ax-man! It's Tobias. You've got to get control of your morph. Right now. You can't make a scene.»

  «Tobias?» Ax wondered in thought-speak. «0h, Tobias! This cloud candy is superb. It is otherworldly. The way it melts on the tongue. It has mass, yet it is weightless . . .»

  «0h, boy. Ax, where are the others? You're supposed to be helping me guide them. They're in fly morph, don't forget. They can smell dog poop and see about six inches, and that's it.»

  "Friends . . ." the man at the podium continued. "Three words encapsulate The Sharing's appeal: Opportunity. Involvement. Dedication. Change. Hmm, that's four." There was a slight pause and feedback hum as he thought that one over. "But then, that's just like The Sharing, isn't it? Exceeding expectations." The crowd cheered approval. "Tonight we honor members who em-

  42 body these words. Who, with their achievement, keep our organization running on course . . ."

  «Help! Help!» Marco sputtered. Then added a violent, «Ax!»

  «Marco?» I cried. «Marco, you in fly morph?»

  «Chocolate-covered, man. I'm in the chocolate fondue and they've turned up the heat! Buffet table! Buffet table! I can't get out!»

  «Fondue?» Ax asked.

  «A warm pot of chocolate. Liquid. Brown.» I couldn't think of how to describe it. From fifty feet up I scanned the buffet table. M
arco was black against dark brown. I could barely see him at this distance.

  «Marco, what exactly are you doing in the fondue?» Rachel asked.

  «Exactly? Well ... I wanted to see if it would still taste good sucked up through a fly mouth. You gonna help me or do you just want to bust me?»

  «Let him get eaten,» Rachel advised.

  Ax moved toward the chocolate fondue. A fly buzzed out of his cotton candy beard. This fly was more easily visible: black against pink.

  «Rachel? Is that you?» I called down.

  «Could be, how would I know what fly you're looking at? I was just in the middle of this big cloud, sticky and sweet and . . . Where's Cassie?

  43 Where's Ax? Man! Five minutes in and we're all messed up.»

  «l'm fine,» Cassie said. «At least, I think I am.»

  «0kay, that is you, Rachel, just follow the cotton candy. It's Ax. The sticky cloud.»

  «ls there some reason you think I'm not fine?» Cassie pressed, anxious now.

  «Cotton candy?» Rachel said. «Huh? What is he doing eating cotton . . . Oh, never mind.»

  "This year's highest honor goes to a young man who moved swiftly to the top of our ranks," the emcee intoned. "A devoted member of our community." Applause thundered through the crowd. Tom rose from his chair and accepted a plaque.

  «What do you see? What's the matter?» Cassie demanded.

  «Nothing, Cassie. Tom's getting his award,» I reported. «Ax-man. Careful grabbing Marco. Cassie? Are you near Jake?»

  Naturally Jake heard all this, since we'd included him in our thought-speak. He was fidgeting. Nervous. Looking like he was about to jump out of his chair and run for the fondue. Or maybe just for the exit.

  Then I saw Jake's eyes roll up toward the sky in what could only be an expression of "Why

  45 me?" I glanced back at Ax to see what had upset Jake. The Andalite was wearing a pink, cotton candy beard and had his hand immersed in the chocolate fondue. The chocolate was up to his wrist.

  He pulled his hand out, held it up in front of his face like he'd just discovered it was made out of gold, then began licking his fingers.

  44

  «Ax! Ax! You'll eat Marco!»

  «He will?» Marco shrilled. «What do you mean, he'll eat me?»

  Disgusted bystanders backed away from the dessert area, pointing.

  «l'm on something! I'm moving. Hey! I'm ... I'm ... I'm dripping!»

  Light! Blinding light! A searchlight beam had swung wildly. I flared my tail, cranked my wings, flew out of the light.

  Had I been seen? The Yeerks had seen a red-tailed hawk. Way too many times, in all the wrong places. Had they seen me now?

  «l've dripped!» Marco yelled. «l . . . Okay, I'm off Ax's hands. I'm back on the surface of the

  46 chocolate. Near the edge. Don't eat me! I'm serious: Do not eat me!»

  «Use a strawberry. Ax! Use a strawberry!»

  Ax, Rachel, Cassie, and Marco all said, «What?»

  «lt's what you dip in the fondue,» I yelled. «Ax, grab a strawberry! Use it to dip him out.»

  «Dip the dip,» Rachel added, not at all helpfully.

  Ax grabbed a strawberry, and with the concentration of a brain surgeon, lifted Marco from the steaming pot.

  «0kay, Ax, listen very carefully,» Marco hissed. «Do not eat the strawberry. I repeat: Do not -»

  «Guys,» I cut in. «Visser Three just arrived. In human morph, of course.»

  There was no mistaking him. The tall, distinguished-looking man who agilely descended the stairs from back of the stage to congratulate Tom's family. In the most superficial of ways, I suppose he could pass for your average, benign suit. But if you actually looked at him, you sensed that incredible coldness. Emptiness. The dark evil that destroys life like a hand closing strong fingers around your throat.

  Standing just back from the Visser were four guys who could only be security. They looked like the kind of guys you'd see with a Mafia don.

  47 Visser Three worked the main table like a politician. He stopped by Jake's family. He shook hands all around. Patted Tom on the shoulder. Weird thing was, even Tom seemed to squirm a little.

  «So, what's happening? I'm getting bored,» Rachel demanded.

  A fly buzzed past the Visser's ear. Slap!

  «Cassie! Was that you?!» I yelled.

  Jake had gone pale. He was staring, staring as the Visser pulled his hand away from his own face and examined his palm.

  «l'm okay,» Cassie said. «Missed me. Fly reflexes. Very cool. It was close, though.»

  "A fly!" the Visser said. "A fly!" he snapped to his guards. The four human-Controllers bounded forward.

  I didn't see Cassie. I was torn. Should I go lower? Risk being noticed? Then I caught sight of a fly again.

  Cassie circled Jake and landed on his forehead. «Where am I? I'm not sure.»

  Visser Three jumped forward.

  "Such filthy insects. Allow me to . . ." He swung at Jake. Jake's hand shot up. He grabbed the Visser's wrist in his fist.

  For a long few seconds the two of them glared at each other. Visser Three, leader of the Yeerk forces on Earth. And Jake, his unrecognized foe.

  49 «Cassie? MOVE!» I yelled.

  She flew. I lost her again.

  Jake released the Visser's hand. Jake smiled. The Visser smiled. Or at least they formed their mouths into smiles.

  «Cassie? Are you clear?»

  «Yeah. I think I'm in Jake's shirt pocket.» Then she laughed. «The Visser just told Jake he hoped he didn't scare him. Jake said, "I don't scare easy."»

  «That's our boy,» I said.

  Visser Three moved on down the table. Everyone breathed. Jake leaned over to say something to his parents. Then he got up.

  He walked straight through the buffet line, found Ax, and grabbed him by the arm, not at all gently.

  A second later Ax was talking to us all. «Prince Jake says "Enough messing around, let's do what we came here to do."»

  What we had come here to do was turn me over to the Yeerks.

  Personally, I wouldn't have minded some more messing around.

  48

  Jake and Ax parted ways. Jake went around the back of the community center building. Back away from the lights. He tried two of the doors. Both locked.

  He stepped away into the darkness and reappeared a moment later carrying a cinder block. Part of the leftover debris of construction.

  He stood there, waiting. I flew above, waiting. He didn't look up. He knew I was there.

  «AII clear, Jake,» I said.

  He nodded. Then he swung the cinder block into a low window. The tinkling of glass was swallowed up in the booming sound of the emcee's voice announcing the next honoree.

  Jake stepped away quickly.

  50 I took aim on the shattered glass. Plenty of room for me, if I folded my wings. More than enough room for the others, once they found their way there.

  Down I flew, down through the cool, dark air, focusing on the glittering outline. Down through reaching shards of glass that could slice me open, end to end.

  But of course I'm more accurate than that. I can hit a mouse on the run through tall grass. Flying through a hole in a window is really nothing special.

  Zoom! Through! I flared my wings and tail, killed my speed, then resumed level flight.

  Fluorescent lights illuminated a wide hallway with tall cinder block walls. I smelled new construction- fresh paint, drywall dust. And chlorine, coming from the Olympic-size indoor pool I saw through a wall of glass.

  It suddenly struck me just what level of cash flow The Sharing controls. Serious cash. Not the kind of money you make selling Furbies on the black market.

  I zoomed past playrooms. Lego tables, costumes, board games. A large meeting room with a giant table. Big, comfy office chairs. The rooms were empty. Everyone was celebrating the dedication outdoors.

  It's hard flying indoors. No head wind, no tail-

  51 wind, no thermals
. Nothing but flat, dead air. And very little room to maneuver, hemmed in above, below, and on both sides.

  But at the same time, it's exhilarating. A roller coaster for birds. One wrong move and you crumple a wing. Humans think it's scary to be up high, but not for a bird. For a bird altitude is safety.

  I turned a corner and practically ran into Ax. I landed on his back, enjoying the respite.

  «Hey, shouldn't you be in some slightly less provocative morph?» I asked him.

  «Possibly. But I felt a strong, fast tail might prove useful.»

  «Ax-man, we're not here to win. We're here to let me be captured.»

  «True. And yet there is no reason why I cannot do some damage. Merely by way of adding authenticity and realism.»

  I was touched. He was worried about me.

  Ahead was a set of stairs leading down to the basement level. They were roped off, marked with a hastily written sign: under construction. keep out.

  «This looks promising,» Ax murmured.

  «This looks like trouble,» I muttered.

  «As you pointed out: We are here in search of trouble.»

  He walked down the stairs with a catlike

  52 tread. Or with a tread as close to catlike as you can manage while crunching construction debris under hoof.

  The basement was dim and filled with building materials. Piles of floor tile in one corner. A stack of plywood sheathing against the wall. A contractor's table saw. Plastic tarps.

  «Maybe it really is just construction^ I said. «Nobody's down here. If there were access to the Yeerk pool, wouldn't there be people coming and going? Not to mention elaborate security.»

  Before the words were out of my mouth, I realized I'd spoken too soon. Behind the stairs, shielded by a temporary partition, flickered blue-green light. Computer screens. An entire wall of them! Flashing camera images from the celebration outside. The stage. The food tent. The playground. The bandstand. Over the door hung another makeshift sign: event security.

  One man sat with his back to us, watching the screens. Mesmerized by the flickering images.