The Other

  Gafinilan’s two stalk eyes swiveled madly for a second. Then a look of shocked understanding came to them. <You, all of you — you are the Andalite bandits Visser Three fears. Are all of you but Aximili — human?>

  “Yes,” Jake said. He shot a glance at Tobias. “More or less. We were enlisted by Prince Elfangor to fight the Yeerks.”

  <You see,> Ax said matter-of-factly, <there is no adult Andalite for you to acquire so that you may escape Soola’s Disease.>

  <What!> Gafinilan roared, pointing his shredder at Ax. <How dare you make such an accusation! I am a warrior. Never in a galaxy’s age would I disgrace myself by acting with such base and selfish cowardice.>

  Silence. Gafinilan’s hand began to shake and he lowered the shredder. And then Tobias spoke.

  <You know, in the Andalite world, it might be considered a moral failing or a crime against personal honor or something to seek to cure yourself in any way you can. But not here. Not on Earth.>

  <He’s right,> Cassie added quickly. <We don’t judge or condemn people who seek health through legitimate paths. We …>

  Gafinilan raised the shredder again. <You don’t understand at all!> he cried, despairingly. <Nobody understands.>

  “Why don’t you explain,” Jake suggested quietly.

  There was a moment of silence. A moment during which I thought it pretty likely Gafinilan would do something desperate. Tension radiated from every inch of him. And then he shuddered, like he’d made a decision, and the tension was replaced by what looked and felt a lot like exhaustion.

  He lowered the shredder again and spoke.

  <It is true. I have Soola’s Disease. But what I have done I have not done for myself. I have done all for Mertil.>

  <Obviously, Mertil is not morph capable,> Ax said. <I do not understand.>

  The ghost of a small, self-mocking smile appeared in Gafinilan’s main eyes. <You see? Nobody understands. I suppose there is no reason to keep the truth from you,> he conceded. <Some human, some meddlesome, possibly innocent human stumbled upon Mertil feeding. Visser Three saw the tape — whether on television or in some other way, I do not know. But it was enough. Mertil was seized by the Yeerks. Only then did the visser discover that Mertil was a vecol.> Gafinilan’s voice tightened. <Of course, the Yeerks have no use for a mere cripple. Especially one who is not morph-capable.>

  “Blackmail?” I guessed.

  <Yes. The visser used Mertil to find me and I offered to exchange myself for Mertil. After all, it was my fault that he was seen by a human. I should have protected him more carefully. But Mertil anticipated my action. In an effort to save my life he informed the visser of my medical condition.> Gafinilan laughed roughly. <The visser has no more use for an Andalite with a several-month life expectancy than he does for a vecol.>

  <I suppose you could be grateful for that,> Cassie commented.

  Gafinilan turned an eye stalk in her direction. <We all want to be wanted,> he remarked quietly.

  “The visser still wants something from you,” Jake said.

  <Oh, yes. Visser Three is quite clever. And quite cruel. He has offered me a trade. If I bring him a healthy, morph-capable Andalite, he will release Mertil to me.>

  <And you trust him?> Rachel spat.

  <What choice do I have? Trust and act, or do nothing and wait for news of Mertil’s murder. When I unexpectedly encountered young Aximili, I did not hesitate to bait my trap —>

  Ax interrupted. <You are willing to betray one of your own people to the Yeerks in exchange for your friend’s life? For the life of a mere vecol?>

  <For me,> Gafinilan stated, <it is not about action traitorous to my world. For me, it is personal. It is about friendship.>

  “Let’s do it. Let’s rescue Mertil and kick some Yeerk butt.”

  Big guess who said that.

  We all demorphed and Jake introduced us to Gafinilan. He explained Tobias and strongly suggested to Gafinilan — with a swift glance at all of us — that we join forces to recover Mertil.

  <There is no need for you to further involve yourselves in this situation,> Gafinilan replied, almost harshly. <Mertil is my responsibility.>

  I shook my head. I wasn’t totally buying Gafinilan’s story, not without proof, but I knew that his going in alone was ridiculous. And potentially dangerous for us. My vote? Don’t let this guy out of our sight. “What are you going to do all by yourself?” I said. “Against Visser Three and masses of Hork-Bajir shock troops?”

  “No offense, Gafinilan,” Jake added. “But you’re in no shape to act alone. The odds are against you even without your being sick.”

  “Besides,” Cassie said gently, “you and Mertil are here on Earth because you were fighting to protect us. The human race. Consider it a favor if we help you rescue Mertil. Good karmic payback.”

  Tobias remained silent. Not unusual. He’s unpredictably moody lately. But I was sure he was with the program.

  Ax, too, declined to help convince Gafinilan to accept our assistance. I was pretty sure he was not with the program.

  <But …> Gafinilan hesitated. <I cannot allow children to fight my battle. It would be unconscionable.>

  Rachel rolled her eyes.

  “No disrespect, Gafinilan,” Jake said, “but we’re going with you. Actually, you’re going with us. So now, you play by our rules or you sit this one out.”

  If Gafinilan was stunned or offended by Jake’s speech, he didn’t show it. Exhaustion, depression — whatever it was — made him accept the situation with little or no resistance.

  <Mertil is moved throughout the day and night,> he said after a moment. <As far as I can tell, he is never in the same place for more than an hour, and has never been in the same place twice.>

  “Why not just keep him in the Yeerk pool complex?” Rachel asked. “Plenty of empty cages, torture equipment, stuff like that.”

  <I imagine the visser is afraid of attack,> Gafinilan answered. <I imagine he does not trust me to complete our bargain. I imagine he half expects me to join up with the guerrilla forces that plague his efforts. Which, it seems, I have just done.>

  “So, Mertil’s in some sort of transport vehicle,” Cassie said. “A truck, a horse trailer, something. How do we find it? Aerial surveillance …”

  Ax interrupted, <We cannot risk our lives for a vecol.>

  “Okay, Ax-man,” I said, my voice a little less than steady. “I’ve been cutting you slack on this handicapped thing because you’re part of the team. But when you talk like that, like this guy is some sort of dirty, worthless thing, I have to say you’re just not one of us.”

  <I do not and have never pretended to be human,> Ax stated.

  Rachel snorted. “You’re so full of it, Marco. I seem to recall your calling that Hewlett Aldershot guy who was in a coma a vegetable. No, wait, a carrot, to be exact.”

  “Not the same thing,” I shot back. “That was black comedy. Gallows humor. Not an open or implied insult.”

  “Actions do speak louder than words,” Cassie said quietly.

  “Thank you. I might not always say the right thing, but most times I do the right thing. Or try to, at least. My intentions,” I added, smirking, “are good.”

  <This is not about Marco,> Tobias said. <This is about Mertil. Mertil is Gafinilan’s shorm, Ax. Can’t you understand …>

  “Whether Ax understands or not,” Jake interrupted, “we’re doing this. Is that understood? Good. Gafinilan, you’ve been in contact with Mertil?”

  During our verbal skirmish, Gafinilan had remained silent. Maybe he was tired of having to defend his position.

  <Mertil and I have been the closest of friends since our childhood,> he said finally. <Unless we are on different planets, we can hear each other’s thought-speak. Not perfectly. Often exact words are not clear. But the sound of Mertil’s voice is always with me. It helps me to know he is alive.>

  “So, what?” Rachel said. “Bird morphs, cover every inch of the town until we get close enough to Mertil for Gafinila
n to hear specifics? Hope Mertil has been able, at least, to get a glimpse out a window or something.”

  I understand ruthless.

  I understand, maybe more than any of the others, what it means to be unsentimental. Cold, even. To see the end in the beginning and the beginning in the end.

  I’m not denying that Jake, for example, doesn’t make his share of tough decisions. That almost every day he isn’t forced to choose between two seemingly impossible, equally degrading choices. That he doesn’t feel the agony of those crisis moments. That too often he looks about fifty.

  All I’m saying is that I understand, immediately and on some instinctual level, the state of ruthlessness you have to reach — almost, to live in — to be able to make those impossible choices. To see the right way to the right end.

  To accept being perceived as cruel and heartless.

  To live with the fact that people are afraid of getting too close to someone like me, like maybe it’ll rub off, my ability to do what needs to be done.

  In spite of my incredible sense of humor, I am not always fun to be around. And there are a lot of reasons why. What would you be like if you had to decide whether to save what was left of your mother’s life? Or let Visser One, the Yeerk, live? Calculated risk. I still don’t know the results of that particularly agonizing decision, but I’d been able to do it. Been able to make the decision.

  So, on some level, I knew what Gafinilan was all about. How he’d made the impossible decision to do whatever it took to save his friend’s life. Even if that meant sacrificing his own. Even if that meant handing over another Andalite, one of his own people, to the Yeerks.

  It was a pretty ruthless thing to do. And I was pretty sure he would do it again if he had to.

  I respected him for that.

  <Jake.> I spoke privately. <You’d better be aware we are in serious doo-doo if this guy decides to trade loyalties …>

  <Marco. We’re doing this.>

  <Fine. I’m here. But let’s be clear. What Gafinilan was saying is that he was ready to betray us. What’s changed? Okay, he can’t fulfill his part of the bargain with the visser. Can’t deliver an adult Andalite. But maybe he can cut a new deal, if things start going bad. Hand over the human “Andalite bandits” in exchange for Mertil.>

  <He said he’d work with us, not against us,> Jake said, tiredly.

  <You believe that. I’ll believe the opposite. That way we have all bases covered.>

  <Fine. Let’s get this over with.>

  Gafinilan was in an owl morph he’d picked up a while back. I was an owl. Cassie was osprey. Jake, peregrine falcon. Rachel, bald eagle and Ax northern harrier. Tobias, of course, was himself.

  For the past half hour we’d been flying north of town in a widespread group. Hoping to find a trace of Mertil. So far, radio silence.

  <Mertil says he is in some sort of graveyard.> Gafinilan’s thought-speak was sudden and excited.

  <Impossible.> Rachel. <There are no graveyards out this way. That I know of, anyway.>

  <Warehouses, yes …>

  <He said that when his Hork-Bajir guards opened the door of his current prison, he was able to glimpse several large, boxlike, rectangular vehicles, somewhat similar to the one in which he is being held. They are made of metal, but rusted. Mertil assumes they have been abandoned.>

  <Got it,> I said. <The old train yard. About a mile out from here.>

  The old train yard and final station stop had not been in operation since, like, my grandmother was a kid. Now, it was only a vast arena of sharp edges from which to get lockjaw. A place where teenagers hung and had wild parties and did things they could get arrested for.

  We reached the acre or so of dilapidated metal train parts. And saw nothing you wouldn’t expect to see in such a place. Even with my superior owl vision, I could make out no suspicious footprints in the dirt or tufts of blue fur stuck to jagged pieces of boxcar.

  And the place was quiet. Too quiet.

  I circled lower, hoping for some shred of evidence that Mertil was being held on this site. Again, nothing. Hundreds of empty boxcars, each sixty feet long. The occasional caboose or flatcar. Some cattle cars lying on their sides. A locomotive or two.

  <Nothing,> I said disgustedly. <Rust, rats, and empty cars.>

  <Gafinilan, do you still hear Mertil?> Jake asked. <Are you sure he’s here?>

  <Yes, yes. He is close.>

  <Okay then, people. We’re going to have to land, morph some firepower, get our hands dirty.>

  <Is it me,> I asked generally, <or does Jake sound like a deranged camp director when he talks like that?>

  <It’s you.> Cassie. The girlfriend. Figured.

  Just then —

  <About three o’clock everyone!> I called.

  The door to one of the abused boxcars was sliding open. And the boxcar was disgorging about a dozen Hork-Bajir.

  Another car! And another dozen Hork-Bajir.

  Oh, yeah. There was definitely something there.

  Night was falling fast. Maybe the mass of clustered, hulking railroad cars added to the sense of gloom that seemed to be descending over the old yard and station.

  The place had the eerie feel of all abandoned scenes of once-frenzied human activity. In a sense, Mertil was right when he called it a graveyard. No more hustling conductors and scurrying maintenance men. No more excited passengers and no more fretful family members, waiting for those passengers to disembark.

  Now it really was the end of the line. Thick with shadows thrown by a few dim and distant roadway lights. And within those murky shadows, huge, shuffling Hork-Bajir.

  We landed on the far east of the yard, atop a right-side-up passenger car. From there, we could watch the Yeerk shock troops undetected. Watch as they streamed through the mazelike paths between rusted-out corpses and gathered in a small clearing almost exactly at the yard’s center.

  Watch as they loosely surrounded a fifteen-foot U-Haul truck, the self-rental kind.

  <I’m thinking Mertil’s probably in that U-Haul. And that they’re gonna be moving him pretty soon,> I said.

  <Yes.> Gafinilan paused. <Mertil believes this to be true. He has overheard some of his captors discussing the next destination. But he has no details.>

  <Tobias?> Jake said. <Stay up top. We’re going to need you to guide us toward that clearing once we’re on the ground. Everybody else? Battle morphs. I’m thinking we’re going to have to bust Mertil out the hard way.>

  <What about Gafinilan?> Ax asked stiffly. <With all due respect, you are not well …>

  <I will fight. That is, if your prince will allow me to join you.>

  <Great,> Jake said. <But if you feel you can’t hold out, lay low. I don’t want to have to rescue two Andalites tonight. Ax? Keep close to Gafinilan in case he needs help.> Jake paused. <Or in case he decides to switch sides.>

  Gafinilan didn’t respond to Jake’s statement. Either he really was a good soldier, acknowledging Jake as his prince. Or he was even more calculating than I’d assumed.

  We glided off the roof of the car and demorphed. Then I went gorilla, with cinder-block fists. Jake to tiger, with deadly claws and teeth. Cassie to wolf, lithe and tireless. Rachel used her elephant morph, perfect for bulldozing and busting through pesky walls of metal. Ax and Gafinilan stayed Andalite.

  Suddenly …

  <You must go.> It was a thought-speak voice I didn’t recognize. Soft and sad. A broken voice. The voice of someone after the boredom and shame of capture sets in.

  Mertil.

  Truth is, sure, leaving would have been no problem. I’m not stupid enough to get all excited about wading into bloody battle, four kids, a bird, two aliens — one mortally ill and possibly traitorous — against a good hundred Hork-Bajir soldiers.

  I glanced at Gafinilan. He was holding tightly to the rusted axle of a caboose. Breathing shallowly.

  <Gafinilan?> I said. <Tell Mertil we’ll see him in a few.>

  <Tobias,> Jake said. <We’re ready. Which
way to the clearing?>

  Way up in the dark sky, Tobias, our own perfect wilderness guide, said, <There’s a red caboose dead ahead. Circle it to the left. If I say it’s clear, continue on past the next car.>

  We lumbered and stalked and trotted forward. Through the maze of looming abandoned hulks. Tobias guided us until we were within a few dozen yards of the clearing. And, by the light of a smallish bonfire the Hork-Bajir had just built, we could see all too clearly just how outnumbered we were.

  <Gee, Jake, have the odds ever been this bad?> I asked brightly.

  <Sure,> Jake answered. <But this time we’ve got the element of surprise.>

  “Andalite!”

  <Oh, crap.>

  Not even Tobias is perfect. Up on top of a railway car stood a Hork-Bajir. Pointing a bladed arm down at us.

  <He must have scrambled up the other side!> Tobias called. <It’s too dark!>

  Sirens. Frenzied commands. The ominous sound of Hork-Bajir blades against metal.

  So much for the element of surprise.

  “Aaahhh!”

  The Hork-Bajir hurled himself from the top of the car.

  <Rachel! It’s your soulmate!>

  One lone Hork-Bajir, tearing at the seven of us, blades flashing.

  WHUMPF!

  He hit the ground when Gafinilan smacked him with the side of his enormous tail blade.

  <He is unconscious,> the Andalite said. <I believe he will remain so for some time.>

  <Duh.>

  <Everyone!> Jake. <We’re not going to stand here and wait for the rest of them to show up. Stick to the shadows. We move forward and surround the clearing.>

  <Too late, man,> Tobias reported. <They’re sending out a unit of Hork-Bajir. They’ll be on you in a minute!>

  <Okay, new plan. Wait until they’re close,> Jake snapped. <Then we take them down.>

  <What about the next batch, after them?> Cassie cried.

  <Take them down, too. We’ve got to keep pushing closer to the clearing.>

  <And Mertil,> Gafinilan said quietly.

  <Look out!>

  Out of the gloom, ten Hork-Bajir, charging ahead. Too late to hide.