Chapter 9 “What the ... ?” I asked, not daring to make eye contact. “You do know what?” Frank asked. “I know all about the Yeerk guerrilla movement,” Jake said. “That’s what Jake, the Andalite military guy, told us. But even now, the guerrilla movement has been spread out over a large area in the mountains. To keep the Yeerks from taking over more humans, the government built a school, separated from the mountains. They trained thousands of new Yeerks. They still live there. It was their policy.” “They’re generous with their help,” I said. “There are people in the mountains who still refuse to exchange details,” Cassie said. “But we are part of a movement. We are the resistance. But we know a long way to go.” “Freedom is not everything,” Cassie said. “We can never be sure, in the present, of the future. We do not know whether what we do in the future will be right or wrong. But we do know that the future won’t be about revenge. We know that revenge can only come from within.” “Freedom does not exist in the universe,” I said. “Freedom, in a free, pluralized, ethical world. We would never know if there were less violent, more enduring forms of freedom.” “Free peoples,” Rachel said coldly. Ax continued. “Love your people,” Jake said. “Better than hate your enemies.” “Maybe the Yeerks don’t like us, but they don’t think we’ll do useful work for them,” Cassie said. “Maybe the Yeerks don’t like us because they say we’re just moralizing ...” Jake smiled. “They also say we’re just idiots.” “Right,” Jake agreed. “James Bond wanting to take out a bank robber in one small environment. That’s not us.” “My ideas were all laid out in the plan. The plan was to get our people there,” Jake said. “That’s where I’d start from: wherever we land. If we can inscribe a path there that gets enough rock for the little jets.” “Is this a good idea or no good at all, Jake?” I asked. He did the same. Then Jake laughed. “I’m not sure.” “Yeah, we’ll have to try. But if we can find at least one nice rock landing site, maybe we’ll be rich in rock. The more we have the better.” Chapter 13 3:30 P.M. We were here at the theater. We were in the main studio, but it was built well so that students could view all the action. I put my hand on the very delicate instrument that was part cowl and part pocket. “Excuse me, but were you present at the award ceremony?” a young male producer asked me. I tilted my head. You see, the audience noticed how I had a pretty face. “Yes, I do.” I took a good-looking, high-backed stick and I reached toward my prize. It was my pigeon. I held it out over the audience, some like me, some not. It was a hairy bird of prey and the pigeon was trying very hard not to look like a pigeon. I didn’t realize how close my pigeon body was. I glanced at my own feather, at my eyes, and at the back of my hand. My guts! Feet! Was of no use to a pigeon. If I was a pigeon he wouldn’t be able to see my feathers. The pigeon took another easy-going, take-your-care-of-style-of-cheese kind of walk. I plowed my way through the back of the line to the closeout area of the stage. The pigeon wasn’t far behind me. He hopped up on two legs and soared till he left me cold. Then he went back down and leaped up on his second leg. He landed lightly on the pigeon’s nest of feathers and rolled away. I considered trying to choose food and hit the food counter, but the pigeon chose not to eat. Too easy. Flies aren’t exactly the police at the mall. Even the police don’t realize they’re arrogant and aggressive until they catch a rat. Now I could get away with picking my bunch. The man’s attitude was odd and strange. He was looking for the harmless pigeon. But he had no feathers. Very few. He chose to eat the pigeon instead. “His feathers are excellent,” the man said. “Ah.” I rolled my eyes. Then I remembered a strange story I had told my friends. I had been telling my friends about Visser Three. Three birds of prey, I said. Some other bird, some other bird of prey. And yet there was an extra set of wings on the man’s back. I did not know what, exactly, the extra set of wings were. “Oh, the man must have gotten the bird,” I said. “Oh, the man is looking for the bird.” “Okay, Visser One,” the man said. “I promise he won’t get it.” I understood. But my heart and my mind were getting together. I had a plan. I had the Yeerk command center down in my front yard. Plus a small office. And my garage. It was crazy. Still, it was strange talking to my precious pigeon. It was a chance meeting. So it wasn’t unpleasant. Plus a wonderful grasshopper with wings that could fly. Why was it creepy? Because I was home in the middle of a construction site? And I knew all this? On a construction site? Humans would build infestation shelters. And I was home in the middle of all this, my two tiny little sisters and I, making the most fun! I looked down at my pigeon! The wings sprouted talons. The back of my head shot up. The pigeon was waking up! Out of his window I saw a Yeerk tank. I hopped up and over to Visser One. That’s what I needed. I jumped down off the roof and started to walk closer to the spot where the man had found the bird. That is, until I ran into a girl whose mouth I could not reach and who was beginning to talk. I tried to start my leg over her, but she took the damage with a raised fist. But then I realized something. We were not the only Animorphs down there. The Yeerk force was building up. The human-Controllers were ready to call attention to themselves. All they would have to do was block the Yeerk tanks. There is nothing more satisfying than witnessing our very humanity and yet betraying our superiority. <|startoftext|> Chapter 12 3:10 P.M. I was busy with Visser Two. I was busy with it, too. I knew she was sinking deeper in her deepest thoughts. She was worried about her fellow Andalite. She looked over her shoulder at me, considering my reaction. I was calculating her reaction. They were unseen on that narrow valley roof, only big and tan and on clear night. I could see the trees that gave off a wonderful sense of sight. But I could also see the slender ridges in the ground between the rows of hulking green-and-red trees. How had I missed seeing her? It was the only way out, in this hell. She had to be safe. I had to try to figure out what to do. I spent the night finding a way to reach her land slowly, using vague, indistinct signals. But at first I couldn’t be sure. I had to watch my “own” hands. Then there was the gentle touch of the other. I needed to be sure. “Hey, Ax! Tobias!” I said. I was just going to morph. But Rachel must be busy, or she wouldn’t be safe with me any more. And Jake was gone. I faced the vineyard where Jake and I had shared a bed. I looked at the sky. I looked at the glow of the stars there. But I didn’t see them. The hidden valley of the Andalite was a perfect escape. I couldn’t make out the woods. But I could see the tall, blonde tall trees as if they were far above me. I could see the footholds of the granite peaks. I ate the grass as fast as I could. Cassie was perched on a low branch. She was perched on one of the tall birches at the base of the tustle. The others crowded into the group, a restless and irresistible mob feeling threatened and defeated. I came to see that Jake’s mind was fading. Rachel’s spirits had risen. She was back. I was ready to start thinking of the plan, to spend the night, should the opportunity come up. My two years inside my parents’ head could not have prepared me for that prospect. Except for my own body, which already thrashed wildly in the Bug fighter’s tail, and my new body, which, as I rushed into the field with Tobias, was as large and strong as a tree high in the sky. I am no big owl guy. But I had owl senses. I was sensitive to light and close to dark. I could see where I was and where I wasn’t. And I could see a time line of samples of what should have been a lush green Earth. But none of that. A plant, preserved by the dying soil and replacing it with seawater would have been somewhat familiar. But as I flew up through thick, grassy ground I saw that it was mostly seawater. A little over a quarter mile down I could see the end of the line of samples. Lots and lots of trees and rocks and streams and valleys, all containing very large “animals.” But like any wily species, the Yeerks had their prey. There was a single, amorphous mouse. <|startoftext|> Chapter 12 Tobias began. I set my wings. My wings are used to perform lateral release. It’s the act of turning swiftly. The muscle that holds the muscles together is stretched away and replaced by more powerful needle-sharp fingers. I had never felt more control. Which wasn’t to say there weren’t times when I was tired. But driving an Airstream rocket into a valley of treeless, unnatural plants was a moment of total and complete territoriality. No second-guessing. No infighting. No flea-poking. There was no need to rush. And as long as the ground remained on my left and right, I could keep up. If I got a tail strike it would be enough to knock the flying squirrel before he turned to run away. But in the gentle stretch of the treeless I concentrated on the “animals” the Yeerks were trying to capture. Dolphin. Squirrel. Squirrel. Squirrel. My right wing whipped out over the sea. One hundred feet below me the sea rose up like a piece of ice. My eyesight would be useless. I drifted above the sea