For Dad

  For Michael and Jake

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  SNEAK PEEK

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  “This is the resistance.”

  I had never heard more pride in Prince Jake’s voice. I know I had never been more proud of him.

 

  Clearly, the Andalite officer on the other end of our interplanetary connection was not similarly impressed.

  Rachel snorted. Jake shot a look at her before speaking. “Look,” he said, “we don’t have much time here. This transmission could be tracked. And we have a lot to talk about. First, the Anati world situation, it’s a trap. The Yeerks have constructed huge Dracon cannon sites on all the moons. Your fleet goes there, it’s obliterated.”

  There was a moment of silence. An understandable delay, given the enormous distance over which we were transmitting and the primitiveness of our transmitting device.

  But I suspected the silence meant something else.

  The voice belonged to another Andalite. Its tone suggested an officer superior to the one with whom Jake had just spoken.

  “Yes,” Jake began, “but things have changed. We —”

 

  “Rude,” Marco mumbled. “Let a guy finish a sentence.”

  The voice went on, cold and imperious. An Andalite’s voice.

  “What the …?”

  Cassie grabbed Rachel’s arm, motioned for her to be silent.

  “Look,” Jake said, controlled anger making his voice tense. “We’ve got the information on good authority. And you have no reason to suspect us of double-dealing.”

  “Yes, he does.” Marco again. “We’re puny, backward humans. Not great, honorable Andalites.”

 

  Jake nodded and I stepped forward, closer to the still unperfected device.

  Since coming to this faraway planet, I have spoken to my people on several occasions.

  Once, via adjustments I made to a primitive human radio telescope. Adjustments that allowed me to break into Zero-space.

  Once, on an Andalite ship commanded by the traitor, Samilin-Corrath-Gahar.

  On two other occasions, I have conversed with Andalites who had also come to Earth.

  But this — this was different. Everything was different. The war was escalating. The Andalites, my people, had to listen to us. They had to be made to listen.

  I said.

  Tobias said. Tobias — my shorm, a nothlit. Our lookout.

  What came next I had not expected. Later, I wondered why, with my varied experience of Andalite character, I had not entertained the possibility of my own people’s suspicion and neglect.

  the officer replied.

 

  But it was too late to protest.

  Tobias.

  “Everybody, morph! Go, go go!”

  Our transmission had gone on too long. The Yeerks were now coming in for the capture. Or the kill.

  I should have paid more attention to the time.

  TSSEEEWWW!

  “Ax!” Jake shouted. “I said, run! Grab the transponder and haul butt!”

  Tobias shouted.

  TSSEEEWWW! TSSEEEWWW!

  The sand around us turned to glass under the awful heat and pressure of Dracon fire. The midnight surf boiled and coughed up dead sea life.

  And in the long, coarse beach grass, under cover of the dim crescent moon, Rachel, Cassie, Marco, and Jake rapidly morphed to their standard bird-of-prey morphs.

  For the usual security reasons they could not be identified by the Yeerks as human. In Marco’s case, he could not be identified by the Yeerks as alive.

  Rachel flapped massive bald eagle wings in the cool night air and struggled off the ground.

  Cassie and Marco, each gone osprey, followed.

  Jake yelled.

  A peregrine falcon rose into the night.

  TSSEEEWWW! TSSEEEWWW!

  I tucked the transponder to my chest, bent as low as I could and still be stable, and ran. In the direction of the dunes, not the parking lot …

 

  Over the damp sand two policemen came slipping and sliding, handheld Dracon beams aimed — at me.

  “Andalite scum! Halt!”

  “Tsseeer!”

  “Aaargh!”

  One human-Controller down, raked across the eyes by a red-tailed hawk.

  And before the other could blink …

  Fwap!

  I lifted my tail over my shoulder and hit him with the flat of the blade. He was definitely down. And out.

  My name is Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill. I am an Andalite. Son of Noorlin-Sirinial-Coorat and Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen. Younger brother of celebrated War Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul. An aristh, a cadet, a warrior in training.

  But my existence in the group of humans that calls itself the Animorphs has, I believe, qualified me as a full warrior. An experienced fighter.

  Why do I fight for and with a people not my own? Because, in many ways, these humans have become my own.

  And the central, most important reason is that the humans are fighting off an invasion of an evil, parasitic alien species known as the Yeerks. The Yeerks must be stopped.

  It doesn’t matter who stops them, or why. Maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t even matter how.

  But that is a dangerous question to ponder.

  Better to concentrate on the present. And the most important thing we needed to do was to stop Visser Three from being promoted to the powerful position of Visser One.

  Because as Visser One, nothing would stop him from an all-out invasion of planet Earth.

  And now, after the frustrating communication with the Andalite officer, it looked as if our task would be a much more difficult one than we’d already anticipated.

  This fact, along with the fact that in the eyes of the human world he was dead, made Marco somewhat — cranky.

  He, Tobias, and I were relaxing in my scoop the morning following the disaster at the beach. My advanced technical ability had provided me with a full variety of cable packages, free of charge. Marco was in possession of the wonderful invention Tobias had found for me — a remote.

  “Freakin’ nothing on! Hundreds of stations and nothing — nothing! — worth watching.”

  Tobias sat perched on the arm of a chair Marco had dragged to the scoop from what he described as “some dump.”

  “What?”

 

  Marco stood and tossed the device onto the seat of the chair.

  “You know what really gets me?” he said.

  I did not reply. I have long ago learned that humans often ask what are known as “rhetorical questions.” When they ask such questions, they do not really want or need you to answer. They are prepared to answer for you.

  “I’ll tell you what really gets me,” Marco said, pacing. “Here we are, six semi-freaks busting our butts trying to prevent a full-scale alien invasion of Earth and I bet you dollars to donuts …”

  Tobias cocked his head.

  Marco glared. “I’d bet a million bucks if I had it that if the average guy on the street was told he’d better get ready, there was going to be a major war, he’d just laugh. He wouldn’t even believe a full-scale war was possible anymore! The average person is too content.”

  I said. It was a rhetorical question.

  “My point is just that people are complacent. All-out, global warfare is a thing of the past. That’s what people think, anyway. No one wants it, no one’s ready for it. And who’s going to believe Earth is about to be attacked by aliens from outer space? They’d think a call to arms was just a publicity stunt for that show Roswell.”

  Tobias said.

 

  Marco snorted and flopped into his chair. “We’d be seriously deep in it.”

  “… the Council suggests … bzzsmmm …”

  I swung my stalk eyes toward the small laptop in one corner of my scoop. A new model Apple computer I had acquired at Computer City. With the help of several months of Rachel’s credit card allowance.

  She informed me that I owed her “big time” for her assistance.

  “What the heck was that?”

  I raised a hand to silence Marco. Nothing further came from the computer.

  I explained finally.

  I have always believed in giving credit where credit is due. Even if it was to a human.

  Tobias stared at me with his intense hawk gaze.

  I continued, I admitted,

  “But the success part, Ax,” Marco pressed. “The fifteen or twenty percent of the time something does get through, that’s something. Or could be.”

  I nodded. Another human gesture I have acquired.

 

  “… again the Council of Thirteen commends Visser Two on his proposed plan, which we have designated Operation 9466: Phase One. Pending final approval from Visser One, the Council orders Visser Two to proceed as … bzzmss … gerubzz …”

  There was silence. Andalite, human, and nothlit — each of us was, I believe it is fair to say, stunned.

 

  Tobias continued to stare at the now silent computer.

  Marco sank back into his chair.

  “You know what I love about this life? There’s never a dull moment. Freakin’ never.”

 

  Tobias said.

  Marco stood up again. “Look, let’s assume our old buddy is now either Visser One or Two. Who’s left? And what’s Operation 9466?”

  Suddenly, I felt angry and frustrated.

 

  Marco laughed. It sounded somewhat like a dog’s bark.

  “Hey, Ax-man, ease up on us dopey humans, okay? Besides, that machine you’ve got there is, like, a toy. For the lay person. What an intellectual Andalite giant like you wants is to hack into some major government computer system.”

  Tobias added.

  It was a very good idea. Illegal. But, we were at war. We didn’t have a choice.

  I said.

  “Whoa. Just, whoa.” Marco. “I wasn’t actually suggesting we break into the U.S. government’s personal stash. That’s the kind of invasion of privacy that gets you life. In jail.”

 

  Marco rolled his eyes. An unfortunate and unattractive expression.

  “I’m saying it’s illegal. Dangerous. I’m saying it’s wrong. Not right.”

  Humans are an odd species. They will proclaim a particular ethical and moral stance one day. And the next, they will proclaim an opposite stance with equal passion.

  When pressed, they explain such behavior as caused by “different circumstances.” Also, depending on “the situation.”

  I said,

  “Do you know how seriously annoying it is to quote someone’s words back at them?” he shouted. “Do you?”

 

  “It means I’ll go along with it. Maybe we can figure out a deal, give the government boys something in return for what we’re taking. Hey, Bird-boy? Are you with us?”

 

  Not a rhetorical question. I said,

  In spite of Marco’s earlier protests, he was the one who suggested we attempt to infiltrate the National Security Agency’s code-breaking computer system.

  And it was Marco who suggested that we should also install a program able to crack any possible security code conceived by humans.

  Needless to say, I would be the one to devise such a program. Which, in the next few moments, I did.

  Now we were ready.

  Tobias kept careful watch from above. Marco hung over my shoulder.

  And with the aid of Cassie’s cell phone and my new lime green iMac, I proceeded to reroute the Yeerk Z-space transmissions through the NSA’s central computer.

  “Federal prison,” Marco said, “here we come.”

 

 

  A few keystrokes. A moment of tension. More waiting.

  “Ax, what’s going on!”

 

  Tobias called.

  Slowly, I swung one eye stalk around and up to look at Tobias, perched on the branch of a tree.

 

  And then, suddenly, it happened.

  This bigger, faster, more powerful machine, combined with my superior Andalite technical knowledge and skills …

  “… The newly appointed Visser One, recently Visser Three, current leader of the Yeerk mission on planet Earth … has approved Operation 9466. Visser Two has undertaken a journey to Earth to assist in the execution of this long-anticipated military action….”

  “Bingo,” Marco whispered.

 

  It had come to me in a flash on our rapid trip to Cassie’s barn. The Animorphs’ traditional meeting place.

  “Of course.” Jake. “So, this mission is major. If it’s being named after the reigning visser.”

  “And if the second in command, whoever he or she is, will be coming along for the ride,” Rachel added.

  “But what’s the point?” Cassie asked.

  “I’ll give you one guess. Yes, that’s right, boys and girls.” Marco paced. “We know from my mother that our old nemesis has been pushing for all-out assault on Earth. No more sneaky, middle-of-the-night stuff. Now we’re gonna see major population ‘cleansing.’ You want to be one of us, a Yeerk? Fine. You don’t? You’re dead. The Yeerks don’t need everyone. One billion people? More than enough.”

  I asked.

  Marco looked at me. “Two things. The Andalite fleet. And humanity’s own resources. I’m talking weapons, but also ingenuity. Flexibility. Hope. All those traits the former Visser One acknowledged and respected and feared about us human beings. The traits the former Visser Three has always ignored.”

  “No way hope is going to conquer a huge alien force,” Rachel said grimly. “At least not before being massacred.”

  Marco sighed. “I know.”

  “But the Yeerks don’t,” Jake added. “They also don’t know for sure we aren’t equipped weapon-wise to annihilate them if they attack. And they don’t know for sure the chances of the Andalite fleet coming to Earth’s rescue are less than good.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7