Let's Read Animorphs! The Whole Series! Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges

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Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 18

quote:

Rachel rose on hind legs and cautiously lifted the sewer cap just enough to peer out. Standing erect, she was taller than the ceiling. She pushed the cap aside. Jake followed her out with a lightning leap. Marco brought up the rear.

Their time in morph was almost up. They needed to demorph and remorph, and Rachel needed to do a quick check-in at home. I�d been in morph about an hour and a half. Ax�s turn at digging was almost up.

They put the cap partially back and disappeared. It was just Taylor and me underground. �Your friends have left you,� she observed. �What if they don�t come back?�

This was part of Taylor�s fun. To play with my head. I didn�t answer. I wouldn�t let her affect me. When she walked slowly up to me, I didn�t move. When she reached out with her real hand and touched the fur just above my shoulders, I didn�t breathe.

�A handsome species,� she complimented, sounding not like a teenage girl, but like a sly, sophisticated Yeerk. �You deserve more than your tradition allows.�

I backed away.

�Your friends don�t understand how powerful we Yeerks are,� she continued. �But I know that you do. We will have no place for your friends in our new society, but you � every comfort you wish would be yours. We could rule together. Join us.�

I jerked away, shocked that I�d let her go on so long. She laughed. A long and confident laugh.

 I said quietly.

�Of course we are. Of course we are. But think � democracies need leaders, and laws to protect the citizens. Someone has to make the laws � �

<It will never be me.>

�You deserve more,� she persisted, then grinned, turned, and walked away. It was an odd thing to say. I felt like a doomed mouse, poked and prodded by a clawed cat. I couldn�t respond. I could only look away.

A crescent of light illuminated the chamber. I heard yelping and looked up to see two wolves pawing and pushing at the heavy iron cap. They slid it open and leaped down, landing very hard.

<We wanted to be smaller,> Marco explained privately. <But we have to keep Taxxon-Ax in line, and Yeerk-girl intimidated.>

Jake paced back and forth before the tunnel opening. The new morph allowed him eight paces before he had to turn around. Better than the five in tiger. He was silent for a minute, then, looking at the watch I wore, <Guys, uh, we�ve got a problem. Ax was due back by now. I�ve been calling him, but he doesn�t answer. Did you change plans, Tobias?>

<No.> I raised an arm to silence everyone. We listened. Marco pressed an ear to the side of the tunnel. I could just make out a very faint grating sound, much fainter than before. Maybe it was Andalite hearing. Or maybe Ax was �

<He�s still going at it,> Marco announced. <The boy�s gonna dig to China.>

I took a few steps into the tunnel. <Ax, can you hear me? You have to stop. You�ll die of exhaustions There was no reply, thought-speak or otherwise. <He must be fixated. We have to stop him.>

<Just what do you have in mind?> Marco asked.

I looked at Taylor. She sat with her back against the wall and glanced from me to Jake to Marco with casual suspicion. I looked hesitantly at the opening of the tunnel. It wasn�t really large enough for our power morphs.

 I said. I took off the watch, checked the glow-in-the- dark numbers. Put it around Jake�s right front leg. <Cover me.> I trotted several feet into the tunnel. When I saw, through swiveled stalk eyes, that Jake and Marco had planted themselves in front of the entrance and masked me from Taylor�s view, I demorphed. Then I began to morph again.

Feathers turned to thin skin that stretched tight as an umbrella over wing bones. Blindness banished all trace of light. It had been dark already, but now there was a vision void. A nothingness that made my heart pound.

Then, a new sense. A kind of hearing. The sharpest hearing you�ve ever known. I couldn�t make out everything, but the higher sounds were crystal clear.

Then suddenly, it was more than mere hearing. I could tell exactly where all sounds came from. They formed a picture of my surroundings. So much like sight. So different, too.

I was echolocating. I was a bat.

<Jake, Marco, follow me,> I called. I flapped my thin wings far faster than a hawk ever does and flew easily along the tunnel. The sonic chirps I emitted told me exactly where the sides were. The bat felt at home.

<Ax?>

No answer. I flew a long way, maybe a quarter mile, until I came to something strange. The tunnel became something else, something expanded. A hollowed-out space. A large cavern-room.

Like maybe Ax had gone nuts and circled up and down ten or twelve times.

I could hear Ax now. Closer. The high-pitched screeching of Taxxon teeth on dirt and small rocks was almost deafening to bat senses. Extraloud echolocation was necessary to see over the noise. The tunnel continued on the far side of the chamber. I flapped my wings and flew in.

<Ax, is that you?> My chirps weren�t returning. They were being absorbed. By something soft, something �

WHAP!

I flew into Ax�s backside and slapped to the tunnel floor.

<Ax, stop!> I focused all my energy on that thought-speak command, trying to penetrate his trance. It worked. He stopped digging.

<Cannot go on,> he groaned faintly.

<Darn straight. You�ve got minutes left in morph, Ax-man. Let�s clear out.>

<Too weak. Can � not � can � not move.>

The tunnel had narrowed to barely bigger than the circumference of the Taxxon. Usually a Taxxon�s vigor made its tunnel at least large enough for it to comfortably wiggle out.

<Tobias, what�s going on?> Jake, sounding understandably edgy. <We can�t see anything.>

<Follow the tunnel,> I said shortly. <Ax is stuck. An overeating stupor. He�s dying here with, like, seven minutes left in morph. You have to pull him out.>

<You want us to march straight toward a Taxxon? Whose side are you on?>

<He�s too weak to turn around or hurt you.>

 Marco said. <Serious overtime.>

Marco and Jake crawled through the pitchblack until they bumped into Ax.

<Oh, man!> Marco gasped. <Wolf sense of smell is way too good.> The stench was overwhelming.

They bit into the soft baggy flesh and pulled.

�Skreeeee!� Ax cried involuntarily.

<Hurry,> I said to Jake. <There�s no time!>

The hulking worm began to move. Marco strained and fought. Jake snarled and pulled. Inch by inch they dragged Ax out. By the watch around Jake�s leg, it took a full five minutes to reach the carved out, earthen cavern.

Less than two minutes to go.

 Jake said.

<His skin has no bulge. It�s like he�s deflating.>

<Demorph,> I urged. <Please, Ax, demorph!>

No answer.

<Ax, now!> Jake ordered.

<We were too late,> Marco said flatly. <He�s going to die.>

So in this chapter we've learned there's democracy and "democracy", and the danger of overeating.

Chapter 19

quote:

<Ax!> I cried. Panic gripped my tiny bat heart. <Ax! Ax! Ax!>

<Yes, Tobias, it is me.> I caught the echo of something larger and more reflective than a Taxxon. A form that was changing. Becoming taller than a wolf � four legs � two arms � We collapsed in the darkness, exhausted and terrified, thankful to be together.

I demorphed and prepared to dig again as a Taxxon. But then �

�Hey, what�s going on?�

A faint light, way down the tunnel. It was coming nearer, bobbing as it came.

Jake and Marco saw the light, too. We watched as it increased in size and brightness until at last Taylor emerged into the earth-cavern. Rachel was in grizzly morph right behind her, her body wedged tight in the tunnel.

Taylor crawled on hands and knees in the Taxxon goo. There was no question the Yeerk was in full control. It was the kind of thing Taylor-the-girl would never do. Her hair was a mess, plastered to her face by Taxxon slime. One hand gripped an electric fluorescent lantern.

�What happened here?� Taylor demanded, looking at the cavern. When my eyes adjusted, I saw what a strange place the cavern was. It wasn�t square or round or ovoid. Nothing normal. It was an undulating, chaotic intersection of many different, smaller tunnels.

 Ax answered honestly. 

<He ate himself to exhaustion,> Jake added, more for Rachel than for Taylor. <We had to drag him out.>
 Ax confessed.

�Andalite incompetent,� Taylor raged suddenly.

<Watch yourself, Yeerk,> Rachel roared back.

<It�s okay, Ax-man,> Jake said privately. <You dug about ten times farther than we expected. Tobias, take it easy this time. And, uh, don�t morph or demorph near us, okay?>

I didn�t need to be reminded. Jake didn�t want me eating them. He also didn�t want Taylor seeing me morph straight from hawk to Taxxon.
I hopped to the opening of the tunnel Ax had dug and flapped a little to get out of sight. My wings scraped the tunnel sides and I crash-landed about fifty feet in.

<I�m going Taxxon,> I warned.

I was better prepared this time. I was ready when the instincts reared up and told me to follow the smell of my friends.

I turned my ravenous, empty belly to the tunnel instead. I rushed forward to the place where Ax had stopped. Fierce hunger propelled me into the soil wall.

I was more aware this time. I felt what was going on around me. What was going on inside the Taxxon mind. It wasn�t simple hunger. It wasn�t pure rage. No. What drove the Taxxon to eat and dig was more complicated. It was something I understood. A sort of insecurity or fear. Yes, a fear � grossly exaggerated � beyond anything humans experience � a desperate fear of not having enough � a terror of starvation � a horror that your essential needs will go unfulfilled � a horror demented and contorted by the Taxxon mind until it became a sick, murderous evil.

I wouldn�t have understood, or even noticed, if I hadn�t been hawk for so long. I�ve experienced just enough of that feeling to recognize it.

A whole species of terrified overeaters. It made me almost sorry for them. Almost.

I dug and thought of Taylor. The Yeerk and the girl. What they�d let themselves become �

Was anyone all evil? That couldn�t be possible. I�ve heard that even Hitler was good to his dogs.

Taylor had been too insecure to face her peers without her beauty. She�d done what she had to do to make the fear go away.

Evil, even the worst evil, has banal origins every human can understand. Weakness. Fear. Insecurity.

I understood Taylor. I understood the Taxxon.

The realization frightened me as nothing ever has.

Suddenly, the Taxxon�s pace began to slow. I was getting tired, if you can call it that. A digging Taxxon doesn�t get tired the way people do. It doesn�t notice it�s tired. It doesn�t decide to slow. It just fades away, like a drained battery.

I�d lost track of time. Must have been digging for over an hour. I pressed on. Eating. Expelling. The dirt tasted good. It wasn�t flesh, but it wasn�t bad.

Soon there were more and more rocks in the dirt. Small at first, then larger. Bigger than even a Taxxon could swallow. I pushed the rocks aside and continued until I hit a smooth, continuous surface. Probably the remnants of an old building foundation.

I tried to go around. It curved up and up, like the crest of a dome.

Then it hit me. I�d reached it. I�d found the Yeerk pool.

I continued along the surface until it became almost flat and I found what I thought was the top. Taylor said we would strike fairly high. I never guessed we would strike at the center.

There were no cracks or openings anywhere. It was completely continuous. How could I break through?

The Taxxon knew what to do.

I opened my Taxxon mouth wide. Full capacity. I swiveled my teeth so they scraped the concrete like a drill. A hundred teeth screeched across the stone. Friction made my mouth hot. Caustic Taxxon spit burned and dissolved the rock.

I gnawed deep into the shell of the dome, a hole four or more feet across and almost as deep. My body felt heavy and ill. And at last I saw a flicker of red light.

So, I think this chapter summarizes what the book is about, and that's fear of weakness and how it can drive you to desperate things: The Taxxons' fear of starvation, Taylor's fear of rejection, and Tobias's fear of being weak.

# ? Jun 13, 2022 04:00

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# ? May 24, 2024 07:08

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 20

quote:

A thousand horrors. A crazy, mixed-up hell right here on Earth. A melting pot of enslaved, alien races. A sea of two kinds of motion: the slow, deliberate movements of bodies who aren�t free, and the wild, desperate spasms of doomed, caged prisoners.

From my vantage point, the pool itself churned directly below. Hard to say how far down. Not more than a hundred feet. Then there was the infestation pier, built out above the slugs. Human after human cursed or spit or wailed before the Hork-Bajir forced their head under to accept a Yeerk master.

The cages that ringed the pool seemed to have multiplied since I�d seen them last. It was like a bizarre sort of amphitheater. The spectators were the people from town. Some of them I knew. Like Ms. Powell, my old math teacher, and Brent Starr, the anchor from the news.

Others were strangers to me. Mothers and fathers. Young kids. Bus drivers. Lawyers. Artists. Government employees. Everyone, from every walk of life. All screaming. Burning out their vocal cords. Tears pouring from eyes. Veins bulging from foreheads. Sweat coursing from brows. They wanted to be free! They wanted nothing more than to be free.

Then I realized that a great number of the caged prisoners weren�t crying out. They watched the proceedings with distaste, but they didn�t rage with anger. They stood immobile and calm. I�d seen voluntary hosts before. Voluntary hosts enjoyed the show. These weren�t voluntary.

Who were they? What had happened to these hosts? It was like they�d passed a point beyond the point of caring. Like they were zombies or something. But that was impossible. Everyone fights for freedom to the bitter end. Everyone has to!

These hosts had an air about them. They stared off into the vast space with a look of � pride? Conviction? They looked almost as if they had purpose.

Maybe they were Yeerks from the peace faction? So many of them here? Now? Oh, man, not now �

�Beautiful, isn�t it?� whispered a female voice inches from my head. I jerked against the tunnel wall.

It was Taylor. Taylor!

How did she crawl down the tunnel alone? How did she get away from the others?

Who cared?

Every inch of me wanted to bite her head off. She was a fleshy meal ready-made. Plus, she was the scum of the universe. Would it be so bad to get rid of her?

I opened my mouth, moved in for the attack �

And was suddenly paralyzed. I couldn�t move my mouthparts or upper body. How stupid was I?

She�d zapped me.

�Don�t be dumb,� she said. �Get control of your morph.�

Ax had said something about a hibernation state. I searched the Taxxon consciousness for a clue. I found it suddenly in a mental vision, an image of bodies mounded into an endless mountain. The picture relaxed me. I could feast forever. I didn�t have to find food, I had enough right there. I was in control enough to speak.

<How did you get here? The others would never let you walk away from them.>

�You don�t think they trust me? I�m hurt. Really.�

<What did you do to them?>

�You know me, Andalite. I wouldn�t hurt a fly. I temporarily incapacitated them, yes. I needed to talk to you.�

<We�re in,> I said. I began now to broadcast my thought-speak, hoping the others would hear me, wherever they were.

�I can see that,� she mocked. �But I don�t care right now. I want to talk to you.� I stayed quiet. I felt sick. It wasn�t the Taxxon�s problem. It was mine. Taylor had me cornered.

�Relax,� she continued. �You�re shaking like one of Visser Three�s personal guards. It�s just me. Remember me?�

<What do you want?> I asked.

�Look down there,� she said, glancing at the Yeerk pool. �We are so organized. We run with the precision of a Swiss watch. We are invincible. When I take command, we will reach new heights.�

<What are you talking about? Take command? You mean, when you introduce democracy.>

�Yes, of course that�s what I mean,� she said, the corners of her mouth turning upward with a shocking lack of subtlety. �I want you to join me. I think you know how smart I am. I think you know my will to succeed. I want you to cofound the new Yeerk society.�

Suddenly, Taylor�s words seemed distant. Because I saw the hidden spot, down by the Yeerk pool. I saw the place where I had perched as the seconds counted down. The seconds before I became a nothlit.

�What do you get as an underling with Andalite bandits?� she went on, her voice seductive. �You are obviously not a leader. You are not even second-in-command. You are a nobody.�

I flashed back to that night at the Yeerk pool. Remembered how carefully I had weighed my options. Since then I�d been telling myself there was no choice. That if I�d demorphed, the visser would have been on me in a flash. He would have known that we were human. He would have found my friends.

But there is always a choice. In any and every situation. It�s usually the choice between bad and worse. But it�s still a choice.

�Come on,� she said again. �Be my host. Offer me your body and you can have anything you want.� Choice. Traitor or �

<Can I have freedom?> I asked.

�It is a kind of freedom,� she answered.

<Can I be happy?> I asked.

�It is a kind of happiness,� she replied.

I looked back at the rock face, my nothlit birthplace. I�d made a decision. Had I made a bad decision? I didn�t know. And suddenly, I realized that I would never know. I know that I stuck with my choice. And that I had followed it through to the very end.

I looked at Taylor. For the first time, her physical beauty was difficult to see. Her hair and face were covered in dirt. Her expression was the twisted, power-hungry look of a dictator. The only thing that could have made her beautiful now was her inside. And there certainly wasn�t anything beautiful there.

<I�m stronger than that,> I said slowly. <You�re only out for power and control. That�s it. And when you get it - if you get it - you�ll only want more. I think that power as your only goal is pointless.>

�You don�t really believe that,� she mocked.

<Don�t I?> I said. <If I didn�t, why would I find you so gross? How would I see that you�re weak? All you�re about is envy and power.>

She looked at me, then at the pool, then back down the tunnel. �And it will be my pleasure,� she rasped, �to prove you right.�

So you see Taylor's real plan here, right?

Chapter 21

quote:

She jabbed her synthetic fist in my still-paralyzed throat and left me gagging. Then she turned away from the view of the Yeerk pool and shot off down the tunnel as fast as human legs would carry her.

<Where are you going?> I choked out. Her lantern disappeared from view.

�You�ll know soon enough, Andalite!� she cried.

I shed all thoughts of hibernation and summoned the hunger that had been sitting on the edge of my consciousness.

I focused on the image of the girl and my legs began to scratch and scrape against the rocky tunnel walls. I squished my body into an impossible U-shape. I needed to turn around. Sure, I could run just as fast backward. But I wanted my mouth, my weapon, to be ready.

I called again. <Stop!>

No answer.

I powered my legs like there was a raw T-bone six inches from my face. With the speed of a greyhound and the mass of a tree trunk, I skittered into blackness, after my prey.

My throat and neck were still numb. My tongue dangled from my mouth like a three-foot leash.

<Hey!> I called to the others. <Taylor�s coming back through. Stop her!>

My needle-legs continued to scrape through the dirt, like the gallop of a hundred tiny horses.

<We can�t move!> Jake yelled to me. <How long does this stuff last?>

<Not long. Try. Try!>

<Here she comes,> Rachel yelled. <Here she comes!>

<Get her!>

<We can�t!>

Whoooomp!

My body burst from the tunnel like a cork from a bottle. I was in the cavern Ax had carved out. I slowed just enough to catch sight of the others. An Andalite, two wolves, and a bear, sprawled on the floor like they were taking a nap.

<Go!> Rachel cried.

I crossed the cavern and dove into the tunnel�s first half. I knew I was close. I could smell her shampoo.

I was close. Her footfalls thumped the tunnel floor. Faint lantern light filled the darkness. Then more.

<Stop!> I cried.

�Never!� she screamed.

I saw Taylor�s form, and then I saw beyond her. The sewer chamber was just yards ahead. Her lantern reflected off the pipeline�s polished steel.

I suddenly knew what she meant to do.

<No!> I lunged. Missed. I lunged again. Full feeling returned to my mouth.

�Arghhh!� she cried. I clamped down on her heel. Not hard enough to sever her foot, but hard enough for her to feel that I was in control. Shark teeth? Bear fangs? Neither comes close to inflicting the kind of agony a Taxxon inflicts.

�Worm! Slime! Get off me!� With her real arm, she punched my face. Only a distraction. Out of the corner of one eye I saw a flash - her fake arm, her fake fingers.

I released her foot, and twisted the upper third of my body so that it slapped her artificial arm.

Paralyzing particulates shot from her fingers. But not at me. They were wasted, flung at the far wall.

�Scum!� She was free and running for the pipeline. I revved my feet and shot forward.

�Stop right there!� she cried. �Come an inch closer and I�ll blow a hole through this steel.�

I froze.

<You said that once the tunnel was dug, we�d have twenty minutes to get away.>

�You believed me?�

 I lied. <You can�t blow a hole in that pipe because you know. You know that if we die in this explosion, you die, too.>

Her lips twisted into the now-familiar fiendish smile. Pure Yeerk and proud of it. �Wrong, Andalite. You forget that I am not bound to this body. I am the Yeerk inside. And a skull entirely replaced, bone by bone, by heat-proof, blastproof polymer protects me. This body will burn, but I will survive.�

I heard movement behind me. I glanced back. It was Rachel in the lead, followed by the others. Dragging their still partially paralyzed bodies out of the tunnel and into the sewer chamber.

<Get her!> Rachel cried. <Tobias, get her!>

Taylor�s smile broadened. She turned toward the pipeline. She extended her artificial arm.

<No!> Rachel yelled.

Taylor blew a hole clean through the metal. And in an instant, reality changed.

Fwooooosh!

A pressure wave of natural gas shot from the pipe. It ripped across the chamber and sent us

tumbling through the air. Taylor. Me. The others.

Tumbling �

Straight for the tunnel!

<Ahhhh!>

Taylor blew right past me, propelled by the gas, a swirl of blond hair and pink flesh. And she was laughing.

And that was the plan, all along.

# ? Jun 14, 2022 03:41

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

Welp.

# ? Jun 14, 2022 04:26

FlocksOfMice: Feb 3, 2009

They falling for it aside, this is one of the better written books overall I think. Taylor is a really, really good villain and her psychological combat with a traumatized Tobias is really strong and unnerving.

# ? Jun 14, 2022 05:46

kiminewt: Feb 1, 2022

I don't know why but I always enjoy it when the Yeerks single out one of the "bandits". Doesn't happen much outside of this and Ax unfortunately but reasoanbly.

It makes me feel as if Taylor thinks Tobias is doubly pathetic as he doesn't even speak with the regular arrogance and sneer of an Andalite (though I doubt she had many conversations with Andalites anyway). This shows she thinks he's probably the lowest rung of the team.

I also really enjoyed the mental image of Ax and Tobias standing shoulder together as Andalites.

# ? Jun 14, 2022 06:22

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Sorry, blowing up the Yeerk pool tonight. Post tomorrow.

# ? Jun 15, 2022 04:26

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

Epicurius posted:

Sorry, blowing up the Yeerk pool tonight. Post tomorrow.

Take pics

# ? Jun 15, 2022 04:47

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Visser Three in a towering rage, promising foul vengeance on whomstever removed the last letter from the YEERK POOL sign

# ? Jun 15, 2022 05:22

Zonko_T.M.: Jul 1, 2007; I'm not here to fuck spiders!

These cursed Andalite bandits keep drawing human genitalia in the host waste deposit center!

# ? Jun 15, 2022 06:48

WrightOfWay: Jul 24, 2010

Prank calling the Yeerk Pool and getting Chapman to ask if there's an I.P. Freely at the pool.

# ? Jun 15, 2022 15:07

Strategic Tea: Sep 1, 2012

# ? Jun 15, 2022 20:54

nine-gear crow: Aug 10, 2013

�Sir, Visser Two wants to know if our refrigerator is running.�

# ? Jun 15, 2022 21:12

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Jingle Bells, The Visser Smells....
<Do I smell, Chapman?>
"No, Visser."
<Then why do those Animorph bandits keep insisting I do?>

Chapter 22

quote:

FweeeeWOOOOOOOOSH!

The force of a fire hose. A hurricane.

<Ahhhhhh!>

We were shoved down the tunnel at breakneck speed. We slapped the sides. Slipped on slime. Gasped for air. We were absolutely powerless!

Dirt scratched my tender eyes, blinded me.

Bammm!

I slammed the dirt wall. It knocked the wind out of me so I couldn�t breathe, couldn�t think.

 Ax exclaimed.

<Grab onto each other,> Jake yelled. <Bite into each other. Anything!>

<No air!> Rachel gasped.

The tunnel was narrowing. The Yeerk pool was near. I was farthest down the tunnel, out in front. We were going to fly from a hole in the dome with me in the lead. We were going to burst from the opening. BASE jumpers with no chutes.

We were going to die.

It would end for me where it had all begun. That cavernous hell. In seconds, we�d be five blobs on the pavement, gobbled up by Taxxon guards.

Ba-BAMMM!

Marco slammed into my rump.

<Ugh!>

Jake plowed into Marco. Rachel plowed into Jake.

KA-bam!

Ax careened into Jake�s rib cage, crushing him. Crushing us all.

My legs, dozens of sharp sticks, scraped the tunnel sides. I stretched them out as far as they would open. Strained to make them catch hold.

<Can�t breathe!> Marco gasped.

Acute pain shot to my core. Momentum snapped off my legs. I was insane to think I could stop us.� It was like trying to stop a car traveling seventy by opening the door and dragging your foot on the pavement. Not happening.

But I had a hundred legs. And the tunnel was narrowing.

 I yelled. There it was. The red circle that glowed like a harvest moon. Coming nearer and nearer. It was now. Or it was never.

<Ahhhhh!> I cried, and dug in what legs I had left. They punctured the dirt, scraped the stone, snapped like twigs.

�Skreeeeeeyaaaaaa!� A shrill scream from the Taxxon. A primal yelp of despair.

But the legs were slowing me. They were slowing us!

Still, the force of the gas, of the others pressing against me - I�d explode! I was a balloon about to pop. My thin skin was being pushed to the limit �
But the pressure of the wall was slowing us down. I felt blood vessels fail, blood course into my eyes. My head was even with the Yeerk pool hole. It was all a blur. We inched forward, against our will. Sheer agony. The march toward death.

<Can � not � breathe,> Ax whispered.

Six inches, five inches, four inches �

Four inches and holding.

The pressure didn�t push us any farther. It eased. And then it disappeared.

No one said anything. I called to them. Their one-word answers came in gasps. We all needed air.

<Move, guys. Move.�> I said. <We have to get back.> I twisted my massive body up and around and only then did I realize that the Taxxon was less affected by the gas. My alien physiology let me breathe in the noxious environment.

<Lungs � burning!> Jake sighed.

Their bodies, dark forms in the dim, distant light from the Yeerk pool, straggled lethargically along the tunnel.

 Rachel said slowly.

<You have to!> I said. Marco dropped to the floor. The others stumbled like drunks. They weren�t going to make it.

The tunnel was slick with Taxxon slime. I decided to use it for the one thing it was good for.

<C�mon!> I roared, then I charged. I plowed into them and pushed them along. Slowly at first, then faster and faster.

My hunger reemerged.

There they were. Four weak, dying animals. Mine for the feasting. Their smells. Their warmth. It was the hardest thing I�ve ever done.

<They�re not food,> I chanted. <They�re not food.>

The legs I had left were on fire. My hunger was alive. I slid my friends along the tunnel with my big Taxxon head.

<They�re not food!> I screamed.

After far too long, the dirt gave way to concrete. It was the sewer chamber.

We�d made it.

Animorphs are friends, not food. But they should be fine as long as Tobias doesn't eat them.

Chapter 23

quote:

We were conscious. We were breathing. We were alive. Barely.

No one needed to say, <Demorph.> No thought had ever been stronger in my mind.

�The gas is off.� Those were the first words out of Jake�s mouth when he�d finished demorphing, the only words anyone managed to form. �How?� he whispered. He stood for a minute, numb and dazed. Incredulous. �How?�

Silently, we followed Jake up and out of the sewer chamber. He began to remorph to peregrine falcon. Marco, Rachel, and Ax followed his lead, went raptor.

<Let�s go,> Jake commanded.

There was only one place the gas could have been turned off.

The pumping station.

I got a funny feeling as we got closer to it. Flashing lights by the doors and on the roof doused the surrounding trees in red. I knew something was up, the way you do when a police car rockets past you on the street, no sirens, but lights flashing. There was definitely trouble.

The others landed behind the bushes where Ax and I had morphed earlier. They demorphed, crouching low as their bodies rose from the earth.

And even though I knew they were all exhausted, they slowly morphed again. Battle morphs. We weren�t taking any chances.

The plate glass door was shattered. A thousand shards sparkled on the sidewalk.

<Somebody charged this place,> I said. <Somebody wild.>

<Come on. Who�d break into a pumping station? No cash. No goods,> Marco said.

<Maybe their gas bill was too much to take,> Rachel answered.

The others stole along the perimeter single file, an absurd and unlikely circus troupe. I circled above. No one hiding in the bushes. No snipers posted on the roof.

<Weird,> I said. I landed on the pavement, morphed Andalite, and joined the others. We crunched over glass and stepped through what was left of the door frame. Moved into the building.

<Oh, man,> I heard Rachel say. <Oh, man!>

I stepped around her. My rear legs weakened.

Then I saw the bodies. Human bodies. Maybe half a dozen. Male and female. Suited to look like gas company workers.

Sprawled now every which way. They were alive barely. They�d obviously been on the losing end of one very fierce battle. None seemed conscious.

Yeerk slugs wriggled and writhed helplessly on the floor.

<Who could have done this?> Jake gasped.

 Marco added.

<Taylor,> Rachel said, her voice grim. <But no, that�s impossible. �Cause she was with us. This was her plan and she needed these people. Visser Three?>

I moved forward, stepping carefully over the bodies with my four legs. I heard a police siren wail in the distance and I knew. I knew they were coming here. Maybe real cops. Maybe Controllercops.

It didn�t matter. No time either way. We had to get out.

But I kept going. I kept going because before the siren wailed, I�d heard a noise. A sound of life farther on in the building.

<Tobias, we�ve gotta get out of here. We�re not going to figure this out,> Rachel said. <At least not now.>

I didn�t turn back. I moved into the guts of the building, where compressors and pumps that once hummed smoothly sat silent and immobile.

I followed the sound. There was a door to what looked like a little office. I peered in. And then I saw her, sitting with her elbows on a table, her head in her hands.

Cassie. Crying.

She had turned off the gas and saved our lives. She had done this.

<Cassie, it�s me.> She didn�t look up. She didn�t move. <Cassie.>

With delicate Andalite arms, I tried to lift her from the chair. She stood but was limp in my arms.

<C�mon, Cassie. We have to get out of here. It�s okay. Everything�s okay.>

Her sobs stopped. Halting half-gasps took their place. She turned in my arms, turned so that she stood and faced me. Her eyes, red and wet, stared up at mine. Salt streaks dried on her face.

�No,� she said. �It will never be okay.�

I mean, Cassie did say earier in the book that it was different if she had to fight for her friends.

# ? Jun 16, 2022 05:00

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 24

quote:

It was the next day. The sun beat down. And produced columns of rising hot air. I must have gone twelve minutes without flapping a wing. Rachel, too. Nature was giving us a free ride.

We were way up. So high. You can�t even see prey from that height. But what�s cool is that we weren�t the only birds up there. I guess true hawks need to get away, too, sometimes.

Why? I don�t know. Maybe they need the perspective. Maybe they need to feel that they�re not tied to the world of their meadow. Maybe they�re pushing the boundaries, seeing how high they can sail before the air gets too thin.

Or maybe they don�t know why they do anything.

<The beach?> Rachel called.

<Yeah. How about the cove?> We turned like fighter planes and pulled out of our ascent. The trees and hills raced toward us, the ocean frothed not far beyond.

I thought of the sinkhole where Bobby nearly drowned. The dirt flat where his father gripped him lovingly.

I spotted the pumping station as we descended. It was roped off by caution tape. Still buzzing with cops and investigators.

I thought of the last second in which I�d seen Taylor, blown through the tunnel, Barbie doll hair streaming. Her image remained but her voice was gone. Maybe just for now, maybe forever. Too soon to tell. The cove is the closest thing to a secret beach that we know about. It�s all jutting rocks and twenty-foot drops to the sea, so it�s not too popular with the regular beach crowd. You practically have to be a bird to get to it.

Rachel demorphed and I morphed to my human self. The sun was warm. The air was salty. We were together.

�There was no way we could have known,� she said, sensing my mood, knowing where my mind was. �We were acting on the best information we had.�

�I�m not sure,� I said. �Did you talk to Cassie? Did she tell you what happened?�

�Yeah. Jake took her home last night, but I stopped by this morning.�

�Well?�

�She contacted Tidwell because Jake said she could warn him. While we were digging the tunnel, Cassie talked to the Yeerk peace faction. Guess what Tidwell told her?�

I raised my eyebrows.

�Tidwell and all the peacenik Yeerks try to feed at the same time. They try to show up at the Yeerk pool together so they can exchange information and make plans.�

�We know that,� I interrupted.

�Right. But we didn�t know that they�d reorganized their feeding schedule. We didn�t know that they�d rescheduled so they�d predominate on Saturday afternoons.�

There was a long pause as I calculated just what that meant.

�Somehow Visser Three got the news? He was going to kill off all his opposition in one day!

The Andalite bandits. The Yeerk peace faction. Two groups, one plan.�

�Yeah. And Cassie thinks he wanted more than our lives,� she said. �She thinks Visser Three planned to pin the atrocity on the peace faction. That he was going to weaken them by frying all their hosts, then discredit them by making it look like they were responsible for arranging the gas explosion and for engineering massive loss of Yeerk life.�

�That sounds like the visser we know and love.�

�And if he sacrificed some innocent Yeerks along the way,� Rachel continued, �it would be a small price for a plan that would also, thanks to Taylor, annihilate us.�

�So Taylor was working with Visser Three all along. She pretended to be against him to get us to cooperate.� I took a deep breath over the pain in my chest. �After all the clues! All the gut feelings! I don�t believe I didn�t see more clearly. I should have looked at the bigger picture ��

�Hey. No matter what you think, Tobias, Taylor�s not your responsibility. Besides, how often is it possible to see the big picture, really?� Rachel said. �Things happen fast. You just have to make the best decision you can and then go for it. You know what? I�d do the same thing again, if I had to.�

�How can you say that?�

�With me, it�s about instinct. I knew we had to dig that tunnel. Turns out I was right, but for the wrong reasons. If we hadn�t gotten involved with Taylor, Cassie wouldn�t have known about the plan, wouldn�t have talked to Tidwell, wouldn�t have worried about us. But she did. And it opened up a course of events that couldn�t have occurred otherwise. It ended up saving the Yeerk peace faction. It was a good investment.�

�Cassie battled a bunch of humans. Alone. You�re saying that�s a good thing?�

�Of course not,� Rachel said emphatically. �But it was the lesser of two evils.�

I sat down on a rock slab. The waves crashed. The wind whipped. Rachel sat down next to me.

Maybe I was weak, but at least I was free. My choices were my own. No matter what.

Was it over for Taylor? Did she blow through the hole in the Yeerk pool dome? Lodge in a crevice of the tunnel till the gas pressure died? Catch a crag of rock and hang on? Did she live?

Would Taylor-the-girl ever live again?

Would I ever stop caring?

�You never really know how some things will turn out,� I said. A twig blew across the surface of a rock, swept along by the wind. I reached out to catch it. Rachel moved to stop it, too. Our hands collided gently. I took her hand. The twig blew past us, and fell into a crack.

�Yeah,� she answered, smiling. �There�s no real point in worrying about what you might have done. The past is the past, Tobias. Let it go.�

And there's the book. Depressing? Yes. Good? I think so. It's the definite question of "Are we trapped by our pasts? Tobias, the Taxxons, even Taylor (and at the end of the book) were all victims of trauma and fear. And how do you overcome that? How do you deal with the insecurity you have? Can you just let it go?

Tomorrow, we start a Cassie book, Book 43, the Unexpected. And it's....unexpected.

# ? Jun 17, 2022 03:43

disaster pastor: May 1, 2007

It's a good book, not a great one. It's a step down from Tobias's last book for me because the trap is so obvious, and because

OctaviusBeaver posted:

I agree with the point about her being right a lot in a way that doesn't feel earned. I think my main problem with it, especially later in the series, is that the other animorphs argue for a pragmatic choice and Cassie argues for a more moral choice, and then later it turns out that Cassie's ethical plan is also the best strategically.

Still, it's way better than some of the others that came out around here, like The Unexpected.

Epicurius posted:

Tomorrow, we start a Cassie book, Book 43, the Unexpected.

oh goddammit

but that also means that the book after next is a Big Deal!

# ? Jun 17, 2022 13:51

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Book 44-The Unexpected

Ghostwritten by Lisa Harkrader. Harkrader ghostwrote three Animorph books. She didn't do much before Animorphs, but afterwards, wrote a bunch of books, some of them for young children.....retellings of fairy tales and licensed Disney picture books, some young adult books, including a novel about a teenage vampire, some sports books, and a book about a been themed superhero, and some educational reference books associated with the now shutdown myreportlinks.com which was a kind of scammy site. The books didn't do much other than refer you to the website, which then referred you to free websites about the topic. It's kind of shady because the books didn't really add much value. Anyway, on to the first chapter.

Chapter 1

quote:

I swooped low.

This had to be it. Plane at the far gate. Two Marine guards, trying to look casual. Well, as casual as you can get wearing combat boots and a pistol strapped to your chest.

<Jake, I think I found it. Jake?> I circled, flapped my wings to gain altitude. <Rachel? Tobias? Anybody?>

An armored truck rumbled toward the plane. The driver stopped, showed one of the guards a clipboard, then backed up to the cargo hold. The rear of the truck opened. Two guys in hooded yellow coveralls climbed out. Pulled oxygen masks over their faces and unlatched the plane�s cargo door.

Okay. These guys definitely weren�t unloading souvenirs from Disneyland. If somebody was transporting a chunk of Bug fighter wreckage, it had to be on this plane.

I caught a thermal and rose above the airport. A baggage cart trundled across the tarmac. A jet screamed in for a landing. Guys in jumpsuits and headsets scrambled around, trying to keep the 747�s from mowing down the commuter planes.

And everywhere I looked - seagulls. On the roof, on the tarmac, against the fence. Seagulls are perfect cover. Part of the landscape, just like pigeons. Nobody even notices them. My own seagull morph blended right in.

Unfortunately, Jake, Rachel, Marco, and Ax blended right in, too.

I spotted a lone gull flitting back and forth beside a hangar at the far end of the runway. Beyond it, a red-tailed hawk sat perched on a chain-link fence.
<Tobias? Is that you?>

No answer. I didn�t really expect one. Thought-speak is sort of like a radio signal, and the hawk was too far away to get decent reception.
I pulled my wings back and soared toward the hawk - then banked and wheeled around.

A long black car shot from the hangar and sped toward the guarded plan. It swung around the Marines and screeched to a sideways stop in front of the armored truck, blocking it in. The car doors opened, and four men in suits got out.

I circled, flying as low as I could without drawing attention to myself. Below me, the oxygenmasked guys were loading a crate from the cargo hold onto the armored truck.

The suits strode across the tarmac. The leader, a tall guy with a bald spot, headed directly for the crate, the other three suits close on his heels.

�Sir. Step away from the vehicle.� The Marines weren�t quite as casual now. They planted their feet wide apart and reached for their pistols.

Bald Spot ignored them and poked his head inside the back of the armored truck. Either the guy was too stupid to be afraid of weird alien diseases, or he already knew the wreckage wasn�t dangerous. Which meant one thing. He was a Controller.

�I repeat, step away from the vehicle.� The Marines unsnapped their holsters.

�Relax, boys.� Bald Spot left the truck and strolled toward the guards. Flashed a badge. �CIA. We�ll take over from here.�

The Marines didn�t budge. �We�re not leaving our post, sir. We have orders.�

�Well, you have new orders now� - Bald Spot squinted at the two black stripes on the Marine�s collar - �corporal.�

�With all due respect,� the corporal answered, sounding anything but respectful, �we don�t take orders from � civilians.�

The Controllers glanced at each other.

Bald Spot nodded. �Fine.� He slid his badge into his pocket. �We�ll have a Marine colonel here in a few minutes.�

Yeah. They would. A Yeerk-infested colonel who would destroy the Bug fighter wreckage before NASA or the news media had a chance to get to it.

I needed a diversion. Had to buy some time. <Marines are wimps.>

The guards glanced sideways at one another.

�Did you say something, sir?� the corporal called out.

Bald Spot turned. �You talking to me?�

�Yes, I am. I believe you called us wimps, sir.�

Bald Spot frowned and turned away again. �You�re hearing things, son.�

The Marines shook their heads.

<Gutless weasels,> I said. <They act tough standing around an airport, but they�d run at the first sign of trouble.>

The Marines rolled their eyes.

<If the Pentagon wanted real men, they�d have called the Air Force.>

That got them. I could see the muscles of their faces knotting up. The corporal clenched and unclenched his fists.

�Suits,� he muttered. �Too bad I can�t leave my post.�

The other Marine, the one with only one stripe, shrugged. �Ignore them.�

Great. Marines with self-control.

The CIA guys were huddled beside their car, talking in low voices. Bald Spot pulled a cell phone out of his jacket.

I had to do something! Fast. <Jake, can you hear me? It�s starting to get ugly. I could use a little help.>

No answer. Where were they?

I scanned the scene. Below: two pumped-up Marines, four alien-infested CIA guys, and at least six guns between them. Above: an unarmed seagull.
Well, maybe not completely unarmed.

I flapped my wings to gain altitude. Bald Spot flipped open his cell phone. I zeroed in on my target. He punched some numbers. I dove. He pushed SEND, and I dropped my bomb.

Bird poop splattered over the phone and down one side of Bald Spot�s head.

�Aagghhhhhh!� He wiped at his face, then glared up into the sky. �Andalite!� he hissed as he hurled the phone to the pavement and pulled a pistol from his jacket.

Oooo-kaaay. Not exactly what I had in mind. I motored upward.

BAMBAMBAMBAM!

Bullets sailed past me. I searched for a place to hide. Something to shield me. Nothing. Empty tarmac and runway. I was a gleaming white target against clear blue sky.

BAMBAMBAMBAM!

I pumped my wings, darted up and back, trying to throw his aim off. It was all I could do. He wasn�t going to stop shooting. Until he hit me.

BAM!

One last shot. Then the bullets stopped. Silence. I spilled air from my wings and dove toward the runway.

�Drop your weapon, sir.�

The Marines! I thrust my wings forward and spiraled around. They were standing with legs outspread, gripping their pistols with both hands. The oxygen-masked guys dove inside the armored truck. Smart.

�Drop your weapon, sir,� the corporal repeated.

Bald Spot turned. �I don�t think so.� He extended his arm. �Here are your new orders, boys.�

Oh, God. <JAKE?!>

Ka-CHIK.

He cocked his pistol.

Ka-CHIK. Ka-CHIK. Ka-CHIK.

The other Controllers cocked their pistols.

For half a second Marines and Controllers stood frozen. Then - BAM! BAM! BAM!

Bullets flew. The Marines dove behind the plane�s landing gear. The Controllers dropped back behind their car.

Okay. Okay. Think, Cassie. You have to get them to stop shooting. You�ve got to keep them from killing each other. <JAKE, WHERE ARE YOU? RACHEL? I CAN�T DO THIS BY MYSELF!>

BAM! BAM! BAM! Choooong. Kachooooong.

Bullets sprayed off metal. I swung around the tail of the plane, looking for cover. An engine roared to life at the next gate. A baggage cart, lurching toward the plane!

The cart kept coming, full speed. It careened past a food service truck and ricocheted off a cargo bin. Fishtailed around the nose of the plane. Skidded to a stop between the Marines and the Controllers.

BAM! BAM! Kachooooong.

The baggage cart quaked. Suitcases erupted.

�Rrrrrooooowwwwrrr!�

And a thousand pounds of grizzly bear exploded from the rubble.

So at least we jump straight into the action without the "I can't tell you where I live...." beginning.

Chapter 2

quote:

�HhhhoooRRRAAWWRR!�

The bear bounded from the cart.

�Hhhhrrroooowwwrrr!�

Two streaks of orange and black shot past her - a tiger and a cheetah leaped over the CIA car and tackled two of the Controllers. The maniac baggage cart driver - a gorilla - swung down from the cab. A red-tailed hawk, swooped in from the top of the terminal.

Bet you�re completely confused now? Bet you�re thinking, This girl is completely nuts. The lights are on, but no one�s home. Don�t worry. I promise you�ll understand in a little while. Promise.

<Move over, Marines,> he said. <The zoo has landed.>

<We thought maybe - just maybe - you could use a little help,> Marco called, knuckle-walking across the tarmac.

<And the rest of us were looking like roadkill.> Rachel. Squinting her nearsighted grizzly eyes and bounding after Bald Spot. <We took a vote. We�re pooling our money and enrolling Marco in driver�s ed.>

Bald Spot turned. Leveled his pistol.

<Rachel! The gun!> I screamed.

She reared up on her hind legs. Pinned Bald Spot to the pavement with one swipe of her massive paw. Clamped her teeth around his gun and ripped it from his hand.

�You can�t win!� Bald Spot screamed. �We�ll destroy you!�

And then he was out cold. Courtesy of Rachel.

BAM! Kachooooong.

<Hey! Somebody tell the Marines to stop shooting. We�re on their side.> Marco hit the ground.

Tobias dove for cover.

Ax was locked in a deadly embrace with one of the Controllers. They rolled across the tarmac, human desperation pitted against sheer feline strength. I skimmed low toward the car.

<Cassie! Look out!>

BAM!

Jake leaped past me. Claws. Teeth. Gun metal. Blood.

I wheeled, looking for a place to land. I�d started this little fight, and now my friend were battling for their lives while I flitted about like some weird war-zone cheerleader.

I had to find a place to demorph. A place hidden from Controllers. I couldn�t let them see I was human.

Because yes, I am human.

My name is Cassie.

But you probably already figured that out.

You probably also noticed my life is a little abnormal. You know, the thought-speak. The alien spacecraft wreckage. The psychotic men-in-black gunning down my Animal Planet buddies at the airport.

My friends and I are Animorphs. Animal morphers. We can acquire the DNA of another animal, then become that animal. It�s the only weapon we have in our war to help save humanity.

And it�s a powerful one, but it has limitations. Ask Tobias. He�s a walking, talking owner�s manual for one of the major limitations. He stayed in his red-tailed hawk morph longer than the two hour maximum, and now he�s what the Andalites call a nothlit. He doesn�t have to morph a hawk. He is a hawk.

We also can�t morph directly from one animal to another. Which is why I couldn�t just go from seagull to wolf, my usual battle morph, right there on the tarmac. I had to become Cassie first, regular, human Cassie, and I couldn�t risk it.

Because morphing is not human technology. It�s Andalite technology, given to us by a dying alien, an Andalite war prince named Elfangor. The Yeerks think we Animorphs are all Andalites, and we�d like to keep it that way. If they knew we were human, they�d find us. They�d find us and our families and kill us. Or worse.

They�d slide Yeerks into our heads. They�d turn us and everyone we love into Controllers. We�d be entombed in our own bodies. We�d watch our hands destroy the planet. We�d hear our voices spew evil and hatred. And we�d be helpless to stop it.

A Yeerk. It doesn�t look like much. Small, gray, slimy. An overgrown slug. Blind, nearly deaf, no arms or legs. Like a brain without a body.

Which is why it needs your body. It squeezes through your ear canal and flattens out over the surface of your brain, burying its slimy self in every crevice, locking itself onto your memories, your knowledge, your emotions.

It takes over. You can�t run. You can�t scream. You can�t tell anyone what�s happening to you. And you can�t escape. You can�t even make plans to escape because the slug knows your thoughts as soon as you think them.

The Yeerks have already conquered the Gedds, the Taxxons, and the Hork-Bajir. Now they�re taking us. Humans.

And we�re trying to stop them: me, my best friend Rachel, Rachel�s cousin Jake, Jake�s best friend Marco, Tobias, and Ax, and Andalite, Elfangor�s little brother.

That�s it. Team Earth: a bird, an alien, and four kids. The only thing standing between you and total enslavement.

We do get help from the Chee, a race of androids hardwired for nonviolence. They�ve infiltrated the Yeerk organization, The Sharing, and feed us information when they can. But as far as physical battle goes, it�s just the six of us.

And at the moment it was only five.

I soared low, looking for a place to demorph.

BAM! Ka-chooong.

�Stay away!� A Controller backed toward the CIA car, holding his gun in front of him, waving it wildly at Tobias, at the Marines, at Marco.

Ka-CHIK.

Marco lunged.

BAM!

<Aaaaaahhhh!>

Blood oozed up through the coarse black hair on Marco�s arm. He charged anyway. Crushed the Controller against the car. Whammed him with one sledgehammer swing of his fist.

<Just for the record,> he panted, 

The Controller dropped to the pavement, unconscious.

Jake stood on another Controller�s chest.

Ax cornered a third Controller between two cargo bins. Whipped his tail. Flicked air. Let out a sound that wasn�t even close to �meow.�

<This appendage works well to balance the cheetah when it runs, but it is useless as a weapon.>

<You�ll have to settle for teeth and claws, Ax-man,> Jake called. <Too many people. We don�t need your blue-furred, four-eyed self on the cover of the National Enquirer.>

Ax responded by knocking out the Controller with a lightning-quick and very large paw.

Rachel ripped open the lid of a cargo bin. One by one, Marco dumped the Controllers inside, then flipped the bin over so the lid was against the ground.

The Marines were crouched behind the plane�s landing gear, watching, pistols ready but silent.

<That was almost easy,> said Rachel.

<Almost too easy,> Marco added.

Tobias and I circled overhead and dropped. <We got company.>

BAM! BAM! BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!

A line of men in black with automatic rifles began shooting from the terminal roof.

Oh, never mind. At least it's combined with action.

# ? Jun 18, 2022 04:17

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

OctaviusBeaver posted:

I agree with the point about her being right a lot in a way that doesn't feel earned. I think my main problem with it, especially later in the series, is that the other animorphs argue for a pragmatic choice and Cassie argues for a more moral choice, and then later it turns out that Cassie's ethical plan is also the best strategically. Real life isn't like that, making moral choices frequently puts you at a disadvantage vs people that don't, especially in war. It's a copout that the ethical choice also always happens to be the pragmatic one in a war of extermination.

I will comment on this a little bit, because it was brought up just recently, and say that sometimes the ethical plan is actually the more pragmatic one. There's this trope we see a lot of recently, the whole "hard men making hard choices" thing, You sort of see a resurgence in it after 9/11, and the real life debate over torture and extraordinary rendition and stuff like that, which got reflected in fiction. You see that a lot in 24, where the "good guys" engage in a bunch of torture, both physical and psychological. They're conflicted about it, but if they don't, the bomb will blow up the city, or the president will get assassinated, or whatever, so, regretfully, they have to do all this immoral stuff. We take that trope for granted now, but I'm not sure it's entirely true. And we've learned from the history of war that sometimes doing the morally better thing really is the wiser thing. Indiscriminate area bombing of civilians doesn't break their morale, it makes them more willing to fight. Killing enemy soldiers who try to surrender doesn't make enemy soldiers more likely to surrender, it makes them less likely to surrender. The reason that countries agreed to codes of war....to things like the Geneva Conventions, or bans on landmines or chemical weapon use, wasn't just because they wanted to be nice people, but because they realized that things like that made war more winnable, and easier on their soldiers and civilians.

# ? Jun 18, 2022 04:35

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Ah, the book so bad and pointless it made me stop reading the series because I thought "they are just spinning their wheels and never going to end it at this point"

then in the very next book they pull the trigger on the end game lol

Epicurius posted:

I will comment on this a little bit, because it was brought up just recently, and say that sometimes the ethical plan is actually the more pragmatic one. There's this trope we see a lot of recently, the whole "hard men making hard choices" thing, You sort of see a resurgence in it after 9/11, and the real life debate over torture and extraordinary rendition and stuff like that, which got reflected in fiction. You see that a lot in 24, where the "good guys" engage in a bunch of torture, both physical and psychological. They're conflicted about it, but if they don't, the bomb will blow up the city, or the president will get assassinated, or whatever, so, regretfully, they have to do all this immoral stuff. We take that trope for granted now, but I'm not sure it's entirely true.

IIRC not once in the entire run of 24 (at least to season 6 when I stopped watching) do they ever torture someone and, whoopsie, turns out they got the wrong guy.

I also think there's never or very rarely in real life been an actual scenario of the "ticking time bomb," because that's just not really how counter-terrorism works. If your intel is good enough to let you know there's going to be a bombing, it's good enough for you to make arrests long before it actually goes down to the wire like that.

# ? Jun 18, 2022 14:08

disaster pastor: May 1, 2007

Epicurius posted:

There's this trope we see a lot of recently, the whole "hard men making hard choices" thing, You sort of see a resurgence in it after 9/11, and the real life debate over torture and extraordinary rendition and stuff like that, which got reflected in fiction. You see that a lot in 24, where the "good guys" engage in a bunch of torture, both physical and psychological. They're conflicted about it, but if they don't, the bomb will blow up the city, or the president will get assassinated, or whatever, so, regretfully, they have to do all this immoral stuff. We take that trope for granted now, but I'm not sure it's entirely true. And we've learned from the history of war that sometimes doing the morally better thing really is the wiser thing. Indiscriminate area bombing of civilians doesn't break their morale, it makes them more willing to fight. Killing enemy soldiers who try to surrender doesn't make enemy soldiers more likely to surrender, it makes them less likely to surrender. The reason that countries agreed to codes of war....to things like the Geneva Conventions, or bans on landmines or chemical weapon use, wasn't just because they wanted to be nice people, but because they realized that things like that made war more winnable, and easier on their soldiers and civilians.

freebooter posted:

IIRC not once in the entire run of 24 (at least to season 6 when I stopped watching) do they ever torture someone and, whoopsie, turns out they got the wrong guy.

I also think there's never or very rarely in real life been an actual scenario of the "ticking time bomb," because that's just not really how counter-terrorism works. If your intel is good enough to let you know there's going to be a bombing, it's good enough for you to make arrests long before it actually goes down to the wire like that.

Yup, this is all pretty dead-on. As Jon Bois more or less goes into.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_P52G4Kyq5M

# ? Jun 18, 2022 14:40

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 3

quote:

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!

We dove between the cargo bins.

BAM! BAM!

The Marines fired back.

<Oh, this is good,> Marco said. <We�re getting it from both sides again.>

Sirens. Shouts.

Police cars screeched onto the tarmac, lights flashing, bullhorns blaring. Airport security guards streamed from the terminal.

<Jake,> I said. <They�re headed right into the line of fire.>

<Let them go. Visser Three won�t want that many witnesses. The Controllers will have to back off.>

Back off. Yeah. Except they weren�t doing that. Bald Spot and his buddies were rocking the cargo bin, trying to turn it over.
<Uh, Jake?>

<Yeah. I know.>

They weren�t going to back off. The police were Controllers. So were the security guards. It was an entire Yeerk army.

BAM! Chooooong.

A bullet ricocheted off one of the cargo bins.

<What�s the plan?>

Jake crouched, his tail whipping. <A battalion of Yeerks against the six of us. Not good.>

<Plus the two Marines,> I said. <And the guys in the armored truck.>

<Yeah, don�t forget them.> Marco grunted. <They�ve been such a big help already.>

<But we can�t just leave them.>

<And we can�t leave without that chunk of Bug fighter,> Rachel pointed out. <That�s why we came. We have to get it out of here before the Yeerks destroy it.>

<No,> Jake said. <We can�t risk it. There�s no way we can get it without getting ourselves killed.>

<There is a maintenance ramp past the next gate, Prince Jake,> said Ax.

<Good. We can demorph inside. Okay, guys, mission aborted. Let�s go. Stay close to the building. Go, go, go. And Ax? Don�t call me - oh, forget it.>

Jake leaped between the bins and streaked toward the ramp. Marco and Ax bounded after him.

�GGGRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOAAAWWWWWW!�

Rachel thumped the cargo bin one last time, then barreled toward the ramp.

Tobias swooped low under the eaves of the terminal building. <Cassie, come on. You can demorph inside.>

BAM! BAM! �Ahhhhhhhhh!�

The Marine with one stripe on his collar grabbed his shoulder and collapsed to the pavement. I could see blood seeping form under his hand.

Tobias circled. <Time to go, Cassie!>

<I�m right behind you.>

Tobias soared toward the ramp. I circled close to the terminal.

The injured Marine crawled toward the armored truck. The Controllers were ignoring him. But the other Marine, the corporal, was still crouched behind the plane�s landing gear, firing at the enemy. And the enemy was firing back.

One of the policemen held a bullhorn to his mouth. �Visser Three is getting impatient. Eliminate the human so we can get to that cargo hold.�

Eliminate. The Controllers didn�t care about the Marine. They just needed him out of the way.

He was the only thing standing between them and the wrecked Bug fighter.

I had to get him to stop shooting!

<Hey! Marine. This is a friend. Hold your fire!> I yelled at him in thought-speak. <Stop shooting and STAY DOWN!>

The Marine hesitated for a split second. He glanced around, frowned, then tightened his grip on the pistol.

BAM!

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!

Automatic rifle fire answered back.

The Marine dove behind the wheel, crouching low, ready to fire again. He�d be killed in a matter of minutes, no question.

I circled the plane�s tail, spilled air from my wings, and dove. Uner the plane. Past the Marine.

<Corporal! Hold your fire!>

The Marine edged back against the landing gear. He cocked his head and listened, obviously trying to figure out where the voice had come from.

<Back off!>

I circled.

<This is one fight you can�t win.>

He looked up. And blinked. �Okay, this is totally nuts.� He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wheel. �A bird is talking to me - AND I�M LISTENING.� He opened his eyes and shook his head. �This is crazy.�

He leaned away from the landing gear and swung his pistol toward the Controllers.

It was suicide.

He aimed.

I dove.

I hit metal as the Marine pulled the trigger.

BAM!

<Ahhhhhhhhh!>

Pain shot through my side. I spiraled, one wing flapping, the other hanging dead at my side. I saw the corporal�s pistol skitter across the tarmac in a whirl of plane, sky, and pavement. I pumped my good wing, straining to steady myself. The ground spun upward. Gray. Hard. Tilting.

Closer.

Then the spinning just stopped.

Not to be too critical of this chapter, but it's very much one of those bullet chapters....as in, single line paragraphs. Maybe it's just me, so feel free to disagree with me here, but I don't think Animorphs does fight scenes very well. To be fair, they're very hard to do well in first person writing. If you're in the fight, you're caught up in your individual fight and aren't really in a position to understand the whole battle. But there are very few actual combat scenes in Animorphs I like.

Chapter 4

quote:

I flopped on the tarmac. My wing lay mangled and torn, shattered by the pistol�s recoil.

�That bird! Did you see the bird? It was an Andalite!�

Bald Spot. I couldn�t let him find me. I scratched and writhed and flapped my good wing, and somehow clawed my way under the baggage cart. Bits of gravel embedded themselves in my bloody feathers. Pain seared through my body.

Demorph. I had to demorph.

�Where�d it go? Where�s the seagull?�

The shouting grew louder. Closer. Shoes scuffed past the cart, inches from my head.

Concentrate, Cassie, concentrate.

I focused on my human form. Morphing is unpredictable. It never happens the same way twice. But I�d learned to control it a bit. I knew what I had to do.

Human. Human Cassie arms. I felt my wings growing, the damaged one becoming stronger as my human DNA slowly replaced the seagull DNA.

Cuuurrrreeeeeeeeeeek.

My shoulder bones cracked and widened. Wings narrowed and shot downward, the size of human arms.

Schluuuuup.

A thumb, then four fingers, pale and bumpy like a plucked chicken, shot from the tip of each wing. Rib bones melted and reshaped, growing to my normal size. Legs straightened and lengthened, the claws softening into ten toes on two human feet.

And then I stopped morphing.

I was still more gull than girl, a weird mix of fluffy wings and pure horror. The Blair Muppet Project. But I didn�t look human. Not even close.

I inched out from under the baggage cart. Controllers were storming the cargo hold of the plane, closing off the entire area. Tobias and the others were long gone, but I could see the maintenance ramp they�d escaped into at the next gate.

And I had a clear shot. Nobody was paying any attention to the giant mutant seagull crouched besides the baggage cart.

I pulled myself up and ran, full out, almost human arms still covered in feathers, almost human feet slapping the pavement under scaly Big Bird legs, my own short dark hair looking more than a little strange on my giant seagull head.

I veered in toward the terminal building, stayed beneath its shadow. Past the first gate. Followed the curve of the building. The next gate was dead ahead.

�There it is!�

Bald Spot! Behind me.

�Stop the Andalite filth before it gets away!�

The ramp was just a few yards ahead. I could make it. I was going to make it!

Ka-CHIK.

A glint of gun metal. A police Controller stepped out from behind a cargo bin, directly between me and the ramp. I turned. Bald Spot circled wide to cut me off. I turned again, back to the baggage cart. Controllers raced toward me on the other side. I was trapped. Me and the baggage cart, surrounded by Controllers.

I whirled. No way out.

No - one way out. The Marco way.

I scrambled into the cart, turned the key, and floored it.

The cart jerked, stopped, then lurched forward at full throttle, throwing me back against the seat. Bald Spot dove to the pavement as I shot past. I grabbed the wheel and tried to steer, a grotesque seagull-like thing the size of a kid, screeching through the airport on two wheels.

I sped under the wing of the plane and swerved, sideswiping the landing gear. Luggage spilled from the back of the cart. I swung the wheel around and headed out toward the open tarmac. If I got out of there alive, I�d never again give Marco a hard time about his driving. He was Jeff Gordon compared to me.

Sirens. Flashing red and blue lights.

I whipped my bird head around. Two police cars behind me. In seconds they�d be within firing range.

I jerked the wheel and rocketed toward one of the planes. Under the wing. Around the wheels. Between two rows of cargo.

I hurtled around a food service truck and glanced back. I�d gained a little ground. The police cars were a lot bigger than my suitcase-mobile. They swung wide of the jet, while I plowed straight underneath.

I headed toward the next gate, and then the next. In. out. Under. Around. Getting the hang of the steering thing. The Controllers roared past.

A 747, looming ahead! Not a problem. I gripped the wheel and sped straight toward it. Under the engines, around the front wheels. I could see the corner of the terminal building as I whipped past.

Shot out from under the nose of the 747 -

Straight onto open tarmac! Two police cars barreled toward me. In a split second I�d plow into them, head-on.

I jerked the wheel and skidded into a tight U. Tires squealed. More suitcases flew. I looked back. A garment bag flapped onto the windshield of one of the police cars. Nice. The car screeched one way, then another, as the driver leaned out the window, trying to grab the bag off the windshield. The other car veered toward the runway to keep from getting creamed.

Okay. That bought me a little more time. But I couldn�t race through the airport forever. I had to find a place to finish demorphing, then morph something that could get out of there.

Ahead, a set of roll-away stairs pushed up to the door of a jet. Guys in orange jumpsuits dragging buckets and a shop vac down the steps. A cleaning crew! The plane was probably empty. I raced toward it.

A siren wailed behind me.

The cleaning crew had reached the tarmac. Started to roll the steps away from the plane. I turned the wheel and tried to find the brake. The cart skidded sideways. The cleaning crew scattered, buckets flying as they dove for cover. I hammered the pedals with my feet, but the cart wouldn�t slow down!
Ssscccrrrrnnnnnnncchhhh-KUUUNNNKK.

I crashed into the stairs. My bird-girl body snapped forward against the steering wheel, then back against the seat.

Oh. Ow. I swallowed. Brakes would have been easier, but the head-on collision had worked.

No time to catch my breath. I bolted from the baggage cart and up the steps the impact from the crash had jerked the stairs several feet from the door of the plane, but I didn�t let a 12-foot drop stop me. I hurdled the gap and landed with a soft thunk on the thin carpeting inside the plane.

Police lights flashed through the door of the cabin. I peeled myself from the floor and ran.

WHUMP!

The entire plane shuddered as the roll-away stairs banged against the cabin door. I tore down the aisle, looking for a place to dimorph. I could hear shouting below me, footsteps clanking up the stairs. �This way! Over here!�

�The Andalite�s inside!�

I�d reached the back of the plane. Hide. I had to hide!

I whirled. Seats. Baggage compartments. A door handle! I lunged for it and pushed. The bathroom.

I fell inside and bolted the door.

Ok, I liked The Blair Muppet Project.

# ? Jun 19, 2022 03:56

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 5

quote:

Demorph. Fast!

I could hear Controllers thundering onto the plane.

Focus, Cassie, focus. You have to reverse this morph.

I felt my body becoming heavier as my hollow bird bones thickened into solid human skeleton. My feathers darkened and dissolved, the plucked bird skin underneath smoothing into brown skin.

Cuuurrrrrruuuunnnch.

My jaw pushed out from my remolded skull. Tailbone shrank up into my spine. I was almost human now, fully human, except for the enormous seagull beak jutting from my face.

�Where�d it go?�

�The cockpit! Check the cockpit.�

I held my hands over my ears and concentrated.

The beak softened and melted into my face. Two lips. A nose. I was human. But I couldn�t stay that way.

I dropped into the cramped space beside the toilet and the sink. The metal of the sink was so cool and smooth. I lay my face against it. If I could just stay there a minute and -

�The Andalite has to be here. FIND IT!�

I jerked my head up. Snap out of it, Cassie. I fixed my mind on fly morph. Sploooot. Sploooot.

A pair of antennae shot out my forehead.

Pop. Pop-pop. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.

Stiff black hairs popped out like zits all over my body. Two tissue-thin wings emerge from my back.

�Nothing in the cockpit.�

�Or the galley.�

I could hear Controllers tearing through the cabin of the plane. Footsteps. Shouts. Ripped seat cushions.

Relax, Cassie. Think fly.

A pair of black nubs pushed out from my sides, writhing into long hairy fly legs. My own arms and legs thinned and hardened. Hands and feet shriveled into sticky claws.

The door handle rattled. �It�s locked!�

�Good. We�ve found the Andalite scum.�

Concentrate. Fly. Small. SMALL. Speed it up!

The floor zoomed up at me as my body shrank to the size of a bread crumb.

BAM! BAM! Clink. Ka-Clink.

Bullets flew through the thin metal of the door and ricocheted off the sink. The sink that now towered above me. The sink that shattered into thousands of sinks as my human eyes bulged out into compound fly eyes.

Ssshhhllllluuuuuuulp.

Bones dissolved. Skin darkened and hardened into a shiny, crisp coating over the bulging fly body.

Sssssuuuuuummmmp. Sproot-sproot.

My lips sprouted down into the fly�s snout-shaped proboscis. Two spongy bumps erupted at the end. I was fly now. Pure fly. A fly in fly heaven. A bathroom. Each tiny black hair on my body quivered in delight. Through the stench of disinfectant cleanser, I could detect the glorious aroma of -

BAM! BAM! Ka-Clink.

Whoa. Time to get a grip on the fly instincts. I buzzed into the little space between the rim of the toilet bowl and the seat. As soon as the door opened I�m zoom out.

BAM! Ka-Clink.

�I can shoot the lock off.�

�And give the Andalite a chance to escape?�

�But it�s gotta be dead. The door is Swiss cheese.�

�And you think that Andalite let us shoot him? Idiot! It probably morphed an insect. We�ll have to gas it.�

Gas! I buzzed around the tiny bathroom, looking for a way out. The sink! I could fly down the drain. I shot into the metal basin.

Tlink.

<Agggghhh.>

A stupid airplane sink with a stupid sliding metal plate over the drain! A plate no housefly could ever hope to budge.

I dove toward the baseboard, looking for a crack. A tiny crevice. Anything. There had to be a way out.

Pssssssssssssssss.

My fly hairs quivered in panic. The Controllers were shooting bug spray in through one of the bullet holes.
The bullet holes. Yes!

I darted toward the highest hole, closest to the ceiling. Perfect fit. I zipped through.

Air. Fresh air.

�A fly!�

Thwack!

A giant pink hand slammed against the ceiling.

�Missed!�

Just barely, buddy. I shot sideways and down, close to the windows. They�d have to lean over the seats to reach me.

Thwack! Whack! Wham!

Hands, barf bags, rolled-up magazines, somebody�s deliciously smelly sneaker. I dodged and darted, buzzing toward the door. Feeling fresh air blowing toward me.

Pssssssssss. Pssst-pssst-pssssssssssss.

Bug spray! Thick. Sticky. Toxic.

Fresh air. Follow the fresh air!

Pssssssssssssssssssss.

The spray clung to my legs, my body, my antennae. Every hair on my body was coated. My wings! I couldn�t move my wings!

Daylight. I was out.

And falling. Like a missile. Then a rumble - a baggage cart? - and a gust of wind. It swept me sideways. I tumbled. Dropped. Tried to right myself, but couldn�t tell which way was up. The world was a fog of darkness.

Whap.

I hit something and slid down.

�Where�d it go? I saw it fall.�

Voices. Footsteps. Echoing through the fog.

Bigger. I had to get bigger or the bug spray would kill me. I focused my mind on my human form. I could feel my body beginning to swell. My mind emerged from the fog.

I was in the baggage cart. The thing I�d hit was one of the few suitcases that hadn�t flown out during my wild chase through the airport.

Footsteps shuffled past the cart.

Had to get out of there. I couldn�t completely demorph to human. I�d be too big. I couldn�t morph back to fly. There was enough bug spray clinging to my body to kill me.

I waited till the footsteps passed, then rolled out the other side and stumbled toward the next gate, too heavy to fly, too groggy to coordinate all six legs into a decent trot. Once again, a disgusting mutant creature straight out of the late, late show. I collapsed next to a conveyor belt.

�It has to be here. Spread out. FIND IT!�

I pulled myself onto the conveyor belt and burrowed under a golf bag. The belt rolled upward. The golf bag and I rolled with it. Then a lurch, and the golf bag flew through the air. I clung to the bottom with my sticky fly legs.

<Unnnnph.>

I landed on my back. The golf bag landed on top.

Thump. Thump. More suitcases. Crushing me in the darkness.

I had to dimorph. Had to get out. I tried to form a mental picture of myself. My human self. Cassie. But I was a jumble of wings, claws, skin, bulging eyes.

Skin. I focused on the skin. Human skin. Smooth. Swirling. Fading.

Fading to black.

RIP Cassie, I guess.

Chapter 6

quote:

�Uhhhnn.�

Frozen. Stiff. A frozen, stiff, throbbing ache. I swallowed. My throat was stuck shut. I lay on my back - at least, I thought I was on my back - on the corner of something very hard.

Something else, something heavy, was crushing my chest. And something steely and cold jabbed my cheek. My legs � did I even have legs?

All I could hear was dull, relentless droning. My brain throbbed in time with the noise.

What was that noise, anyway?

I pushed the cold, hard thing away from my face. Curved. Metal. Felt like a golf club.

A golf club?

Oh. No. It came back to me in a blur of bullets, bug spray, and a mental picture of my last known form.

Basketball-sized half human with an extra pair of legs, stiff black hairs spiking out all over my body, and antennae.

How long had I been out? How long did it take to get this cold? It had to be more than two hours. What if I was a mutant fly-girl nothlit?

�I can�t even look,� I moaned.

Moaned? My voice! My. Voice. My human voice.

I pushed against the golf bag. More suitcases tumbled down on top of me. I dug my way out. The light in the cargo hold was dim, but I could see my own body. Two legs, both ending in feet. Two arms. Two hands. Regulation, human-issue skin.

I touched my back. No wings. My head. No antennae.

I fell back against the frozen pile of luggage. �Thank God. Thank you, thank you, God.�

Except -

I was in the cargo hold of a plane, nearly frozen, dying of thirst, and starving. MAN was I starving, jetting off to � where?

I checked the tag on the golf bag: SYD. Grabbed the suitcase next to it: SYD. Rummaged through the pile of bags. SYD. SYD. They all said SYD.

�SYD? What does that stand for?� I mumbled. �South Something Dakota?�

And how long would it take to get there? I rubbed my bare feet together. We could only morph skintight clothes, so all I was wearing was a flimsy black leotard. I blew on my hands. My breath came out in solid white puffs.

How many things could go wrong in one mission? It was only supposed to be a little surveillance at the airport. A bit of insurance.

Ax and Marco had found something interesting with their new Web-watch program. Information about a piece of alien spacecraft that had washed up on the beach a few hundred miles up the coast. A piece that sounded very much like part of a Yeerk ship. A Bug fighter.

Okay, so most of that Internet alien stuff is posted by paranoid nutcases. But like Marco said, you never know when a paranoid nutcase might be telling the truth. I mean, if I posted something about our little adventure at the airport, what would I sound like?

Besides, Marco and Ax found this piece of information on a closed Defense Department site in an encrypted, top-secret memo to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. It takes way more than a security clearance and a secret code to defeat Ax.

The chunk of wreckage was being flown down in a commercial airliner, then transported to a Marine base, loaded onto a stealth jet, and flown to a NASA lab in Washington.

It was just what we were waiting for, proof that the Yeerks were here. On Earth. In America. If the government knew about the Yeerks, we wouldn�t have to fight alone. The secret Yeerk invasion would no longer be a secret.

But if we knew about the chunk of Bug fighter, you could bet the Yeerks knew about it, too. They wouldn�t want the wreckage tested. They wouldn�t want NASA scientists to discover it was made from a metal not found on this planet. And they sure wouldn�t want the media to spread the story. Because the Yeerks don�t want all-out war. They want to slowly, gradually infiltrate the human race so that by the time anybody notices what�s been happening, it will be too late. Visser Three will have already won.

We were pretty sure they�d show up at the airport. And the Chee confirmed the story. The Chee couldn�t get all the details, but they knew top-level Controllers in The Sharing had been in closed door meetings, going over flight plans and airport blueprints.

They were all worked up - we were all worked up - over a hunk of metal. We could�ve been killed. We could�ve been captured. And the two Marines. They could be dead. Or worse. Because of me. Because of my stupidity. Because I wanted to save a hunk of metal. Which I hadn�t saved anyway.

I pushed all the hard bags away and made a little nest of soft-sided suitcases. The cargo hold was full of huge metal crates marked �Boeing - Turbine PW400.� My pile of luggage was sandwiched in between two of them.
I
found two garment bags and wrapped one around my legs and the other around my shoulders. I wanted to unzip the bags and put on whatever was inside, preferably a parka. I wanted to rip open all the luggage and find something to eat.

But I couldn�t. I was already a stowaway. I didn�t want to be a thief, too.

Right. I could almost hear Marco�s voice: Let�s see, Cassie, you pooped on a Controller, tossed two Marines into gun battle with evil aliens, probably got them and the armored truck guys captured or killed, and hijacked a baggage cart. Now you�re worried about swiping snack crackers?

I sniffed. Through the dust and must of the baggage I could smell oranges. Sweet, tangy. I leaned out into the cargo hold. The orange smell grew stronger. On the other side of the metal crate I spotted a stack of boxes strapped to a pallet. They were all the same size and they were all
marked ORANGES - NAVEL.

So many boxes. So many oranges. Would anyone really notice if one were missing? I burrowed deeper into the stack of luggage and tried to ignore my hunger. And thirst. And the icy burning in my lungs every time I took a breath.

I needed to think. The plane would stop. Eventually. I�d just get off and find a phone. Yeah, no problem. Just wait for somebody to open the cargo door, sashay down the conveyor belt, call my parents, and tell them to pick me up in South Dakota. Or South Yemen Desert. Or wherever the heck I ended up.

I sank back between the two crates. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn�t I spend one single day worrying about something normal, like embarrassing teenage acne or the pop quiz I probably failed in algebra?

Well, the getting out wouldn�t be so hard. I could morph a bird and fly out. Osprey this time, stronger and faster than a seagull. And then I could figure out where I was and how to get home.

Okay. That was the plan. I started to feel a little better. Morphing would solve the getting-out-ofthe- airplane problem. Not the hunger. Or the thirst. Or the fingers and toes that were already turning slightly blue.

Except - wait a minute - yes, it could. I had the perfect cold-weather morph. Of course! I felt warmer already. My head even quit throbbing.
And then I realized why.

The droning had stopped. The engines were silent. I waited for the plane to plummet toward

Earth. But it didn�t. It was perfectly still. Motionless.

Then -

ZZZZzzzzzzzzttttttttt!

So we all know what airport code SYD stands for.. But why is Cassie putting all the guilt on herself for this? Everybody wanted this mission, it sounds like, not just her. Sure, it got screwed up and ehe was separated, but it's not all her fault.

# ? Jun 20, 2022 02:57

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

More amusing to me is how consistently squeamish they are about ever stealing anything. a) I'm sure Coles or Woolworths stocks will manage to recover from a single missing orange, and b) you are saving the world, you are morally entitled to requisition necessary supplies sometimes.

# ? Jun 20, 2022 14:20

OctaviusBeaver: Apr 30, 2009; Say what now?

Meanwhile Marco takes out enough mailboxes with his truck to equal the GDP of a small country.

# ? Jun 20, 2022 17:35

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

It sounds to me like the ghostwriter heard "Cassie is the moral centre of the group and is very reluctant about the things they do" and ran with it.

# ? Jun 20, 2022 20:08

Mazerunner: Apr 22, 2010; Good Hunter, what... what is this post?

I do appreciate that this group of controllers were actually fairly competent?

# ? Jun 20, 2022 22:40

Capfalcon: Apr 6, 2012; No Boots on the Ground,
Puny Mortals!

Mazerunner posted:

I do appreciate that this group of controllers were actually fairly competent?

Yeah, give the guy who realized, "Hm, maybe the enemies can change their shape into any animal didn't let themselves get shot and maybe turned very small instead?" a promotion.

Also appreciate that all Yeerks are just walking around with bug spray now, as it's a very simple thing to do that closes off a lot of escape routes.

# ? Jun 21, 2022 00:01

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

freebooter posted:

More amusing to me is how consistently squeamish they are about ever stealing anything. a) I'm sure Coles or Woolworths stocks will manage to recover from a single missing orange, and b) you are saving the world, you are morally entitled to requisition necessary supplies sometimes.

At first I thought it might be some kind of 90's moral panic thing, where you can't be perceived as promoting shoplifting. But then they steal plenty of cars and chop off plenty of hands and do a bit of light genocide, and that seems to have been okay. So I don't know.

# ? Jun 21, 2022 00:14

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Tree Bucket posted:

At first I thought it might be some kind of 90's moral panic thing, where you can't be perceived as promoting shoplifting. But then they steal plenty of cars and chop off plenty of hands and do a bit of light genocide, and that seems to have been okay. So I don't know.

I can definitely see the editors frowning on behaviour they were worried younger kids might be more likely to mimic, as opposed to grand theft auto or xenocide.

Either that or it's just a very American "Property Crime Is The Only Crime" vibe. The only car they've ever stolen is Cassie's dad's own pick-up, I think?

# ? Jun 21, 2022 02:56

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Get ready, Australia tomorrow.

# ? Jun 21, 2022 04:19

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Epicurius posted:

Get ready, Australia tomorrow.

I anticipate a nuanced, challenging depiction of my homeland in this ghost-written book for 90's american schoolchildren. Scholastic's deadline of eleven days will surely add to its exquisite poignancy

# ? Jun 21, 2022 04:24

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

I'm like 90% sure the plot of this book was reverse engineered from running low on exotic animals and needing to put a kangaroo on the cover

# ? Jun 21, 2022 05:07

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

Tree Bucket posted:

I anticipate a nuanced, challenging depiction of my homeland

It's fiction, not alternative history :kiwi:

# ? Jun 21, 2022 05:40

Andrew_1985: Sep 18, 2007; Hay hay hay!

I hope Cassie morphs into a prawn who has to avoid a BBQ.

Just lean into the stereotypes.

# ? Jun 21, 2022 06:21

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

They already had Schwarzenegger in the books, why can't she get wrestled to the ground by Steve Irwin after morphing croc?

# ? Jun 21, 2022 06:42

Tunzie: Aug 9, 2008

As an Australian who has not read this book, I am quietly terrified.

# ? Jun 21, 2022 06:47

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

I'm most alarmed by this series' love of onomatopoeia combined w/ kangaroos.
We're getting BOINGS, aren't we?

# ? Jun 21, 2022 06:56

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 7

quote:

ZZZZzzzzzzzzttttttttt

A blinding green light flashed through the cargo hold!

For a split second I could see the plane�s steel bones through its metal skin. The green light penetrated suitcases and bags. Metal crates were suddenly transparent, showing huge engine parts inside.

Then the flash was gone. Black spots danced over my eyeballs.

I blinked. What was it?

But I knew: Yeerks. Somehow they�d figured out I was on board.

And I knew they weren�t finished. They wouldn�t X-ray the plane, then just go away. I pushed the luggage and tried to stand.

�Whoooaaaa.�

I thumped sideways into one of the crates. My legs were dead. Not just stiff from the cold. Completely lifeless from the knees down. The green light. But why did it only affect my legs?

I leaned against the crate.

The crate. Of course. My legs had been sticking out into the open cargo hold, but the rest of my body had been shielded by the engine parts inside the crate. Pure dumb luck had saved me.

So far.

I dragged myself back into my nest of luggage. Above me the passengers and crew were probably frozen in place. They didn�t have huge turbofans protecting them from the green light. But they�d be okay. The Yeerks weren�t interested in them. They�d thaw out, never knowing time had elapsed, never knowing they�d been paralyzed and unconscious.

Never knowing aliens had seized the plane in midflight.

Whhooosh!

The cargo door slid up. I peered around the edge of the crate.

A Bug fighter, hovering outside, holding the plane in place with some kind of tractor beam. The repulsive form of the Taxxon pilot filled the Bug fighter�s windows. An enormous centipede with a row of knife-edged teeth rimming the round mouth on top of its head. Its four globby eyes jiggled like red Jell-O.

My first instinct was to morph small. Hide.

�And be killed by a can of Raid? I don�t think so.� Rachel�s words. If Rachel were here, that�s exactly what she�d be saying. �They�re ready for small. They�re expecting you to run and hide. Don�t give them what they want, Cassie.�

The port of the Bug fighter rippled open. Two seven-foot aliens stood poised to leap into the plane�s cargo hold. They glanced down at the miles of empty space between them and the plane, then turned and gestured toward the Taxxon.

They were Hork-Bajir, storm troopers of the Yeerk army. Feet of a T-rex. Blades of a roomsized Veg-O-Matic. Deadly blades that covered their elbows, wrists, knees, tails, and raked forward like daggers from their serpent heads.

They were armed with bug spray.

Okay, Rachel. So small wasn�t the answer.

I had to think fast. What would Jake do? He�d � Well, he wouldn�t have gotten himself stuck in this cargo hold in the first place. Neither would Tobias nor Ax. Or even Marco. They were too smart.

Too careful.

And Rachel? Smart, yes. Careful, never. This was exactly the kind of suicidal mess Rachel loved. And I knew what she�d be saying: �Surprise them. Morph something big. Fight back.�

Win. Right. Against how many?

Two. This time Ax�s voice echoed in my head.

Voices in my head. Definite sign of mental illness. Those golf clubs must have hit me harder than I thought.

But the voice made sense. A Bug fighter isn�t that big. Cramming those two Hork-Bajir in there with the Taxxon pilot was already pushing it. No way anything else would fit. Get rid of them, and I�d be safe.

For a while.

The Taxxon was angling the Bug fighter closer to the cargo hold. The Hork-Bajir waited, bug spray in claw.

�Okay, Rachel,� I whispered. �I�ll fight to win.�

I edged back between the crates and concentrated on the most powerful morph I possessed. My shoulders bulged, up and out, joining the hulking muscles of my body. I felt my legs growing stronger, longer, thicker. Felt. Yes. The new DNA threw off the paralyzing effects of the green light.

Cuuuuuurrrrrrrruuuuuuunnnch.

Bones cracked and re-formed as my knees reversed, bending forward now instead of backward. My hands and feet thickened into paws the size of catchers� mitts. Claws shot from each toe. The lower half of my face pushed out into a snout, tipped by a leather plug of a nose. My ears slid upward on my bulging skull. My human hair stiffened, hollowed, lightened to transparency, and spread to cover my body with fur.
My massive body. I was huge. Powerful. Unafraid. I hunkered down in the dim light between the
two crates. Ka-lunk.

The first Hork-Bajir leaped into the cargo hold. He peered through the darkness, then motioned toward the Bug fighter.

Ka-lunk.

The second Hork-Bajir lumped on board.

I could smell their musky stench, hear their talons clicking against the metal floor. My nose quivered. My ears twitched.

�GRRRAAAAAAAAAAWWWWRRRRR.�

I reared up from the crates. The Hork-Bajir froze.

I didn�t blame them. I was a bear. A polar bear. One of the most deadly creatures on Earth, when it wanted to be. I�d seen a polar bear sunbathe. I�d also seen a polar bear kick a grizzly bear�s butt.

�GRRRAAAAAAAAAAWWWWRRRRR.�

I lowered my girth against one of the metal crates and gave it a shove. It skidded toward the Hork-Bajir.

�HURR GAFRASCHF!� They dropped their spray cans and turned toward the Bug fighter.

Not in time.

Thunk.

The crate rammed into the Hork-Bajir, knocking them backward like a pair of bowling pins. They tumbled out into space, followed by the crate of engine parts.

�AAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhh� .�

Their cries spiraled into silence.

I turned toward the Taxxon. Its Jell-O eyes bobbed.

Its claws tore at the Bug fighter�s instrument panel.

Pffffffffffmmmmpp.

Another flash of light, orange this time. The airplane�s engines roared to life. The Bug fighter veered away and down.

WWWHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOSSSSHH.

Suction knocked me to the floor! The Bug fighter�s tractor beam must have been pressurized, and now the pressure was gone. My fur felt like it was being ripped from my skin. Bags flew across the cargo hold, slammed into the wall, and shot into space. Cords ripped loose. Oranges smashed against
the wall. The huge crates of airplane parts skidded toward the opening

I lunged for a cargo net. It ripped loose from its metal brackets and whipped out into the clouds. I grabbed at the wall, the floor, something, anything! My claws scraped against metal. Thuuuuud.

I slammed into a crate. And clung to it as it slid toward the open door.

So no Australia yet, but at least we discovered the Yeerk's one weakness....wooden crates.

Chapter 8

quote:

Crrrrreeeeeeeennnnnnnkkk.

Metal against metal. The crate skidded across the floor of the cargo hold. A suitcase burst open as it flew past me. Shirts and underwear flapped out into space.

I had to get the door closed! I dug my claws into the corners of the crate and reached one paw toward the ceiling. The suction nearly ripped off my front leg. I braced myself. The edge of the door was almost in reach. Another inch.

Crrrrreeeeeeeennnnnnnkkk.

The crate skidded forward. My paw brushed the edge of the door. I leaned and stretched.

Clannnnnngggkk.

<Ahhhhhh.>

The golf bag shot past, pummeling me with clubs. I felt the door slipping from my grasp. I dug my claws in and pushed. The door started to slide. Then -

The crate spun. I spun. Toward the opening! My front leg twisted, pulled. I could feel - could hear - tendons and muscles ripping. My claws broke free and scraped along the door.

<Nooooooooooo.>

My paw hit something solid. The door handle. I dug in and pulled with every muscle in my body. The door slid forward and down.

Shhhhoooonk.

It latched shut. The whirlwind of luggage stopped. Boxes and suitcases dropped to the floor. I collapsed against the wall of the cargo hold. Pain burned through my shoulder, numbing my front leg.

But I was okay. Okay.

Yeah. For now. But I knew the Taxxon pilot didn�t leave because he was scared. He left to get reinforcements. The Yeerks would be back.

Back and ready to party. Oh, brother. Now Marco was in my head. Telling bad jokes.

I rolled to my feet. I needed to be ready. My bear body lumbered to the center of the plane, limping on three good legs. I surveyed the cargo hold: big, roomier now that half the luggage was flying through the clouds. A total wreck now that the other half was strewn all over the floor.

There had to be something here I could use, something besides my remarkable talent for making a bad situation worse.

I plodded through a heap of mashed oranges. That heap could�ve been me, a big mound of mashed bear that had crashed to Earth. I shuddered. My fur rippled. Pulverized polar bear. I stared at the oranges.

I rolled back on my haunches and licked the juice from my paws. They�d check, of course.

They�d send more Bug fighters and more Controllers. They�d rip through the cargo hold from one end to the other, dousing every inch with pesticide.

But what if they didn�t find me? Wouldn�t they assume I�d been sucked through the door? That I�d joined the golf clubs in a mangled mess below?

Sorry, Rachel, but big wasn�t the only way to fight back. As long as I was shielded from the green light, and big enough to survive the bug spray, all I had to do was hide.

I raised up on my hind legs and pawed along the ceiling. Nothing. Plodded around the cargo hold, checking the walls and the floor, from back to front. Nothing but sheet metal and rivets. And then I saw it, at the front of the hold, half hidden behind a crate. My big weapon against alien invaders. A zipper. A thick canvas panel was set into the wall, and along the edge ran a big, heavy-duty zipper. I jabbed a claw into it and tugged. Presto. An opening. I nosed the canvas aside.

It was some kind of control room. Lights, switches, and computerized gadgets lined the walls. I pushed my polar bear bulk inside. The room was about my size. I swung around. On the far wall was a ladder.

And at the top of the ladder, set into the ceiling, was a hatch with a lever in the center. I reared up and pulled the lever. It turned. I nudged the hatch with one paw. It inched up. Light streamed through the crack around it. I could hear the sound of voices and clinking cups. Passengers.

I settled the hatch back into place, left it unlatched, and plodded back into the cargo hold.

My plan was taking shape, but none of it would work if I ended up frozen by the green beam. I picked four engine crates and shoved them, one by one, toward the canvas, heaving them into a circle next to the zippered opening.

Then I crouched beside the cargo door and scraped my claws along the floor, digging deep gouges in the metal. I clawed similar gouges in the door itself, from the handle to the bottom edge. I sat back and admired my work. It definitely looked like the bear had been sucked from the plane while pulling down the door.

Good. I was ready.

I wanted to stay in morph. The bear was calm. Fearless. And warm. Almost too warm. But polar bear was too big for what I had planned.
I concentrated on my human form. Bones and muscles crunched and sloshed as the bear�s bulk began shrinking, rearranging. Paws became hands and feet. Fur faded into skin. The pain in my shoulder shriveled to a pinprick, then vanished.

I was Cassie. Regular human Cassie, sitting on the cold metal floor of the cargo hold, about to pass out from hunger. Well, from hunger, fright, and exhaustion. But food would definitely help. And warmer clothes. My morphing outfit just wasn�t cutting it.

I glanced around. I�d already lost most of the luggage. What was left lay in shreds around me. I threw off my guilt and began rummaging through suitcases.

Shorts. Tank tops. Bikinis. Oh, yeah, this stuff would keep me warm. Where were all the parkas? I pried open an ancient square-cornered suitcase. Inside was a sweater. A man�s cardigan. The elbows were threadbare, and the whole thing reeked of mothballs, but it was a sweater. Packed under two bottles of prune juice. Ick

I rolled the bottles aside. The juice sloshed, wet and cold. I was thirsty. Too thirsty to be choosy. I picked up the juice bottles and put them in a little pile with the sweater. I felt kind of bad. Somewhere on this plane was an old man who�d probably end up cold and constipated before long. But thirst was stronger than guilt.

I closed the suitcase and continued my search, gathering more clothes and what little food I could find. I unzipped a sports bag, and a cell phone fell out. My heart leaped. I flipped the phone open and punched ON. Nothing. SEND, END, CLEAR, OPERATOR. Still nothing. Not even static. I tossed it back into the bag.

I uncovered a hiking pack, the kind Boy Scouts use, with a sleeping bag strapped to the bottom. I untied the bag and dragged it into the space between the circle of crates with the rest of my loot.

I rolled the sleeping bag out on the floor of my little fort, put on my Mr. Rogers cardigan, and laid out my feast: prune juice, half a roll of breath mints, and an entire unopened box of Slim-Fast bars.

I slid into the sleeping bag and fluffed a bathrobe into a pillow. It was almost cozy. Almost like camp. Space camp. Complete with evil aliens who were probably rocketing back toward the plane, preparing to attack.

I bet Cassie went to Space Camp.

# ? Jun 22, 2022 03:02

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

The real victim of this chapter are the poor bastards who are going to have to account for a couple crates of engine parts vanishing midflight. Someone's going to lose their job.

# ? Jun 22, 2022 03:08

FlocksOfMice: Feb 3, 2009

It really takes me out when they talk about the knees bending backwards, still. It's such a bad misunderstanding of anatomy and it's my per peeve apparently.

# ? Jun 22, 2022 03:30

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# ? May 24, 2024 07:08

Capfalcon: Apr 6, 2012; No Boots on the Ground,
Puny Mortals!

Epicurius posted:

.
Chapter 8

I bet Cassie went to Space Camp.

Out of any of the Animorphs, Marco seems like he'd be most interested, but it seems too "uncool" for him to admit. Cassie is 100% a summer camp at the lake and cabins kind of kid to me.

Comrade Blyatlov posted:

The real victim of this chapter are the poor bastards who are going to have to account for a couple crates of engine parts vanishing midflight. Someone's going to lose their job.

I can see post war a medium sized law practice setting up shop for people who lost property or had job issues related to things like that.

# ? Jun 22, 2022 03:33

The Something Awful Forums > Archives > Comedy Goldmine > Let's Read Animorphs! The Whole Series! Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges

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