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Comrade Blyatlov
Aug 4, 2007


should have picked four fingers





Capfalcon posted:

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.

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.

"I'm telling you, they were inventoried pre-flight and the crates were there."

"What is this?! Are you saying that, I dunno, some UFO flew up, froze everyone on board, stole the parts and then hosed off without trace?! This is as clear-cut as inventory theft gets, and you aren't walking away on this one!!!"

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Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice

Capfalcon posted:

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.

"Were you or someone you loved injured in a Yeerk related accident? Have you suffered property damage or job loss? Do you show any of the following symptoms: Earache, locked-in syndrome, audio hallucinations, cravings for oatmeal, or animal attack? If so, you may be entitled to compensation. At Edriss and Esplin, we fight for you, not the big insurance companies, and we get you the compensation you deserve."

<Foolish humans! When you are slaves of the Great Yeerk Empire, you will no longer desire material wealth! All you need will be provided for you. But until that day comes, why not get what you are entitled to?>

Epicurius fucked around with this message at 04:17 on Jun 22, 2022

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

Qantas' flawless Rain Man reputation for safety and security finally ruined

Tree Bucket
Apr 1, 2016

R.I.P.idura leucophrys

freebooter posted:

Qantas' flawless Rain Man reputation for safety and security finally ruined

Is this book early enough for it to be Ansett? Might explain why they folded, actually

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

Tree Bucket posted:

Is this book early enough for it to be Ansett? Might explain why they folded, actually

"Competition from Qantas and a succession of low-cost airlines (Impulse Airlines and Virgin Blue), top-heavy and substantially overpaid staff, an aging fleet, and grounding of the Boeing 767 fleet due to maintenance irregularities left Ansett seriously short of cash, losing $1.3 million a day.[1]"

Oh Cassie... what have you done...

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Chapter 9

quote:

ZZZzzzzzzzzttttttttt.

The green flash! I bolted upright. The engines were quiet. The plane had stopped.

Tssssseeeeewwww. Sssssssssssssss.

I sniffed. Bug spray! The Yeerks were shooting some kind of pesticide missile into the cargo hold.

The smell was getting stronger. I threw off the sleeping bag. Prayed I had enough time.

Tssssseeeeewwww. Sssssssssssssss.

I scrambled over the crates and through the opening in the canvas. Zipped it shut and swung up the ladder. Ka-lunk.

I heard the first Hork-Bajir leap in the cargo hold. Its tyrannosaur claws clicked across the metal. Ka-lunk.

A second Hork-Bajir. Then -

Thump.

Another sound. Softer. Something else had landed in the cargo hold, something besides a Hork-Bajir.

I’d reached the top of the ladder. I pushed on the ceiling hatch. It didn’t budge! I jerked the lever. It was unlatched, but it wouldn’t open. A voice, a woman’s voice, coming from the cargo hold: “The Andalite could still be on board. Search every inch!”

A human-Controller. That softer sound had been a human-Controller leaping onto the plane.

I pushed on the hatch again, quietly, firmly. It inched up. I could see a sliver of light. But the panel was heavy. Something was on top of it, holding it down.

The woman’s voice again: “We’re showing a slight movement on the sensors. Keep searching.”

Sensors?

I glanced around. The control room was wide open. No place to hide. I had to get up into the cabin! Get up, hide, and stop moving. I hooked my elbow around the top rung of the ladder, braced my feet, and gave the hatch a shove, using my legs for leverage.

The panel inched up. I wedged my shoulder against it and pushed. Another inch. Up. More light.

Then it broke free. I lunged through the hold. The panel fell to the side with a thud.

CLANGGGKK-CRUNNNNCH.

A crash of dishes and metal.

“The Andalite!”

I bolted through the opening. I was in an aisle, directly under the feet of a flight attendant who’d been paralyzed while serving coffee. Her beverage cart must have been parked on top of the hatch. It had crashed into a passenger and was now tipped sideways, two wheels still spinning in the air.

“Upward movement! The sensors show upward movement. To the front of the hold. NOW!”

I leaped to my feet.

“GO!”

“ANDALITE HAUT!’

I could hear the Hork-Bajir below, ripping through the canvas. They were too big to fit through the opening, but they were armed.

Tsssseeeeeeewwwww! Tsssseeeeeeewwwww!

Dracon beams seared through the hatch.

I grabbed a pot from the flight attendant’s hand and poured still-scalding coffee down the hole.

“AHHHHHHH!”

I raced down the aisle.

Tssssssseeeeeeewwwww!

A Dracon beam exploded into the cabin behind me.

I had to hide. And stay still. Any movement would give me away. I could morph something small - squirrel, skunk, bat - but I had to find a place to hide! Where?

Not the bathroom. They’d definitely check this time. Not the baggage compartments or the cockpit. There had to be someplace! I whirled. A plane full of passengers stared at me with unmoving eyes.

The passengers. Yes! I could pretend to be one of the frozen passengers. Hide in plain sight.

I dove toward an empty seat.

Oh, yeah, that’d work. A barefoot girl in a leotard and cardigan. Blended right in.

Tsssseeeeeeewwwww! Tsssseeeeeeewwwww!

Dracon beams blasted through the floor, widening the opening.

Cccccrrrreeeeeeeeeaaaaaaankkkk.

Metal ripped.

I grabbed an airplane blanket off the guy in the next row and threw it over my body.

Tssssssseeeeeeewwwww!

A Hork-Bajir burst into the cabin.

Scalded by hot coffee...that's not good. Not much else to say about this chapter.

Chapter 10

quote:

A second Hork-Bajir followed, and then a woman, the human-Controller, in running shoes and a warm-up suit.

“The movement has stopped.”

She looked like a gym teacher. A gym teacher carrying a big-game rifle under one arm. In her other hand she held something that looked like a Game Boy.

I kept my eyes forward, unblinking.

The gym teacher studied the gadget in her hand. “Not even a blip. Our clever Andalite is hiding.”

She swung around to face the Hork-Bajir. “FIND IT.”

The jetliner had two aisles and three banks of seats. The Hork-Bajir each took an aisle. Started to rip open baggage compartments, fire Dracon beams under the seats.

“Stop shooting, you idiots!” The gym teacher swung her rifle toward the Hork-Bajir. “You’ll kill us all! Besides, our orders are to bring the Andalite back alive. Damaged, perhaps. But still breathing. If it dies” - she cocked her rifle - “you die.”

I tensed. I couldn’t let them find me. No matter what happened, they couldn’t take me alive.

Tobias had been captured, and I knew some of the horror he faced. The physical torture, the mind games, the hallucinations.

He didn’t talk about it much. Tobias was strong. Tough. Hardened by his time as a hawk.

But they’d almost broken him.

If the Yeerks could do that to Tobias, what chance would I have? How could I keep our secrets?

If they captured me, my friends would be toast. Sure, in some weird way maybe I’m the biggest risk taker, bigger even than Rachel. But torture?

I fixed my eyes on the seat in front of me. Was aware of the Hork-Bajir ripping down the aisle again. Ransacking overhead bins and shoving frozen legs aside to search under the seats. I counted the rows between him and me: four.

Three.

Two.

Didn’t breathe.

The Hork-Bajir shoved his Dracon beam under the seat in front of me and swung it from side to side. He pulled out a woman’s purse and two carry-on bags. Dumped them in the aisle.

“NOTHING.”

I nearly choked on my own spit.

Seven feet of bladed nightmare towered above me, so close I could feel the warmth of his skin, his rank breath puffing down on my face.

My skin prickled. Goose bumps. I prayed the Hork-Bajir didn’t see.

Slaaamm!

He threw open the luggage compartment over my head. Tore through the bags, then bent down to check under my seat. He gave my legs a shove. I toppled over onto the chunky guy next to me. My blanket started to slide. One bare foot slipped out.

The Hork-Bajir didn’t notice.

He tossed the carry-on bags into the aisle. Snorted and straightened to his full height. His elbow blade sliced past, an inch from my ear. Then he turned to the row behind me.

The breath I’d been holding slid from my lungs.

But I couldn’t relax, not even a little. The human-Controller still stood at the front of the cabin, watching, waiting.

My eyeballs burned. I needed to blink.

I heard a door bang behind me. A toilet lid slammed.

“Andalite not here.”

“Fine. We’ll check up front.” The human-Controller glanced once more at the passengers, then turned toward the cockpit door.

The Hork-Bajir charged past me up the aisle.

I allowed myself to breathe. And swallow. Once they entered the cockpit, I would escape. Somehow.

The human-Controller slid the door open and started to step through. Then she stopped and turned, slowly, her eyes narrowed.

I froze.

“The Andalite bandit could be under our very noses.” She gazed from passenger to passenger. “Set your beams on low and see if anybody jumps. Remember - capture, don’t kill.”

She stepped into the cockpit. The two Hork-Bajir adjusted their Dracon beams then each started down an aisle.

Tsseew.

The Hork-Bajir in my aisle zapped a businessman in the front row. The businessman didn’t move. Tsseew.

The woman next to him.

No reaction.

The Hork-Bajir worked his way toward the back of the plane, blasting each passenger’s arm.

Tsseew! Tsseew!

The stench of charred flesh burned my nostrils.

The passengers sat motionless. They couldn’t feel the jolt. The burn. The pain that knifed through their bodies.

But I would.

I’d been blasted by Dracon beams before. I would feel the pain, and I would react. No matter how hard I tried, how much I steeled myself, I would react.

I could keep myself from screaming. Maybe. But the slightest flinch would give me away. A blink, a jerk, even a quick breath.

The Hork-Bajir moved toward me, passenger by passenger, row by row.

I was trapped.

I'm sure Ansett wasn't helped by the fact that its passengers suffered mysterious arm injuries.

Epicurius fucked around with this message at 02:39 on Jun 24, 2022

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

A spokesman insisted that all 425 passengers had already suffered second-degree burns before boarding and that "over-zealous" American security procedures at LAX were the likely cause

Fuschia tude
Dec 26, 2004

THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

Yeah, is the implication that the plane is doomed to crash anyway so who cares about the passengers? Has Animorphs suddenly turned into John Varley novel (and reallllllly bad film adaptation) Millennium?

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Chapter 11

quote:

I swallowed my panic and tried to think. It was too late to morph. The Hork-Bajir would see the movement. He’d be on me in one leap.

I watched.

The Hork-Bajir in the other aisle worked fast. He was about three rows ahead of my Hork-Bajir. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, working on the aisle directly across from me. He fired, watched for a reaction, then moved on. He was behind me now, out of view.

The Hork-Bajir in my aisle moved closer. Leaned over the row in front of me and fired.

Tsseew!

He watched.

Tsseew!

He waited.

Tsseew!

Nothing.

He turned to my row.

I froze. I had a chance. One chance. But I had to time my moves perfectly.

The Hork-Bajir leaned over me. His elbow blade whipped past my face. He aimed his Dracon beam at the guy next to the window.

I raised my hand behind him, slowly, steadily, holding my eyes straight ahead, the rest of my body motionless.

Tsseew!

As the Hork-Bajir fired, I pushed my hand against his back.

He jerked at the touch, then slumped forward, as lifeless as the passengers around us. I was acquiring him, absorbing his DNA, and he had fallen into the acquiring trance. He wouldn’t stay that way long, but if I were quick and quiet, it might be long enough for me to escape.

The Hork-Bajir swayed. I saw his hand relax, saw the Dracon beam balanced on his fingertips. I reached for it.

Too late!

The Dracon clattered to the floor. “ANDALITE!” the other Hork-Bajir shouted.

I dove.

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

The Hork-Bajir above me exploded into nothing.

I inched backward on my belly.

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

The blast incinerated the seat beside me.

I’d landed on the other Dracon beam, and now I grabbed it.

Ka-lump.

The Hork-Bajir leaped over the frozen passengers in the middle seats. His claws dug into the carpet less than a foot from my face.

I aimed.

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

The Hork-Bajir vaporized in a cloud of black smoke.

I stared at the Dracon beam in horror. I’d only meant to stun him! The weapon must have knocked to full power when it hit the floor.

I leaped to my feet. Not the time. Had to get away! I raced toward the front of the plane, sideswiping the overturned coffee cart and hurdling the hole in the floor. I couldn’t go back down through the hatch. I’d be trapped. The Bug fighter pilot would see me trying to escape through the cargo door.

There was only one way out, and I had to reach it before -

“What’s going on out here?” The human-Controller stepped from the cockpit. “Did you find the-”

I stopped dead.

She stopped dead.

I glanced toward the passenger door. It was halfway between us.

“How very clever.” The Controller raised her rifle. “Morphing a child to throw off suspicion.”

She aimed. “It almost worked.”

I was still holding the Dracon beam. It would get me out the door. Easy. I gripped the handle and slid my finger onto the trigger.

But it was on full power. One blast would eliminate her from the planet.

I couldn’t pull the trigger.

I had to distract her.

“You can’t shoot me,” I said.

“Oh?” she laughed. “Watch me.”

I swallowed. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Visser Three wanted the Andalite bandit taken alive, but if you explain to him how a simple airplane search spun out of control, forcing you to kill me, I’m sure he’d understand.” I shot a glance at the door handle, then at the rifle leveled at my head. “He’s an extremely nice person.”

The human-Controller hesitated.

It was all I needed. I lunged, wrenched the door handle, and pushed. It swung open easily. No suction. The tractor beams were keeping the plane pressurized.

Still clutching the Dracon beam, I dove into space.

Sure, she's fine with killing two Hork-Bajir controllers, but not a human-controller....

Chapter 12

quote:

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!”

Flying is incredible. Riding the thermals, feeling the lift beneath your wings, soaring through the endless blue of the sky.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!”

Falling headfirst from two miles up, with no wings and nothing resembling a parachute - not as fun.

Two Bug fighters hovered on either side of the plane, their pressurizing beams trained directly on the fuselage. I dove straight down between them.

One Bug fighter faced away from me. The other was partially hidden from view by the plane.

The pilots didn’t see me blow past.

Wind pummeled my face and drove the Dracon beam into my chest. I gripped the weapon in one hand and held my arms and legs out, spread-eagle style, to slow the dive. My cardigan billowed out above me.

I had to morph! Something fast. With wings.

Osprey.

I concentrated on the bird’s form. Caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Using my hands and feet as rudders, I angled around for a better view.

It was a Bug fighter, the one that had been hovering outside the cargo door. It pulled away from the plane, swung around, and dove. The Taxxon pilot’s hideous body bulged against the windshield as the spacecraft bore down on me.

I judged the distance between him and me and between me and the solid earth that was rushing up toward us. I could finish the morph and dive, maybe losing him near the ground.

But he’d see me. He’d see me morph directly to osprey, and he’d know I was human.

That little news flash would probably get him promoted to Visser Four.

And get my friends sentenced to death.

I shuddered. Those were my choices: Die. Or kill my friends.

Or -

There was another way to eliminate the problem. I slid my finger onto the Dracon beam’s trigger. And that was to … eliminate the problem. I pulled my hands together above my head, gripped the weapon, and aimed. TSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!

The windshield shattered. The Taxxon burst like a melon, spewing its guts across the sky. The Bug fighter spiraled out of control, a flaming missile spinning toward Earth.

Ka-PLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH.

It exploded. The blast ripped the Dracon beam from my fingers and knocked me upward and back in a shower of glass and metal.

I was spinning now, end over end. Sky. Clouds. Earth. Clouds fading away. Earth looming larger. Had to get control! Fast.

I closed my eyes and focused. Wings, talons, feathers. But mostly wings. Please give me wings.

Bones popped and crunched. My shoulders wrenched back. Legs jerked forward.

Sploooot! My nose and mouth shot out, the skin hardening into a beak.

I felt the cardigan puff up around me. I flapped to be free of it.

Flapped. Yes! I opened my eyes. The cardigan whipped from my shrinking body. I had wings. Or the beginnings of wings. A pattern of lines appeared on my skin, like a tattoo that swept across my body then burst into full-fledged feathers. Osprey feathers. My wings lifted. I rose on a pocket of warm air only a few feet above the sparse brush below. Floated for a moment to gain my bearings, then spilled the air from my wings and swooped toward Earth.
The ground was red and barren and endless. I soared low over the scrub, looking for landmarks. A town. A road sign. Even a road. Something to give me clue where I was.

Pffffffffffmmmmpp.

An orange flash.

A wave of fear swept through my bird body.

Shuh-ROOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMFF.

The sound of a jet, above and behind me.

I circled. The plane roared away from me across the sky. The single Bug fighter remained, hovering. My osprey eyes could see the gym teacher crammed in beside the Taxxon plot. She waved her arms and pointed. Down. At me.

I whirled and shot along the ground, weaving in and out between scraggly bushes.

The shadow slid over me.

TSSSSSSSEEEEEEEW!

I wheeled. There had to be someplace to hide. Something in this barren desert that would shield me.

TSSSSSSSEEEEEEEW.

Red dirt exploded around me.

I swerved. I could feel the strength drain from my wings. My osprey body was built to glide and soar, and the endless pumping so close to the ground was wearing me down.

I skimmed low, over a clump of grass, under a bush, around a scrawny tree - - and out into space.

I banked. It was a ravine, narrow and deep, a dry creek bed gouged into the flat red earth. I flew

in close to the wall of the creek bed, darting along under an overhanging of rocks and scrub. A shadow darkened the ravine, then disappeared.

TSSSSSSSEEEEEEEW!

An explosion, further up the creek bed.

I pushed my wings forward. Lowered my talons. Landed on a rocky outcrop.

The shadow passed again, slipping over me in the opposite direction.

TSSSSSSSEEEEEEEW!

A blast in the distance. They’d lost me.

The wall of the ravine was pitted with small hollows. I chose a deeper on and demorphed. I crouched in the hollow and took a deep breath. Human again, but not for long. I could hear the Bug fighter blowing craters across the desert. But my mind focused on something else. I closed my tired eyes and concentrated.

Elbows and hips scraped against rocks as I shrank to a microscopic dot. My body flattened. Bones dissolved. An extra pair of legs sprouted from my armor-plated body. Piercing tubes shot from my mouth.

I was a wingless, bloodsucking parasite, blind and ravenous.

A flea.

I burrowed into the sand and waited.

So we've hit Australian soil. And dug into it.

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

I'll take this moment to point out that flying from LA to Sydney and ending up in the red desert of the Outback is a bit like flying from Sydney to LA and ending up in Kansas.

disaster pastor
May 1, 2007


freebooter posted:

I'll take this moment to point out that flying from LA to Sydney and ending up in the red desert of the Outback is a bit like flying from Sydney to LA and ending up in Kansas.

Look... geography was an elective, not a required course, and research is hard.

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice

freebooter posted:

I'll take this moment to point out that flying from LA to Sydney and ending up in the red desert of the Outback is a bit like flying from Sydney to LA and ending up in Kansas.

Trust me. It's going to get worse when you find out where in the Outback she is.

Comrade Blyatlov
Aug 4, 2007


should have picked four fingers





Epicurius posted:

Trust me. It's going to get worse when you find out where in the Outback she is.

Is it Ayers Rock/Uluru?

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice

Comrade Blyatlov posted:

Is it Ayers Rock/Uluru?

You'd think she would have gone for that, because it's probably the most famous Outback location, but sadly no. It's someplace near a fictional aboriginal settlement in the Northern Territory, though.

Tunzie
Aug 9, 2008
It's only a little off course...

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice

Tunzie posted:

It's only a little off course...



It took time to shoot all those people in the arm...

WrightOfWay
Jul 24, 2010


They left the bug fighter on cruise control at max speed while the tractor beam was turned on.

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

My favourite fictional Outback moment is in Mission Impossible 2, when Tom Cruise and his team are running an operation in Sydney, and set their surveillance headquarters up at a sheep station somewhere out in the desert. Like if the FBI decided to run an operation in LA out of a shack next to the Grand Canyon.

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Chapter 13

quote:

The ground trembled. Another Dracon blast. And another.

I couldn’t hear them. Fleas don’t have ears. But I sensed each tremor with every molecule of my body. Grains of sand the size of garbage trucks shifted around me.

But the couldn’t hurt me. Unless the Yeerks fired directly on top of me, I was safe.

For two hours anyway.

I burrowed deeper into the sand. The flea’s instincts weren’t hard to control. Basically it has only two: Find blood. Eat. And once it figured out there wasn’t any blood in this little sandpile, the flea brain was pretty quiet.

My own brain, however, was on overload.

I’d been running and running and fighting and running and mostly screwing things up since … Since when? How long had it been since I’d casually drifted above the airport, watching for a top-secret shipment? Years, it seemed. Another lifetime. Somebody else’s lifetime. But it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. Twelve maybe? Fourteen? Fourteen horrible hours? Horrible. Right.

Horrible is getting to school and finding out you left your homework on the bus, your boyfriend is dumping you, and your socks don’t match. This was beyond horrible. This was … There wasn’t even a word for it.

An image pushed itself into my head. Two Hork-Bajir, staring at me in helpless terror as they tumbled backward from the cargo hold. Their screams echoed through my brain.

They didn’t deserve it. Yeah, Hork-Bajir look like death on two legs, but without a Yeerk in their heads, they’re a simple species, innocent and trusting. And those blades? To a Hork-Bajir, a free Hork-Bajir, they serve one purpose: to strip bark from trees. For food. Hork-Bajir are vegetarians. Gentle, nature-loving vegetarians.

And I’d killed four of them in less than a day.

The two in the cabin of the plane had been an accident. I hadn’t actually pulled the trigger on the first one, and I’d only meant to stun the second. Still, if I hadn’t been there, they’d be alive. And what about the two Hork-Bajir in the cargo hold? Not an accident. I had meant to kill them, and I did.

Just like I’d meant to kill the Taxxon.

I could almost hear Rachel: “Puh-leaze, Cassie. Taxxons are willing Controllers and pure cannibals. That pilot would’ve gobbled up his own splattered guts if he’d had a mouth left to do it with. Don’t waste your sympathy. Or your guilt. Somebody had to die, you or him, and you chose him. End of story.”

Yeah, the end of a story that shouldn’t have started.

If I’d made even one good decision, one smart move, in the last twelve or fourteen or however many hours, none of this would have happened. Bald Spot wouldn’t have gone nuts. The Marines wouldn’t have started shooting. I would have bailed when Jake gave orders to abort the mission. And I wouldn’t have fallen unconscious in the cargo hold of a plane, left with no choice but to kill or be killed. I’m not trying to be some kind of martyr, or say that I’m always a screwup. I’m not. In my world, making hard choices is part of the deal. Sometimes I’m right, sometimes I’m wrong. Sometimes I just can’t tell, even when the mission is over and we’ve all come out alive, at least. Leave the Animorphs. Come back. Trust Aftran, the Yeerk. Trust her again. Take responsibility for the never-ending, always unfolding consequences of those decisions. Say, no, I can’t be part of this mission, can’t be part of a mass killing of innocent people no matter what the ultimate goal, I won’t. Get involved anyway, commit acts maybe much worse. Why? To save some lives, not others.

A choice. There’s always a choice.

And if I’d made other, smarter choices this time, I’d be home now, taking care of sick animals in my parents’ barn.

Well, at least that was one thing I didn’t have to worry about. My parents wouldn’t know I was gone. The Chee would be covering for me, like they usually did.

Jake had probably alerted them as soon as he saw I was missing. Now one of the Chee was projecting a holographic image of me so real my own parents wouldn’t notice the difference. The Chee was eating my meals, going to my classes, helping my dad with the animals. Kissing my parents good night.

And also doing my algebra homework, so there was a tiny up side.

Meanwhile, I was a flea, hiding in the dirt. And I didn’t even know where. I had to get home.

I wanted my parents. I wanted my farm.

I missed Jake. And Rachel. Tobias and Ax. Even Marco.

The Chee couldn’t cover for me forever. Could they?

My two hours were probably up. I demorphed. Slowly. Cautiously.

Night had fallen. Above me all I could see were stars and a full moon sitting low in the sky. No Bug fighters. No stalled-out airplanes. No gym teacher gunning for me with an elephant rifle.

I stood and peeked over the edge of the ravine. Nothing. A wide flat stretch of nothing.

“Okay.” I brushed sand from my hair. “This is good. I don’t know where I am, but apparently the Yeerks don’t, either. Definite improvement. I can work with this.” I stared across what looked like an endless desert. “I think.”

I grabbed hold of a root and pulled myself from the ravine. I crouched low, half expecting an army of Hork-Bajir to appear out of the darkness.

That’s when I heard the voice, right in my ear: “They’re gone.”

The Chee are probably thinking, "Why do we have to cover for this girl? She doesn't even have a dog. Besides, I already have a cover identity as a frycook and if I don't get there, I'll be fired. I mean, Earth's biggest hope against Yeerk infiltration is these kids? Can't even be trusted not to get on a plane and accidentally go halfway around the word.

Chapter 14

quote:

“AAAHHH!”

“AAAHHH!”

“Gggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

I screamed.

He screamed.

His dog flattened himself against the ground in front of his master and let out a low growl.

I crept backward in the dirt. “It’s okay, Tjala.” The kid reached out to scratch the dog’s neck. He glanced up at me, then lowered his eyes. “He won’t bite you,” he said.

The kid was about my age, maybe older. It was hard to tell in the moonlight. He’d been sitting between a big rock and a clump of bushes, and I’d practically landed in his lap when I’d climbed out of the ravine. His skin was dark, darker than mine. He dissolved into the night shadows.

I glanced around. What else was lurking in the dark?

“No worries,” he said. “We are alone.”

I glanced around again, not sure whether or not to believe him. “Man,” I said. “You scared me.”

“I scared you?” He laughed. His dark curls bobbed. The dog’s ears twitched. “That’s funny.”

“Yeah. Hysterical.” I pulled myself out of the dirt and started to brush off my clothes. I peeked up at the kid and caught him staring at my leotard.

He looked quickly away.

I glanced down. Okay, so the thing was in shreds. Rachel would be thrilled. She’d get to take me shopping for a new one when I got home.

If I got home. I looked up. “Um -”

The kid smiled. “You’ll be needing some help.”

“Uh, yeah.”

What was it with him? It was like he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, and a little shy, but also confident. Like he knew what needed to be done and was willing to do it. Kind of like …Jake.

I shook my head. No, nothing like Jake.

“Yeah, I could use some help. I’m sort of -” Gee, how was I going to explain suddenly appearing out of nowhere? “Lost.”

“Lost.” He laughed again. “The bird-girl who can change into a bug is lost. No worries. Now you’re found.” He climbed to his feet. “I’m Yami and I’ll be your guide for the evening.” He smiled. “I like to say that. One of my uncles is a tour guide at Uluru.”

Yami turned and loped off along the creek bank. Tjala the dog trotted behind him.

“I’m Cassie,” I hollered after them. “And thanks. I think.”

I ran to catch up before I lost them both in the dark. I stumbled about as I followed them through the scrub, trying to keep my bare feet on the soft sand and away from rocks and sticks and prickly clumps of grass.

Yami was barefoot, too, but his skinny legs rambled along with a natural grace. Tjala bounded along at his side. He was a sturdy little dog, not more than a half-grown pup, with dark speckles all over his coat and sharp ears that perked up at every rustle and birdcall. We walked in silence for a few moments.

“So,” I finally said. “You saw all that back there, huh? The bird? The flea?”

Yami nodded. “And the funny airplane.” He shook his head. “Many planes fly over, but I’ve

never seen one like that before, chasing birds and blowing holes in the ground. It was a surprise.” The Bug fighter. A surprise. Yeah, you could call it that.

I tripped over a scruffy bush. “But the bird changing to a girl, then to a flea, then back to a girl again? That wasn’t a surprise?”

Yami gave me a little sideways smile. “No.” he shrugged one shoulder. “Okay, maybe a little.

But -”

He stopped suddenly and held his arm out at his side. I almost ran into it.

“- but not a lot. This is why.”

He lowered his arm. I caught my breath. The flat desert floor had come to an abrupt end. We were standing at the edge of a crescent-shaped cliff.

Tjala’s ears twitched.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“Ssssh.” Yami held his hand on Tjala’s back to keep him still. “Stay.”

The dry creek bed ended at the edge of the cliff. I peeked over. The full moon was reflected below. The cliff walls dropped straight down to a pool of water.

“It’s a sacred place,” said Yami. “A spring, created by our spirit ancestors. They made the water and the cliff and all the caves along the cliff. And when they finished, they changed themselves into rocks and mountains and trees and stars and all the things on Earth and in the sky.” He gave me his one-shoulder shrug and flashed a grin. “And maybe fleas, too. Who knows?”

Tjala stood at the edge of the cliff dead still, every muscle tensed. His ears pitched forward.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“No, Tjala. Stay.” Yami scratched Tjala’s head. He looked at me and motioned toward something below.
I
followed his gaze. The moonlight fell on a herd of large animals grazing in the grass along the water’s edge. Some were hunched over, eating. Some stood upright on their huge back legs, almost like humans, their long ears twitching. One of the smaller ones, a baby, turned and leaped into its
mother’s pouch.

“Okay,” I said. “This is not South Dakota.”

So even though this doesn't take place at Uluru, it sounds like it takes place near Uluru.

I just want to put a disclaimer in this going forward, which is that I don't really know much about traditional aboriginal Australian cultures. I don't know if anything in this book going forward will be offensive, wrong or unrealistic (unrealistic beyond the aliens, I mean). If anyone reading this is aboriginal Australian or knows anything about the culture and anything in the book is wrong or offensive, please point it out. Thanks.

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

I don't know about outright offensive, but I imagine we're going to be getting a good dose of the noble savage trope before this book's done!

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Chapter 15

quote:

“South Dakota?” Yami gave me a funny look. “You are lost.”

No kidding. I gazed down at the herd of kangaroos. Lost in Australia. About as far away from home as I could get without leaving the planet.

But the kangaroos! I stared at them. They were such an odd combination of parts: the face of a deer, the ears of a rabbit, the long, long tail of a rat stretching out behind them on the ground. When they bent over to eat, they were an awkward tangle of tail and legs, their big furry rumps higher than their heads. When they stood, they held their smaller front legs at their sides, like a human.

And somehow all the odd and curious parts came together in a magnificent whole.

“I didn’t know they were so big,” I whispered.

“These are reds,” said Yami. “Taller than my grandfather. This mob grazes here often.”

“Mob?”

Yami shrugged. “A bunch of ‘roos. A mob.”

I nodded. A mob. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

And neither could Tjala.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

The kangaroos stopped grazing and looked up.

“Stay, Tjala.”

Tjala turned his head toward Yami, then back toward the kangaroos. One of the bigger ones leaped. Its huge back feet thumped against the grass.

Tjala bounded along the edge of the cliff and scrambled down where the land began sloping toward the plain below.

“No!” Yami raced after him. I followed.

The kangaroos bolted. They didn’t stampede like cattle. They hopped in all different directions, zigzagging across the grass, their hind feet thundering over the ground.

Tjala leaped onto the grassy plain and ran in circles around the ‘roos, nipping at their legs. The kangaroos kicked and swiped at him with their claws.

Yami climbed down a gully that cut through the side of the steep hill. I followed, stumbling around boulders and tripping over gnarled roots.

The mob had scattered. Tjala was still chasing one of the big ‘roos. It kicked at him, leaning back on its thick tail and raking Tjala’s nose with its hind claws.

Tjala howled.

The kangaroo leaped into the water. Tjala splashed in after it.

“No!” Yami ran toward the spring. “Come back, Tjala!”

The pup splashed about in the shallow water near the shore. He looked at Yami, then back at the water, torn between obeying his master and chasing the kangaroo.

Yami slapped his knees. “Tjala! Come!”

Tjala gave the ‘roo one last longing look, then turned and bounded toward Yami. He nearly wagged himself in half as Yami knelt down to scratch his neck.

The kangaroo swam to the far shore. It hopped a short distance away, then turned back to look at us. It watched us for a moment, then turned again and hopped off into the night.

“It seems okay,” I said. “I don’t think Tjala hurt it.”

“I wasn’t worried about the ‘roo.” Yami laughed and fell over backward as Tjala leaped up to lick his face. “I was worried about Tjala. That big boomer would have killed him.”

“Really?”

Yami patted Tjala’s back. “I have seen a big boomer drown two dingoes this way. He led them into the deep water and held their heads under. Two wild dingoes at one time.”

Yami climbed to his feet and started off across the grass. Tjala started to follow, then stopped.

His ears perked up.

I listened. A rustling and thumping.

Yami listened, too, then nodded and loped off toward the sound. Tjala and I followed.

We found a female kangaroo - a doe, Yami called it - caught in a woven fence. One of her hind legs was pushed between the wires. She held her head up and back as eh kicked and clawed. Her joey peeked out of her pouch. Ducked down inside when it saw us.

Yami held Tjala still while I crept up behind the kangaroo. “Take great care,” he said. “Keep far from her claws.”

The kangaroo twisted and kicked. She whipped her head around. Her eyes held a wild, frantic look.

“Shhhhh,” I said. “You’re going to be okay.”

I pressed my hand against her tail. She thrashed once more, then fell into the acquiring trance.

I had to work fast. One of her back claws was caught in the woven wire. Her kicking had wrapped several more wires around her leg. I stretched a strand of wire to untangle it.

The joey poked his nose out of the pouch and looked up at me.

“Hey, little guy,” I said. “Your mama’s going to be free in a second.”

I pulled the last wire from her claw, then backed away.

The mother kangaroo lifted her head. Her ears twitched. She sniffed her joey, then rolled to her feet and bounded off.

Bummmph. Bummmph. Bummmph.

She stopped under a stand of knotted trees and turned. She stood upright, watching me. Her long ears flicked. Then she turned again and hopped away.

Yami smiled, his sideways smile. “You have a special way with kangaroos,” he said. “Maybe the bird-girl wants to change into a ‘roo next time instead of a flea?”

He laughed. I laughed, too. Yami thought turning into a kangaroo was a pretty funny joke.

I didn’t tell him the joke was now entirely possible.

So Cassie can now morph a kangaroo.

Chapter 16

quote:

“HAHAHAHA!”

A booming laugh burrowed into my dreams.

I opened my eyes, closed them, then opened them again. The sun blazed across a sea of red sand. Red sand. Oh, yeah. Australia.

I could still hear the laugh, and the sound of voices. I lifted my head. I was lying on a hard wooden bench on Yami’s porch. Someone had rolled up a blanket and slipped it under my head, and now my neck was molded around it. My shoulder was numb where it had been jutting into the wood.

It had to be morning, early morning, but the air was already so thick with heat I could barely move through it. I swung my legs over the side of the bench and sat up.

I remembered following Yami to his family’s outpost. No, not outpost. Outstation. That’s what he’d called it, an outstation. I remembered waiting on the bench while Yami went to find his mother. I remembered resting my head on my arm when I leaned over to pet Tjala.

And that’s all I remembered. Until now.

The talking and laughing were coming from outside. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and stood up. I had to find Yami and see if I could use his phone. I had to get home. Somehow.

At the very least, I had to get out of here. The Yeerks would be back, and I couldn’t put Yami and his family in more danger than I already had.

Yami’s house was a small stone rectangle, low to the ground, with a metal roof that extended out on all four sides to form a porch. Nearby I could see a couple of other houses and a little silver camper.

Yami was sitting with a bunch of other people, his family, I guessed, inside a lean-to made of branches. They fell silent when they saw me walking toward them across the sand. Oh, no, had my leotard -? I glanced down.

Thank goodness. It was filthy, torn, and sticky with sweat, but it still covered all the important parts.

Tjala bounded from the lean-to and raced toward me across the sand. He wagged and wiggled and licked my hand, then turned and ran back to the lean-to. I followed.

When I reached the lean-to, Yami gave me a quick half smile and motioned his head toward an old man sitting in the center. “My grandfather wants to meet you,” he said.

The man unfolded his legs and stood up. He wore a sleeveless workshirt and dusty jeans. His hair was a tangle of gray curls, tamed slightly by a red headband, and his face looked like it had been carved from seasoned wood, with a broad, curving nose and a forehead that jutted out so far it hid his eyes completely,

He swayed. One leg almost buckled under him. Yami reached for his arm and held him till he regained his balance.

The old man studied me. The wind lifted his long, grizzled beard.

And then he smiled, a smile like Yami’s that filled his entire face. He took my hand in his and

clasped it softly. He nodded and laughed, a deep booming laugh. The laugh that had woken me up.

The rest of Yami’s family laughed, too, and gathered around me.

I looked at Yami.

He shrugged. “I told my grandfather about your great shape-shifting powers. And about how you calmed the ‘roo. And about how you hid in a creek bed that runs into the spring.”

Oh. That.

Yami’s grandfather nodded. “The spring of our ancestors. You chose it as your safe shelter. It is a sign.”

Yeah. It was a sign all right. A sign that I shouldn’t be set loose in the world unsupervised.

But Yami’s family didn’t see it that way. Apparently I’d become something of a celebrity while I was sleeping.

Yami explained it to me. “My grandfather’s greatest fear is that the old traditions will disappear. He works very hard to teach us the ways of our ancestors. He thinks you are proof that he is doing well.”

I stared at him, horrified. “But Yami, I’m not. I’m not proof of anything.” Yami only shrugged.

His mother gave me a T-shirt and shorts and insisted I’d be cooler in them. She was right. I was a little cooler. But I panicked when I came back outside from changing clothes and saw Yami’s aunts throwing my leotard in a tub to soak.

“I’ll need to take that with me,” I said. “Soon.”

They nodded and fixed me breakfast, a big bowl of something that looked like miniature white Taxxons.

“Witchetty grub,” said Yami.

“Ah.” I stared into the bowl. It was filled with fat, white, segmented worms, longer than my hand. “Don’t tell me,” I said. “Tastes like chicken.”
Yami frowned. “No.” He popped a grub into his mouth and chewed. “More like butter. You try.”

He picked the longest, plumpest grub from his bowl and held it out to me.

I stared at him, then at the grub. I’d eaten worse. Actually, I’d been worse, when I was in Yeerk morph. But right now I was Cassie, regular human Cassie, and there was no way I was biting into a wormy little Taxxon.

“You know, this desert heat is really getting to me.” I swallowed. “I - I just don’t have an appetite.”

Yami blinked and nodded. His smile faded. I looked into his dark eyes, and a little pain stabbed through my heart.

We were by ourselves, sitting side by side in the little lean-to. Tjala dozed at Yami’s side. His grandfather had hobbled off toward one of the houses, and his little cousins were playing in the sand nearby. The rest of his family had finally stopped fussing over me and gone about their morning work.

Yami dropped the grub back into his bowl.

“Yami,” I said, “your family has been so nice to me. You have been so nice to me.”

I touched his arm. He looked down at it, surprised. I was a little surprised myself. I pulled my hand back.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate everything, and I know I sound like E.T., but I have to phone home. It’s a long-distance call.” A really long distance. “But I can reverse the charges. I think.”

He gave me a sad smile. “We don’t have a telephone.”

I stared at him.

“You could use the two-way radio.” He looked down at his bowl. “But the explosion yesterday destroyed the aerial.”

“The explosion?” I frowned. “Oh, no.”

The Bug fighter. When I Draconed the Bug fighter, I’d fried their radio antenna. I couldn’t call out. Yami’s family couldn’t call out. Not only had I led the Yeerks to their outstation, I’d destroyed their only means of communication.

“Oh, Yami. I’m so, so sorry.” Took a deep a breath. “And I know I must seem like a total idiot to you, just falling from the sky and demanding phone service. It’s just that nobody knows where I am. I’m not even sure where I am.”

“I know where you are.” Now Yami touched my arm. “You’re in the Piti Spring Community,” he explained. “Northern Territory, Australia.” He smiled. “Not South Dakota.”

I laughed. “Thank you. That’s very helpful.” I shook my head. “But I have to go home. To my own family.”

And to Jake, I thought. I had to get back to Jake.

Yami shrugged. “No worries. You’ll ride with the postie. The postman.”

I blinked. The mailman. Of course. I glanced over at my leotard, drying in the sun. “What time does he come?”

“Tuesday.”

“Tuesday. But that was …”

Yami nodded. “Yesterday. He delivered the post right before the explosion. Right before you came.”

“And he’ll be back.?”

“Next Tuesday.”

Next Tuesday. Six days. I couldn’t stay here six more days. I closed my eyes and collapsed backward onto the sand. I’d battled Dracons and Bug fighters and paralyzing green beams, only to be defeated by the lonely Australian outback.

Marco would love this. Cassie the nature lover finally gets out into nature and begs for technology.

A low buzzing hum pierced my thoughts. It started so softly I barely noticed it, then grew louder.

It sounded like - I sat up.

An airplane.

So, what do you all think?

FlocksOfMice
Feb 3, 2009
This is... the third time they've met an indigenous group and the teen thought it was cool they were transforming animal spirit people?

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice

FlocksOfMice posted:

This is... the third time they've met an indigenous group and the teen thought it was cool they were transforming animal spirit people?

Yep. All the indigenous teens these days are into transforming into animals. I think it's just a fad.

Tree Bucket
Apr 1, 2016

R.I.P.idura leucophrys
I guess it's a useful shortcut for skipping the tedious "that's impossible!!!!!!!" stage of the narrative.

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

Tree Bucket posted:

I guess it's a useful shortcut for skipping the tedious "that's impossible!!!!!!!" stage of the narrative.

It is, but it's also a deeply American way of viewing foreign cultures. I don't think they would've done this with a Native American culture. (I know one of the three was Inuit, but for a U.S. audience that's not quite the same as, say, Navajo or Hopi or whatever, even in the 90s.)

It would've been funny if she'd landed in the suburbs of Sydney and they'd tried to the same tack with the local Lebanese-Australians, Chinese-Australians, Sudanese-Australians etc. "Ah, our culture speaks of such shapeshifters..."

Also a wichetty grub is a cliche example of bush tucker and I'm pretty sure Aboriginals in remote communities don't tuck into an entire bowl (!) of them for breakfast every day. I think they eat, like, Weet-Bix etc.

Zonko_T.M.
Jul 1, 2007

I'm not here to fuck spiders!

Yeah the giant bowl of grubs for breakfast feels very cliche. Next up, Yami plays the didgeridoo while his aunt talks about how a dingo ate her baby.
Kid me, growing up with movies like The Rescuers Down Under or Quigley... Down Under.... would've been really into the change of scenery. As an adult I'm cringing.
That said I'd love to see the Yeerk/Andalite response to a continent with the most venomous animals on earth. Or the Great Yeerk/Emu War.

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
I got caught up fighting emus and am not able to post chapters, today. However, I'm confident that we've tracked them down, we'll win total victory and new chapters will come tomorrow, or my name's not George Pearce.

Comrade Blyatlov
Aug 4, 2007


should have picked four fingers





Epicurius posted:

I got caught up fighting emus and am not able to post chapters, today. However, I'm confident that we've tracked them down, we'll win total victory and new chapters will come tomorrow, or my name's not George Pearce.

rip

Capfalcon
Apr 6, 2012

No Boots on the Ground,
Puny Mortals!

Welp, anyone else got the last books?

Tree Bucket
Apr 1, 2016

R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Capfalcon posted:

Welp, anyone else got the last books?

I reckon we can piece together the final books ourselves from what we've gleaned thus far.

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Ok. I am declaring victory over the perfidious Emu and moving on. Were things as successful as we would have lliked? Not necessarily, but this is a learning experience. For instance, maybe we should use more than three men to hunt 20,000 emus. But that's not important right now. The important thing is we look forward. Forward to the rest of this book.

Chapter 17

quote:

I shielded my eyes against the sun. A small silver plane glinted on the horizon.

I raced from the lean-to and waved my arms over my head. “Hey! Down here! Stop! STOP! Hey, down here!”

It was a small plane, flying low. It buzzed closer and closer and was now almost directly overhead.

“STO-O-O-O-O-OP!”

I jumped up and down in the sand, waving my arms like a crazed referee. Tjala bounded out of the lean-to and ran in circles around me, barking at the sky.

The pilot dipped his wing and flew on.

“HEY!”

I watched the plane grow smaller and smaller and disappear over the horizon. I was still holding my hands over my head. I let them drop to my sides.

“Tourists.” Yami scratched Tjala’s head. “You’ll see them all morning flying in that direction, then all evening flying back the other way. Waving won’t make them stop. They’ll just snap pictures of the charming natives and fly on.”

I wiped the sweat from my face and tried to catch my breath. The desert heat sucked the air right out of my lungs. “So where do they take off from? How far is it?”

“From the Alice. About one hundred kilometers from here.”

One hundred kilometers. Okay. That was … what? We’d done this in math class. A kilometer was less than a mile, like maybe half a mile. Maybe a little more. So one hundred kilometers was only - “Fifty or sixty miles.” I stared out at the endless red desert. “Give or take a blistering acre or
two.”

Yami shook his head. “You’d never survive it,” he said. “Not Cassie the girl. Cassie the bird, who knows? Too bad you aren’t a kangaroo. A kangaroo could be making a telephone call in only a few hours.” He laughed at his own joke. “But even a kangaroo would wait till the sun went down.”

He turned and walked back to his witchetty grub. Tjala followed. I stared at them.

A kangaroo. Fast. Smart. Built for the outback. Bette than Crocodile Dundee with a big knife.

But could the kangaroo find its way to a pay phone? Because Cassie the girl sure couldn’t, and she wouldn’t have Yami along to lead her safely through the night desert.

I wiped my sticky neck on the sleeve of my T-shirt. Yami was right. I couldn’t go anywhere till the sun went down. I would wait until nightfall, then morph kangaroo. Yami could give me directions to the nearest town. Just a few more hours and I would be on my way home.

I squinted up at the clear, bright sky. All I could do in the meantime was hope the Yeerks took a very long time organizing a search party.

A door slammed, and Yami’s grandfather hobbled around the side of the house. His limp seemed worse than it had only a few minutes before. His hair was matted with sweat. When he reached the edge of Yami’s porch, he stopped and leaned against it.

“Grandfather?” Yami set his bowl in the sand and ran toward the porch. I followed him.

Yami’s grandfather pushed away from the porch and stood upright. He held up a curved piece of dark wood. “For you,” he told me. “You have given me a gift. And now I give a gift to you.”

I took the wood. It was smooth and hard. “A boomerang,” he said.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I wanted to say I couldn’t take it, that I didn’t deserve it. I wanted to tell him the only things I’d given him were a broken radio antenna and exposure to an evil so absolute and terrifying that it had no place here in this untouched land.

I looked up. The old man’s face burst into a smile. Yami’s smile. I’d seen the same pure joy on Yami’s face when he tried to share the witchetty grub.

The joy that turned to pain and embarrassment when I refused to eat them.

I ran my fingers over the boomerang. “Thank you,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”

“Grandfather carves boomerangs and sends them to my aunt in the Alice,” Yami said proudly. “Collectors buy them, and tourists, too, and art galleries even.” He nodded at his grandfather. “Show her how to throw it.”

Yami’s grandfather smiled and nodded and led us around the trailer, steadying himself with one hand against the metal as he walked.

I leaned close to Yami. “Is he okay?” I whispered.

His grandfather waved a hand in the air without turning around. “I’m fine. I cut myself yesterday while carving. I’ve done it before.” He laughed, but some of the thunder seemed to be missing from it. “You can be sure I’ll do it again.”

He led us to the edge of the outstation, away from the houses. He gripped one end of the boomerang in the palm of his hand and stood still for a moment, facing the wind. Then he pulled the boomerang back at his waist and hurled it sideways, low to the ground.

FFFFFwwwpppwwppppwwppp.

The boomerang shot over the desert, a deadly, spinning blur. It sliced a little pink flower off the top of a scrubby bush and skidded into the sand. Yami ran to get it. Tjala bounded after him.

“It doesn’t come back?” I said.

“Yes, it comes back. As soon as Yami brings it.” Yami’s grandfather laughed. “This boomerang doesn’t come back without help. Returning boomerangs are for games. I would throw a returning boomerang much differently, over my shoulder, like a ball. This is a hunting boomerang. A weapon.”

Yami jogged back across the sand. I saw the same natural ease I’d noticed when I’d first met him. Not like he was running across the desert, but like he was part of the desert. He smiled at me and wrinkled his eyes against the sun. “Your turn.” He handed me the boomerang.

I took a deep breath and tried to stand the way his grandfather had. I pulled the boomerang back to my waist.

“No!” Yami reached toward me. “You have it backward.”

I looked up as he looked down. Our noses brushed together.

“Oh.” “Sorry.”

I stepped back in embarrassed confusion.

Yami turned away and looked at his feet. “My grandfather would be better at helping,” he said. I nodded and looked over at Yami’s grandfather. He smiled weakly and started toward me. He stumbled. I caught his arm, and he sank against me.

“Grandfather!” Yami braced his other side, and we lowered him to the sand.

“Show me where you cut yourself,” I said.

Yami’s grandfather nodded and rolled up his pant leg. A putrid stench wafted out.

“Oh, man,” I said.

A deep gash ran down his calf, from just below his knee to the middle of his shin. His leg was swollen and blistered, and the skin around the cut had turned purplish-black. I touched it. It was burning with fever. Pus oozed from the wound.

“You did this yesterday?” I said.

He nodded. “A new carving tool, sharper than anything.” He dug into his pocket. “I found it in the desert. I saw it fall. It was a gift from the sky.”

He held up a shard of metal, black and singed. My stomach jolted. It wasn’t a gift.

It was a piece of the Bug fighter I’d shot down.

So Yami's grandfather is not doing well. And his leg got infected fast.

Chapter 18

quote:

The Bug fighter.

I stared at the charred black piece in his hand.

A hunk of metal. All the horrifying things that had happened over the past two days - all the horrifying things I’d done - had been because of a hunk of metal. The Marines. The armored-truck guys. The Hork-Bajir. The Taxxon. And now Yami and his family, especially his grandfather, who had only wanted a good sharp tool to carve a boomerang. I had put every one of them in terrible danger.

Over a hunk of metal.

I stared at the injured leg. I’d helped my dad with a lot of injured animals, but I’d never seen an infection get this bad this fast.

Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe a chunk of Bug fighter could spread weird alien diseases. Clearly the foreign metal had caused a horrible reaction in Yami’s grandfather.

Whatever it was, we had to get the wound cleaned. “Do you have a first-aid kit?” I asked.

Yami’s grandfather nodded and lay back in the sand. “The medical kit and natural medicines.” He closed his eyes. “Yami’s mother knows them all.”

“Good. That’s what we need for right now.” I stared out at the desert. Heat shimmered up from the scrub. “But, Yami, we have to get him to a hospital. Somehow.”

“There’s the flying doctor,” he said.

“The flying doctor?”

Yami nodded. “Not like the flying bird-girl.” He tried to smile at his little joke but his chin quivered. “The Flying Doctor Service. They use airplanes to fly doctors over the outback.”

“Like an ambulance in the air! But that’s - that’s exactly -” I stopped, my mouth open. “That’s impossible, isn’t it?”

Yami nodded.

We needed a radio to call the flying doctor. The radio I had destroyed. “I can get my uncles to help us,” he said.

Two of Yami’s uncles carried his grandfather inside. Yami’s mother set a huge first-aid kit and a basket full of bottles and powders on a table by the bed.

She leaned over to examine the wound. “Oh!” She clapped her hand over her mouth and stared up at me. Fear filled her eyes.
“I know,” I said.

The gash started on the inside of his calf, in the fleshy part below his knee, and curved down to his shin. Through pus I could see bone.

I helped Yami’s mother clean the wound, then we left it uncovered to heal in the open air. Yami’s mother gave his grandfather something to help him sleep, a natural drug from one of the desert shrubs.

Then left us with him so she could go disinfect the things she’d used to clean the wound. Yami and I sat next to the bed, watching his grandfather sleep. His chest rose in fits and shakes when he took in a breath, then fell with a shudder when he exhaled.

The floor of the house had been dug down into the ground. The dirt and stone walls kept it cooler than the desert outside. Still, the air in the tiny room was thick with heat and the stench of rotting flesh.

“Yami,” I said, “he needs antibiotics. If I leave to get help now, the flying doctor could be here in a few hours.”

Yami shook his head. “This is the middle of summer. You would never make it.”

I mopped the sweat from his grandfather’s face. “Do you remember what you said about changing into a kangaroo?”

He nodded.

“Well, I can do that. I can become a kangaroo, and I can get help.”

He looked at me. “Do you remember the other thing I said? That even a kangaroo would wait till the sun went down? You wouldn’t be able to travel very fast in this heat. You’d have to stop and rest and find shade.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you wouldn’t. You’d push yourself on. To get help. But you can’t help my grandfather if, if -” His gaze flickered to the floor.

“If I die in the desert?”

He lifted his eyes. “Yes.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll wait until sunset.”

I didn’t tell him I’d already planned to morph kangaroo and cross the desert during the night. My earlier panic about making a phone call suddenly seemed trivial.

We stayed with his grandfather all morning and into the afternoon. Yami’s mother came in and out, and I helped her clean the wound and reapply the medicine.

It wasn’t helping. The infection only grew.

Yami’s mother left to gather more plants for medicine. I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, waiting for nightfall. I leaned my head against the stone. I guess I closed my eyes.

“Hhhuuuuuhhhh.”

A moan.

I blinked. Red streaks of light fell across the room. I glanced out the window. The sun was setting.

“Hhhhuuuuuuuuhhhhh.”

“Yami?” I stood up.

A hand clamped around my wrist.

“Aaahhhh!” I yelled.

It was Yami’s grandfather. His hand was dry and burning with fever. He looked up at me. His eyes blazed in a bright frenzy against the gray of his face.

“Hhhhuh-hhhhelp me.”

“I will. I am.” I squeezed his hand between both of mine. “I’m going to get help.” I rubbed the back of his hand. He closed his eyes. Then I glanced down at his wound.

“Oh, God.”

His entire lower leg, from just under his knee to the top of his foot, was black and swollen like a basketball.

A throbbing, putrified basketball, about to explode.

The thing is, if this really is some sort of alien infection, this should not be infecting Yami's grandfather like this, and here's why. There are some diseases that are zoonotic, like say Covid-19 or rabies. That means it's possible to catch them from animals. But most diseases we can't. Take distemper. That's a disease in dogs and some other animal species that can seriously injure or kill dogs. We can't gt distemper. If we're exposed to the virus that causes it, it won't infect us. The virus doesn't even recognize our cells as something to infect. Or take FIV....feline immunodeficiency virus. Cats can get it, but we can't. Meanwhile, your cat can't get HIV from you. And these are all creatures we share a common ancestry with, a similar genetic and protein structure, and common internal mechanisms. If this developed on another planet, we have no common ancestry with it or the things it normally infects..This basically makes as much sense as it did in The Sickness, where Ax's Andalite virus affected the Animorphs, but at least then, you could make some sort of excuse that, I dunno, the Animorphs were somehow changed when they got the ability to morph, making them susceptible to Andalite diseases. There's not even that excuse here. (Sorry, people who liked The Andromeda Strain).

effervescible
Jun 29, 2012

i will eat your soul

Epicurius posted:

The important thing is we look forward. Forward to the rest end of this book.

Fuschia tude
Dec 26, 2004

THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

Epicurius posted:

This basically makes as much sense as it did in The Sickness, where Ax's Andalite virus affected the Animorphs, but at least then, you could make some sort of excuse that, I dunno, the Animorphs were somehow changed when they got the ability to morph, making them susceptible to Andalite diseases. There's not even that excuse here. (Sorry, people who liked The Andromeda Strain).

I made that same argument back during that book :colbert:

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

quote:

I saw the same natural ease I’d noticed when I’d first met him. Not like he was running across the desert, but like he was part of the desert.

Is there a specific name for this trope about indigenous people? How they're all ~*~One With The Landscape~*~ as though they're elves blending into the forest in Lord of the Rings?

(Cassie, who lives in a farmhouse at the edge of a forest and interacts with injured wildlife every day, is probably just in touch with nature as a kid who's only a couple of generations out from the colonialism that decimated his people's way of life.)

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice

freebooter posted:

Is there a specific name for this trope about indigenous people? How they're all ~*~One With The Landscape~*~ as though they're elves blending into the forest in Lord of the Rings?

(Cassie, who lives in a farmhouse at the edge of a forest and interacts with injured wildlife every day, is probably just in touch with nature as a kid who's only a couple of generations out from the colonialism that decimated his people's way of life.)

At its root, it's the Noble Savage trope.....it's "Unlike us, who because of technology, have lost our connection to the natural world and each other, these primitives are at one with nature and able to live pure lives of harmony." It's pretty much as condescending and racist as you expect.

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Chapter 19

quote:

“Yami, wake up!”

Yami was leaning against the foot of the bed, his head on the mattress.

“Yami, we fell asleep. You have to wake up.”

His dark head bobbed. “No worries. I am awake.” He rubbed his eyes and climbed to his feet. Stared at his grandfather’s leg. “Oh!”

“Yami, it’s too late to get a doctor.” I swallowed. “If we don’t stop the infection - now - he’ll die. And there’s only one way we can stop it.” I held his gaze with mine, so he would understand. “We have to get rid of it.”

Yami nodded. Then the horror registered. “Get rid of … his leg.”

“It will save his life, Yami. And once he’s stable, I can go find a doctor.”

“Yes. I’ll get my mother.” He ran out the door.

I sat on the edge of the bed and studied his grandfather’s worn, rugged face. The old man’s plea echoed through my head: Help me. Did he know what he was asking? Would he want to live with only one leg? Or would he rather we let him die?

But I knew the question was pointless. I wouldn’t let him die when there was still something I could do to save him. I wouldn’t let him suffer through the misery of being slowly eaten away by infection. I wouldn’t let him go when there was still so much he needed to teach Yami.

I’d helped my dad with amputations - a deer, a coyote, a raccoon. All hit by cars. And I’d done surgery without my dad. Brain surgery, on Ax. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. To save my friend’s life.

One of my right choices, no doubt.

I patted the old man’s hand and stood up. I needed a blade, a sharp blade, able to slice cleanly through a man’s bone. And I knew where to get one.

I changed back into my leotard and concentrated.

Sschhoooooooop. Sschhoooooooop. Schoooop-schoop-schoop.

Blades erupted from my head, wrists, forearms, elbows. Everything else about me was still human. I was Cassie, the human switchblade.

And I could have stayed that way. I could have stopped the morph right there and used the blades to perform the operation. But I needed more than the blades. I needed the strength to use them, more strength than my young human arms possessed.

Ssscccrrrrruuuuuuuunnch.

My neck stretched up and out, a serpent neck extending from my shoulders. Shoulders that were bulging. Massive shoulders and arms powerful enough to wrench a full-grown oak from the ground. I grew taller. The blades on my serpent head scraped the ceiling.

Cccuuuuuurrrrrrreeeeeeeeekkkkkk.

My body dropped as my legs slammed back and up. My hips rotated and my knees reversed direction. My toes melded together and shot out into four claws on tyrannosaur feet.

Sshhhhrrooooooooomp.

A thick tail shot out from the base of my spine and banged into the table, rattling the bottles of medicine. Skin grew thick and tough. Teeth, like scalpels, sprouted from my jaws.

I was Hork-Bajir. And not just any Hork-Bajir. I had two Hork-Bajir morphs now, but I had chosen to become the one I’d acquired on the airplane, the Hork-Bajir who had vaporized under the Dracon beam. I was a Xerox copy of a Hork-Bajir who could no longer exist except through the DNA
in my blood.

And I was not a killer, not a natural terrorist for Visser Three. The Hork-Bajir was gentle, curious, and a little afraid. And he was going to help me save a life.

The door banged open, and I jumped.

“My mother is out in the desert. My aunt went to find -” Yami stared at me in horror. Backed against the wall.

<It’s me,> I said. <I’m still Cassie. Here. Inside.> I clasped one fierce hand over my chest.

“Your voice.” Yami pressed his hands against his ears.

<I know,> I said. <It’s the best way for me to communicate with you right now.>

Yami pulled his hands down slowly. “You can save my grandfather like this?”

<Yes.>

He nodded. “Tell me how to help.”

We scrubbed our hands, or, in my case, claws, and I disinfected my wrist blades. We elevated the infected leg with blankets, then Yami gave his grandfather more of the pain medication his mother had made. Yami found a belt, and we used it as a tourniquet around his grandfather’s thigh. This was tricky because I knew that the main artery lay deep within his leg.

I made a shallow incision below the knee, cutting only through the skin all the way around his leg.

I wiped my blade on a sterile gauze pad and took a deep breath. The air in the little room was boiling. The Hork-Bajir was not built for heat.

I let out the breath. <Okay, Yami, be ready, because there’s going to be some blood.>

I needed to make one slice, clean and clear, straight through the muscle. A quick cut would cause the arteries to spasm and help control bleeding.

I positioned my blade over his leg. I slashed, down and around. The muscle fell neatly in half. Blood spurted from the vessel closest to the bone.

<There, Yami. That artery. Pinch it shut while I finish.>

Yami nodded. His lips went pale. He grabbed the artery with shaky fingers and squeezed.

I pushed the muscle back to reveal the two leg bones. One slice severed them both.

I demorphed quickly. Yami watched. His face contorted in a silent scream, but he said nothing.

He nearly collapsed with relief when my fully human form emerged.

I stitched the main arteries and veins, but left the skin flaps open. If I closed them now, the wound wouldn’t drain, and infection would set in again. A doctor could stitch them closed when we got to a hospital.

Yami’s grandfather stirred. His fever had broken. His face was drenched, but it had lost its deathly pallor.

He moaned and rolled his arm out over the edge of the bed. Something black and heavy clanked to the floor.

I picked it up. It was the chunk of Bug fighter.

As I stared at the metal, a shadow darkened the room. And I knew what it was before I looked out the window.

Visser Three’s Blade ship hovered over the brush. A port on the bottom of the ship yawned open, and a Taxxon dropped out onto the red Australian plain.

Man, Cassie love cutting people open, doesn't she?

Chapter 20

quote:

The Blade ship hung low in the sky, black and silent against the setting sun. an army of Taxxons and Hork-Bajir leaped from its belly. They spread out over the scrub, trampling bushes and grass.

The Hork-Bajir were armed. They fired Dracon beams at anything that moved.

I leaned against the window. It was happening again. I’d led innocent people - Yami and his family - into danger.

His family!

I whirled. “Yami, where did your mother go?”

He motioned toward the door. “On the other side of the outstation, beyond the gum trees.”

I nodded. “Good. Where’s Tjala?”

Yami’s eyes widened. He ran toward the door. “Tjala!”

The pup tore inside, wiggling and wagging.

<ANDALITE!> Visser Three’s open thought-speak thundered through my head.

Yami pressed his hands over his ears. Tjala yelped and flattened himself against the floor.

<You didn’t think I’d forget you, did you?> Pure evil penetrated my skull. <Surrender now, or I will annihilate every living thing within a square mile. You have three minutes.>

Three minutes. I stared out the window. I couldn’t fight all those Taxxons and Hork-Bajir. Not alone. And I couldn’t hide. It would only put Yami and his family in more danger. Visser Three would kill them all just to flush me out.

I had to give him what he wanted. I had to come out in the open. If he saw me, he’d leave Yami’s family alone. If he knew where I was, he wouldn’t have to blast the desert into confetti looking for me.

One last Taxxon tumbled to Earth, then the port of the Blade ship rippled shut. The sky shimmered and the ship vanished, concealed behind a cloaking beam.

But Visser Three wasn’t gone. He was hiding. Watching.

“They have no right to be here.” Yami stood behind me, watching the strange alien beings ransack his desert.

“They’re here because of me.”

“No.” Yami’s grandfather touched my arm.

I looked down, startled.

He drew a sharp breath. His face twisted in pain, but his eyes stayed bright and alert.

“They’re here because they’re evil.” His voice was a low rasp. “You fight these creatures, yes?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“If you did not fight them, do you think they would leave us alone? Do you think they would stay away from this place and never hurt us? No. They would come. They would take our land, destroy our home. Our life would be gone forever. This I know.” He swallowed. “Do everything you can, and anything you must.” He closed his eyes. “I only wish I could help.”

I touched his cheek. “You already have,” I said.

<ANDALITE!> Visser Three’s voice boomed. <Two minutes.>

I eased the door open and peered out into the shadows. Nothing. I slipped into the porch. I needed strength, speed, and endurance. A morph that was desert-ready. I focused on kangaroo. Crrreeeaaaacccckkkk!

My hips swung forward. Thighs bulged into hulking mounds of muscle. My feet shot out, longer than my forearms. Toenails thickened and stretched. The two middle toes on each foot melted into one solid, claw-tipped bayonet.

Shhhhuuuuuuurroooooomp.

A tail shot from my spine, a column of pure muscle, as long as the rest of my body and as thick as my neck. The skin on my belly stretched to form a pouch.

Ssssccuuuuuuuurrrunnch.

My skull shifted back and out as my nose and jawbone sprouted into a muzzle. Ears stretched and shot to the top of my head. Dense fur spread from my whiskers to the tip of my tail.

<ANDALITE! ONE MINUTE.>

I was Information Central, sensing everything at once. My eyes peered through the long shadows on the porch, picking up the slight movement of grass
twisting in the wind.

My ears flicked and twitched. I could turn them in any direction, like two satellite dishes, tuning into the scuffing sound of Taxxon belly scraping against sand.

I sniffed. The sweet sharp scent of some desert plant mingled with the wretched odor of Hork- Bajir. I shuffled to the edge of the porch, using my tail as a prop while I balanced on my front feet and swung my back legs forward.
I
spotted the boomerang lying on the bench. The boomerang Yami’s grandfather had given me. I reached for it. The kangaroo’s front paws were amazing, almost like hands, without a real thumb, but with five nimble, clawed fingers. I gripped the boomerang in one paw, held my pouch open with the other, and slipped the boomerang inside.

<ANDALITE! Your time is up.>

Bummmph. Bummmph. I leaped out onto the open sand.

I get kangaroos are relatively dexterous, but would one be able to pick up a war boomerang and put it in her pouch?

Tree Bucket
Apr 1, 2016

R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Epicurius posted:

I get kangaroos are relatively dexterous, but would one be able to pick up a war boomerang and put it in her pouch?

Y'know, it's never really come up before now?

freebooter
Jul 7, 2009

Epicurius posted:

I get kangaroos are relatively dexterous, but would one be able to pick up a war boomerang and put it in her pouch?

Not with one hand, as she said she did; probably yes with a human brain directing it and handling it between two paws.

Now if she throws it, that'll be a bridge too far

edit - actually maybe I'm wrong. Google imaging them, they don't have opposable fingers but they are surprisingly long and maybe they could curl around and pick up something small.

freebooter fucked around with this message at 09:31 on Jun 29, 2022

Epicurius
Apr 10, 2010
College Slice
Chapter 21

quote:

Bummmph. Bummmph.

I hopped between the houses of the little settlement. My nose twitched. Foul Taxxon breath drifted toward me on the desert wind.

One of the Hork-Bajir looked up. Then a Taxxon. One by one the Yeerks stopped combing the desert and watched me.

I stood upright, ears flicking, ready to make my move. A gunfighter facing off against a gang of outlaws.

I had to let the Yeerks know I was the Andalite bandit, not just a misguided kangaroo. And then I had to run as fast as I could for as long as I could and lead them as far away as I could.

Bummmph. Bummmph. Bummmph.

I leaped to the edge of the settlement and faced the empty spot in the sky where the Blade ship had vanished.
I could almost hear Rachel: “Let’s do it!”

And Marco: “Are you insane?”

Maybe, I said silently. No

<ANDALITE!>

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

The ground exploded at my feet.

I bolted. My legs were like coiled springs.

Bummph. I landed on both feet.

I leaped again, soaring what felt like the length of an eighteen-wheeler, my tail curved out behind me for balance.

Taxxon and Hork-Bajir-Controllers crunched through the scrub behind me. I veered off, away from the settlement, away from the clump of gum trees and Yami’s mother.

Bummmph. Bummmph. Bummmph.

The tendons at the backs of my legs were like rubber bands. I landed, and the rubber band shot me back into space. The faster I hopped, the more energy I had. I could leap forever.

TSEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

A Hork-Bajir jumped out ahead of me.

I turned.

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

Another Hork-Bajir and a Taxxon.

I whirled. Another Taxxon, dead ahead. He slithered toward me, his centipede legs shooting him across the sand.

I leaped! He lunged! Hundreds of Taxxon pincers, like lobster claws, latched onto my fur.

I raked at him with my front paws. His pincers held tight, pulling me closer, closer. His Jell-O eyes quivered. Drool spilled from his mouth. His razor teeth slammed together like a guillotine, and inch above my neck. I leaned back, supporting my kangaroo body on the muscled coil of my tail, and
kicked.

THUMP! Thwuump-thwuump.

The massive muscles that had propelled me across the desert now released their force on the Taxxon. My back legs struck, again and again. I shredded him with my dagger claws. He sank back from me, Taxxon goo oozing onto the sand.

More Taxxons swarmed toward us. I turned and leaped away. The Taxxons let me go. Their rabid hunger zeroed in on their mangled comrade. The Yeerks inside their heads powerless to stop them. The Taxxons ripped into their fallen colleague. The wounded Taxxon himself turned and, with his last dying breath, slurped up his own guts.

Their little snack break bought me some time. I bounded across the scrub, surrounded on three sides. Taxxons and Hork-Bajir behind me and to my left. The settlement and grove of gum trees to my right. Only one way lay open, directly in front of me: the spring.

The Yeerks had already trampled Yami’s homeland and terrified his family. Now I was leading them to the sacred spring of his ancestors.

My choice. I had to get them as far away from Yami and his family as I could.

The Taxxons had finished feeding and were now slithering after me. Most of the Hork-Bajir had fallen behind. The desert was an oven, even with the sun going down. Their heavy Hork-Bajir bodies couldn’t take the heat.

But they were still armed.

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

The sand exploded under me.

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

A bush burst into flames.

I kept hopping. The ground sloped downward. The scrub became thicker. Ahead lay the spring. And in front of it, between me and the water, a group of large animals grazed in the grass.

No! I couldn’t believe it. I’d led the Yeerks right to the kangaroos.

One of the ‘roos, a female, bounded toward me, her joey bouncing along in her pouch. I recognized her. She was the doe I had untangled from the fence. My own kangaroo’s identical twin.

The Yeerks really have to stop using Taxxons to fight.

Chapter 22

quote:

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

A crater erupted at the edge of the spring.

The kangaroos scattered, thundering over the grass. Bummmph. Bummmph. They hopped in every direction, looping back and forth, surround me.

TSEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!

A boomer fell at my feet. The stench of burning fur filled the desert. I had to break free. The Yeerks were firing at anything that moved. They didn’t know which kangaroo was me!

I leaped away from the spring, toward the open desert.

Most of the female kangaroos had scattered across the plain, but the males, the big boomers, didn’t move as fast as the does. They were twice as big. And twice as heavy.

Two of them were locked in combat with a Hork-Bajir, swiping with their claws as he slashed with his blades. Another lay on the grass, unmoving. Ravenous Taxxons descended upon him.

One of the boomers leaped toward the water. Another followed. And another.

They looked like they were fleeing, backing themselves into a watery corner in their panic to get away. Taxxons scrambled toward the spring in frenzied anticipation. They didn’t know the boomers were leading them into a trap.

Or trying to.

I turned back toward the spring. The boomers were fighting my battle, and I couldn’t let them fight alone. I leaped into the water.

The doe I’d rescued stood on the shore. <Go,> I said. She watched me. She sniffed her pouch. Then she turned and hopped away.

I kicked toward deeper water. My entire body was submerged except for the uppermost curve of my rump and the top of my head - eyes, ears, the long ridge of my muzzle, nose. Powerful hind legs paddled, moving almost as well in water as on land.

More Taxxons slipped into the spring behind me. The Hork-Bajir followed, splashing in to the tops of their talons. Then they stopped. Couldn’t go any further. Their dense, tree-climbing bodies would sink in the mud at the bottom of the spring.

So they raised their Dracon beams instead.

TSEEEEEEW-buh-LOOOOOOSH!

A blast shot over my head. Heat singed my ears.

TSEEEEEEW-buh-LOOOOOOSH!

Water boiled around me.

Taxxons motored toward us. Their lobster claws propelling them headlong into the waiting roos.

The Taxxons lunged. The kangaroos threw their heads back and clawed. Pulled the bloated Taxxons down in the water!

A Taxxon barreled down on me, backing me toward the cliff. Another circled and came at me from behind. Claws snatched at me, front and back. I raked and kicked. The Taxxons pressed in. Pushed me under!

I fought to keep my face above the surface. Leaned back. Water lapped into my ears. A slurping Taxxon mouth bore down on me. My ears slipped under, then my eyes. My muzzle. My mouth. Only the tip of my nose remained above the water.

The Taxxon lunged. I kicked. Slashed! The water churned around me. My nose buried in foul Taxxon flesh! The Taxxon was on top of me now, pushing me down. I plunged deeper and deeper into the cool bottom water.

I struggled to break free. Taxxon claws, locked onto my fur, pressing down, down. Thrashing … legs and shoulders dragged through the water. Lungs burning!

I dug my paws into the Taxxon’s skin. His fat body bobbed like a beach ball. I pulled my hind legs up and around, so that I was on my back, under the Taxxon.

Schloooomp. Schloooomp.

I kicked. My middle toes plunged into the soft flesh of the Taxxon’s belly.

Spuh-LOOOOOOSH.

The Taxxon exploded! Popped like a big, nasty pimple.

The force of the eruption propelled me to the surface. Air! I sucked in lungfuls of air. The other Taxxons writhed toward the site like maggots.

I jetted away from them.

TSEEEEEEW-buh-LOOOOOOSH!

The water sizzled.

I whirled. A Hork-Bajir aimed at my head.

TSEEEEEEW-buh-LOOOOOOSH!

I dodged.

TSEEEEEEW-buh-LOOOOOOSH!

I dove.

The Hork-Bajir raised his weapon again.
FFFFFwwwpppwwppppwwppp.

A whirling blur whipped over my head. A boomerang! It struck the Hork-Bajir in the throat, knocking him backward into the grass. His serpent neck was sliced nearly in half. I turned. Yami and his uncles were above me, crouched on the rocky bluff of the cliff.

I don't know much about male Red Kangaroos. How aggressive are they? Is it normal for them to basically jump into combat like that?

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HIJK
Nov 25, 2012
in the room where you sleep
A book about Australia could have been super dope but instead we got this :(

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