I bet there's a Andalite scientist who has spent her entire post-doc trying to figure out how the hell Visser One's morphing works at a conceptual level.
Edit: Wow, what a terrible top of page.
Anyway, Tobias being a bird morphing snob and styling on people with his expert bird tricks never stops being funny, even here in the endgame. I don't know why, but I actually remembered that line about golden eagles being tightly wound before you toss a Yeerk inside of them, but it always sounded like something Tobias would say instead.
Golden Eagle was David's raptor morph, I can understand why Marco might have bad memories with the species after that.
I mean its dumb but we have the Visser 1 and Alloran combo who has shown since book 1 if the host morphs it just sort of brings the Yeerk along for the ride and we handwave why.
Maybe when infested the Yeerk counts as 'part' of the host. Like clothes 
Yeah, there's probably something like a feature to the morphing technology that allows the microorganism ecosystem of an organism to morph along with it, and it would also allow Yeerks unfortunately.
I'm thinking that Yeerk commanding officers don't want to give the morphing power to the Yeerk itself. It would make defection easier and a pain for the invasion especially if they unknowingly give it to Peace Movement members. Giving it to the host also gives them more control over their forces. It's another level of desirable host that they can use to reward and punish Yeerk soldiers. With how Yeerks treat others who threaten their power this is definitely a tool they'll want to use to secure their own place on top. Some of them probably already realize that they can use morphing to relieve Yeerks of their fate as parasites, but at this point their only concern is control and conquest.
An andalite did it
It probably works under the same principle as terminators traveling back in time. They have a metal endoskeleton with a synthetic organic exterior, which the time machine can send back in time.
I would've assumed V3/1 would jealously guard his status as the only Yeerk morpher, but I guess not.
Some of them probably already realize that they can use morphing to relieve Yeerks of their fate as parasites, but at this point their only concern is control and conquest.
It's interesting to think that all the Yeerks stuck on the blockaded homeworld might jump at the chance and have never been all that keen at enslavement anyway, but the Yeerk Empire is a couple of generations of hardcore militaristic fascists now where the means are as important as the ends.
For Yeerk hosts morphing, if you squint you can see the outlines of a version where the original body, or at least brain, always ends up stored in Z-space and the morph body is basically a remote-controlled construct, and the Yeerk is shifted along with the brain. The one bit it's logically inconsistent with is morphing healing the human body (instead of solely undoing damage suffered while in morph), but the books themselves are inconsistent on that point and you might be able to wave it away as "it's like when they used the transporter buffer to reverse stuff in that one episode".
I do think its pretty funny that between this and the Animorphs using Tobias as a backup for the Auxiliary Animorphs, Red-Tailed Hawks are now like the most common morph on Earth across the morphing population
Funny thought, but
red-tailed hawks genuinely are the most common bird of prey in North America, so this bit is actually on point.
Sorry about this, but posts tomorrow. As for how the Yeerk manages to survive the transformation, my guess is a joined Yeerk basically melds with the brain itself, so it's effectively part of its host's brain at that point.
That makes sense, since they gotta have warning to bail.
For Yeerk hosts morphing, if you squint you can see the outlines of a version where the original body, or at least brain, always ends up stored in Z-space and the morph body is basically a remote-controlled construct, and the Yeerk is shifted along with the brain. The one bit it's logically inconsistent with is morphing healing the human body (instead of solely undoing damage suffered while in morph), but the books themselves are inconsistent on that point and you might be able to wave it away as "it's like when they used the transporter buffer to reverse stuff in that one episode".
Eh, didn't they only fuck that up in one or two of the Megamorphs?
Eh, didn't they only fuck that up in one or two of the Megamorphs?
The only book it doesn't happen in is Megamorphs 2 because the writer wanted to give Tobias and Rachel a reason to be stranded from the rest and wrote in a clunky 'iunno, looks like morphing doesn't heal us when we're in the past???'
Its pretty consistent every other time it shows up.
my theory is: morphing is magic
New plan: yeerk infests morph-capable host, morphs a different yeerk, then goes nothlit. Now the host's consciousness and the yeerk's own mind are permanently fused in a yeerk body. This yeerk then infests another morph-capable host, let's say a hork-bajir, and likewise goes nothlit-yeerk-morph. Now the controlling yeerk has 2 host consciousnesses under its control. Repeat ad infinitum with many hosts of different species and get in on that Ellimist/Crayak bootstrapping to godhood action.
Chapter 5
quote:
I lay on my back, wings splayed across rough wooden planks, belly exposed. Wind whipped my feathers. The flatcar swayed beneath me.
The falcon circled above. Flapped its wings and climbed. Gained altitude for another hit. I closed my eyes. Shut out the clacking of the train, the screams of hawk and eagle. Ignored the crippling pain shooting through my body. Forced one image into my head: Marco. Healthy human Marco.
I felt my feathers liquefy. Felt them melt and dissolve into my skin. My legs thickened. Shot out to human length. The armored-plated scales covering them softened and smoothed into human skin. But I was still bird from the legs up, and I still couldn't move. Pain burned through my wings. I refocused the image: arms.
Currrrrrrunnnnnnch!
My wings straightened, stretched. The pain stretched, too. Longer. Thinner. Faded to a tingle, then disappeared as fingers popped from the ends of my arm-wings.
I flexed them. Opened my eyes.
I jerked to the side. Kicked at the falcon!
Talons skidded across my thigh and locked onto my flesh. The falcon squeezed a mass of muscle between its dagger-sharp toes and kept flying.
" AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
A golf ball-sized chunk of meat was ripped from my leg!
In human form, I could fend off the falcons.
In human form, I'd survive. Well, I'd survive longer than I would as an osprey.
But why volunteer for that kind of carnage?
I crawled to the tank. Sat with my back against the hull. Shoved the human image from my brain and thought of a different one: gorilla.
Want to bulk up? Forget bench presses and power shakes. Morph a gorilla.
I concentrated.
My chest and shoulders bulged. Stomach rippled. Biceps, deltoids, pecs. I was beefy. Buff. My hands grew to the size of catchers' mitts. My fingers swelled to sausages.
Currrrreeeeeeeek!
Human bones thickened. Arms shot out. My skull shifted. Back, then up. My face flattened. Jaw jutted forward. My skin darkened to a glistening black, and waves of coarse dark hair swept down my body.
I was Big Jim.
I leaped to the hull of the tank. The falcon dove and raked my arm. Another swept over my head, talons bared. A golden eagle swiped at my face.
But I was a gorilla. The eagle was merely an annoyance. A pest. As fierce as a mosquito but as easy to swat. I batted them away, like King Kong swatting airplanes from the top of the Empire State Building.
I turned and scanned the rail bed. The trees had thinned. The ground was leveling out. We were getting closer to the city.
Closer to Yeerk reinforcements.
Tobias shot around a tank three cars back, a golden eagle breathing down his neck. Two falcons buzzed and jabbed around him, taking whatever shots they could get.
<Tobias!> I yelled. <Time to bail.>
<You think?>
He flapped. Banked. Dove beneath the train.
The rail bed had been cut into the side of the hill. On one side the ground lay even with the bed of the flatcar. Even with the tank's treads.
Four chains, as big around as my arm, ran from huge steel loops welded to the tank to more huge loops welded to the flatcar, two in front, two in back. Each pair of chains criss-crossed and were locked down tight by giant steel buckles in the middle of each chain.
Tools. I needed tools. Easy. I'd been to Level 10 in Tank Commando. I knew where to get them. I leaped to the tank's hull. A big lockbox was built into the fender, the lid bolted shut with a brass padlock.
Simply not a problem for a gorilla. I ripped the lock loose, the brass folding in my fist like Play- Doh. Banged open the lid.
Yes! Ax. Shovel. Mondo-huge wrench. Pointy chisel-looking bar. Sledgehammer.
I pulled the sledgehammer from the box. Leaped to the back of the tank.
The wood blocks were still wedged against the tank's treads, anchored by steel spikes driven through the blocks into the bed of the flatcar.
WHAM!
One block was airborne.
WHAM!
The other flew into the trees.
I grabbed one of the big metal buckles and gave it a twist. The chain loosened. I twisted both buckles till I had plenty of slack, then leaped onto the tank and unhooked the chains from the steel loops. CLANG!
The chains slid to the floor of the flatcar.
The big gun was locked down into a bracket on the rear of the tank's hull. Since I was back there anyway, I ripped it free and leaped to the front of the tank.
WHAM! WHAM!
Wood blocks flew.
I twisted. Leaped. Unhooked. The front chains fell away.
The tank was free.
<Tobias! Let's go.>
I leaped onto the turret. Knuckle-walked to one of the hatches leading inside. Twisted the padlock off and hurled it at the eagle on Tobias's tail. Ripped the hatch open. Tobias shot through, into the tank.
I swatted the eagle away, then heaved the sledgehammer at the train's engine. It sailed end over end, over the flatcars.
Slammed onto the roof of the locomotive and bounced.
EEEEEEEEEE!
Brakes squealed. The flatcar lurched.
I barreled into the tank and slammed the lid.
Bye-bye birdies.
There you go. Yeerks taken care of. Sort of. Partially?
Chapter 6
quote:
<Okay. Good.> I squinted in the semidarkness. The train had stopped. <We're safe.>
<Uh-huh.> Tobias flapped up onto a metal box. <Sealed inside a tin can, with Yeerk-infested birds nesting on top, waiting for reinforcements who will peel the lid off and kill us. We're not safe, Marco. We're dead.>
<Dead? I think not. You underestimate the power of this particular tin can.> I patted the mesh wall behind me.
The inside of the turret was a round metal basket. Everything in it - walls, floor, storage bins, equipment - had been painted white. Seats and storage bins filled the front and middle. My knees banged against a big metal box. An ammo rack jabbed my shoulder. The tank just wasn't built for a gorilla.
I demorphed and climbed into one of the seats. I peered through the vision block mounted above me. It was the gunner's site. Computerized. Equipped with night vision and infrared sensors. Just like the video game.
I could see the eagles and falcons. They were perched on the hull of the tank, waiting. The railroad guys were hiking along the tracks, searching the cars, searching under the cars, searching the trees. One of them was carrying the sledgehammer. Both of them looked really confused and a little ticked off.
I climbed from my seat. Stood in the center of the basket and tried to figure out what to do first.
"I assume we'll be taking this buggy for a joy-ride." Tobias had morphed into his human self. "If we can figure out how to start it."
"What do you mean, if we can figure out how to start it? You happen to be sitting next to the Tank Commando master of the Hork-Bajir valley."
"Right. Video-game expertise." He glanced around at the switches and levers. "So, what, we just rev it up and barrel off the side of the train?"
"Yeah. The train's stopped. The ground's almost level with the flatcar. Should be easy. I saw a tank crew do it on the History Channel."
"Ah. Video games and cable. How reassuring." He pulled a helmet from a hook on the side of the turret. "I should probably wear this."
"Probably. That piece in front is a microphone," I said. "And the ear thingies are speakers. The mike was attached to a thick wire that curved down from the side of the helmet, like a telephone headset. Tobias adjusted it in front of his mouth.
"I feel like Britney Spears," he said.
"Unfortunately for me, you don't look like her. Sit here. Plug the cord in and push that little switch forward so you can talk to me."
I climbed through the crawl space between the turret and the driver's area. Everything down there was painted white, too. I slid into the seat. It tipped back so far I was almost lying down. I slipped my helmet on. Plugged it in.
And took a deep breath.
I'll let you in on a little secret. Gunning down enemy troops in a video game does not actually prepare you to operate a real-life, sixty-ton tank. I mean, yeah, the controls looked familiar. I gripped the handlebar in front of me. And the equipment was all in basically the same spots as it was on my
PlayStation screen.
But this was the real deal. If I flipped the tank over, I couldn't hit ESCAPE and start again.
"How's it going down there?" Tobias's voice crackled into my helmet.
"Cool." I studied the instrument panel. "Everything's cool. Got it all figured out."
Which, I realized, was almost true. Because here's another little secret: Tank controls are amazingly well-marked. FUEL. START. MASTER SWITCH. It didn't take a genius to figure out how to get it rolling.
Was the army aware of this? Did they realize that, with a little trial and error, a third grader with a limited vocabulary could probably steal an entire tank?
I settled back into my seat. Pushed MASTER SWITCH. Heard a little hum as the instrument panel lit up.
I peered through my vision block. It wasn't a whiz-bang computerized periscope like the gunner's sight. It was more like a window. A slit of a window fitted with thick, bulletproof glass. The eagles and falcons were still perched on the tank. And they obviously knew something was up. They fluttered their feathers and stared at each other.
I pushed START.
RrrrrRRRRRRrrrrrrmmmmmm.
The engine spun up and fired. Out on the hull, our friends the birds screeched and flapped their wings. Okay. I could do this. I gripped the handlebar thing. Right grip, throttle. Left grip, transmission. Gear switch under my left thumb.
I took a breath. In about a minute we'd either be off the flatcar, ripping over the hills, or we'd be flipped over on the rail bed, like a big old metal bug on its back.
I kept the transmission in neutral and turned the handlebar a sharp left, it was sort of like riding my bike. Sort of. Revved the throttle. The tank rotated sideways on the bed of the flatcar. Its treads hung out over the edge, facing the cutout section of hill.
I straightened the handlebar. Shifted to drive. Pulled back on the throttle.
And we lunged forward into empty space.
We've seen how Marco drives. Now he has a tank.
I'm totally down for a whole book of Marco driving a tank hijinks.
Real ones would have done their homework and picked up Battletanx or Goldeneye for the perfect period-era reference, but level 10 in Tank Commando is fine too.
Chapter 7
quote:
The front of the treads rolled over the edge of the flatcar, supported by nothing. I could see level ground ahead. I held the throttle steady.
The tank tipped, nose down. The falcons and eagles bailed. They obviously had no confidence in my tank-driving abilities.
"Uh, Marco?" Neither, apparently, did Tobias.
WHOOOOOOMPH!
The tracks hit solid ground.
The tank hung halfway on the flatcar, half on the cutout part of the hill.
Then the treads grabbed onto the dirt and pulled us from the flatcar. We crawled across the cleared area next to the tracks. I found an opening in the line of trees, and we rattled off through the woods.
"Cake," I said.
I was very impressed with the tank. And, of course, myself. The M-1 clipped right along. It was a tank, but it could move. Anywhere. Up hills, over boulders, across ditches.
I bounced along in the driver's seat. Bushes crumbled and disappeared under my treads. Okay, and a couple of trees, too. And the corner of a railroad storage shed. It took me a while to get used to the steering.
The bird-Controllers had settled back onto the tank, their talons locked around hinges and handles, their wings bowed down against the hull.
My helmet crackled. "Call me crazy," said Tobias, "but when we abort a mission, I don't think we should bring the Yeerks home with us."
I heard a rattle above and behind me. The tank's big gun whipped to the front of the tank.
Knocked a golden eagle out cold. He fell from the tank. The gun swung to the rear and then around to the front again. The other birds took to the skies.
"Tobias? That was you, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. I found an operating manual back here. Pretty dry reading, but there's some stuff in it we can definitely use."
We thundered across a clearing. Slogged through a stream. Climbed the steep bank on the other side like it was downhill. Rattled through the underbrush and back into the trees. The bird-Controllers swooped overhead.
Tobias spun the gun again. The eagles and falcons screeched and flapped toward the sky.
I thundered along, the turret basket whirling inches behind my head, trying not to get the gun tube stuck in the side of a hill or caught in a tree.
Trying to keep my eyes focused through the vision block. The woods flashed by in a blur.
THUNNNNNG.
The tank tipped sideways. Kept rolling. Thumped back to level ground.
"This is way cooler than a tank sim," said Tobias. "Think Jake'd let us keep an M-1 up in the ... Marco! Watch out!!"
"Watch what? I can't see very well."
"I know. But I can. Stop. Stop!"
I pushed down on the brake. The tank jerked to a stop. I bounced forward, then back. I peered through my vision block.
And all I saw was sky. Acres and acres of empty air. We'd left the woods and were perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Interstate.
The falcons and eagles had disappeared. Smart birds.
My helmet sputtered. "Uh, Marco? Does this thing have reverse?"
I glanced at the gear switch. "Yeah."
I pressed the switch with my thumb. Gave it gas. The tank started to roll. Forward.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" Tobias screamed in my ear.
I slammed on the brake. The tank stopped. Chunks of earth crumbled beneath the treads and plummeted from the cliff.
"Not reverse," I said.
"No kidding."
I pressed the gear switch again. Twisted the throttle toward me a fraction of a centimeter.
The tank inched backward.
I cranked the throttle. Backed to the edge of the woods. Sat in the shadow of the trees and let the tank idle.
The "cliff" was a hill the highway department had blasted through when they built the Interstate. It sloped down on either side till it was level with the road.
I cranked the handlebar. Turned the tank. We thundered down the hill. I turned again. Plowed through the ditch and up onto the highway.
"Uh, Marco? You sure you know what you're doing?" Tobias said.
"Sure. This puppy can do sixty-five, no sweat."
"Yeah, sixty-five in the wrong direction!"
I stared out at the highway. It was divided, with a concrete barrier between the two sides. And our side was going the wrong way.
Not much I could do about that but keep going. And hope the other vehicles were smart enough to get out of the way.
They were.
A brand-new Lexus shrieked off to the side of the road. A rusty old pickup filled with wood planks followed it. A minivan driven by a soccer-mom skidded after them. An SUV driven by a guy in a suit swerved right behind.
So far, everyone was working with us.
Except for the eighteen-wheeler.
It kept on barreling toward us. I slowed down. Veered toward the shoulder. Plowed over a bank of road signs. Veered back onto the highway to avoid a stalled-out jeep.
Still the truck bore down on us. We were close enough now so I could see the driver's face. He was smiling. No, he was laughing.
"Is the guy a total idiot?" Tobias cried. "He's playing chicken with a tank. A tank!"
"He is bigger."
"Yeah? Well, we're better equipped." The big gun rattled. Swung to the right.
"You can't shoot him, Tobias!"
"He doesn't know that."
The cannon rattled again. Up, this time. Straight at the truck's window.
The trucker's smile froze. He cranked his steering wheel and swerved into the next lane.
"That'll learn him," I muttered.
it's official. Marco and Tobias should not be goven a tank.
Chapter 8
quote:
Jake frowned. "So, where did you leave the tank?"
Tobias and I looked at each other.
We were back in the Hork-Bajir valley, seated around the campfire outside my parents' cabin. Crickets hummed. The setting sun bathed the valley in amber rays. Champ, Tobias's mom's dog, drowsed at our feet. It was peaceful. It was nice.
It was a council of war.
The Joint Chiefs of Staff were all present. Me, Tobias, Rachel, Cassie, Jake, and Ax. And, since we'd moved to the valley, we'd added two more members.
Toby, the Hork-Bajir seer. Seer, meaning smarter than the average Hork-Bajir. Meaning two-plus-two actually held some meaning for her. So did quantum physics.
The second new member was my mom.
"The tank." I took a breath. "Well, you know Chapman's house? Nice two-story?"
Jake sighed. "How many stories is it now?"
"Uh ..." I glanced at Tobias. "Zero? But the back deck will give Chapman a nice supply of firewood this winter. It's already piled up for him."
Tobias smiled. "Too bad he doesn't have a fireplace anymore."
"Excuse me?" said Rachel. "You flattened Melissa's house?"
She stared at me. She and Melissa Chapman used to be friends. Back before Melissa's dad became a Controller and Rachel became an Animorph.
She turned on Tobias. "And you went along with it?"
"Whoa. Down, girl," I said. "You're just mad because you didn't get to drive a tank. Nobody got hurt. Nobody was home. Not even Fluffer McNutter or whatever that stupid cat's name is."
"Fluffer McKitty," she said.
"Oh. Excuse me. Fluffer McKitty. That's so much better. Anyway, they're all fine. Melissa, her parents, her cat."
Tobias nodded. "They're just, well, homeless."
Rachel shook her head. Looked to Jake to back her up.
Jake said ... nothing.
We waited for his reprimand. For his poorly concealed amusement. For his: "That's not exactly what I meant by low profile, Marco." All the normal Jake stuff.
The fire popped. Somebody's nylon jacket squeaked. Ax nailed a mosquito with the flat of his tailblade.
Jake sighed again and poked the campfire with a stick.
I frowned. Looked at Ax. He shrugged, one of the many human gestures he'd picked up.
Since we'd moved to the valley, Jake had been on autopilot. I didn't know how to talk to him anymore. This was Jake. My best friend since second grade, and I couldn't even have a superficial, meaningless conversation with him. Let alone try to get into his head.
Part of it was me. My guilt. Yeah, big news flash, call the Associated Press, Marco feels guilty.
Well, wouldn't you? My family was safe, recovered, together, while Jake's had been torn away from him. There was only a very slim chance he'd ever get them back.
But that wasn't exactly why I felt guilty.
I felt guilty because I was so happy. Happy my mom was back. Happy that she and my dad were still nauseatingly in love. My best friend had lost everything that had ever meant anything to him. Meanwhile, I practically had to tie myself to a tree to keep from running up and down the valley, arms
spread wide, belting out show tunes.
I glanced at Cassie. She sat on top of the old picnic table Ax and I had found and dragged to the camp. She sat away from the fire. Away from the whole group.
I figured if anybody could get through to Jake, Cassie could. I mean, she's Cassie, for pete's sake. But since our last mission, since the Yeerks had stolen the morphing cube, Jake was more distant from her than from anybody. Distant? Actually where Cassie was concerned, Jake had completely closed down. Like an iron door had slammed shut.
"But did you get any information?" Toby looked at Tobias, then me. She was crouched in the grass, the light from the smoldering logs intensifying the fire in her Hork-Bajir eyes. "Did you discover anything useful?"
Tobias scratched Champ's ears. "You mean before we stole government property, endangered innocent motorists, and leveled a moderately priced suburban home?"
"Yes." She nodded.
"Well, we did manage to get a good look at the train," I said. "The National Guard wasn't moving those tanks. Not the regular, uninfested National Guard anyway."
"The uninfested National Guard." Jake nodded. Stirred the fire. "We've been assuming there still is such a thing." He turned to my mom. "Eva, is there any chance we're wrong?"
"No." Mom shook her head. "If Visser Three had taken over the National Guard while I was Visser One's host body, I'd have known about it. What am I saying? Everybody would've known about it. Visser Three would've made sure."
"What about since then?" said Jake. "Since he was promoted to Visser One?"
"No." Mom shook her head again. "Not enough time. We're talking thousands of soldiers, spread out over the entire state. And they're not on active duty. They're weekend warriors, so most of the time they're not even with their units. This is a huge operation. It'd take months to plan, months more to execute."
"Okay." Jake paced. Poked his stick at the fire. "With all the troop movement over the last few days, we can assume the planning stage is done. So I'm assuming the execution stage is beginning. We can also assume at least some of the highest ranking officers are Controllers. Otherwise, the visser wouldn't be able to get all those soldiers into the city. They'll all be infested. Soon. We can't let that happen."
<But how can we be sure we can stop it?> Ax asked. His blue fur gleamed in the firelight.
<Even with James and the other new Animorphs, are we big enough?>
"No. We're not. We need help." Pace. Pace. Poke. "So, we split up. One group is the in-your-face group." Jake glanced at Rachel. "That group creates a diversion with the National Guard troops. Keeps them away from the Yeerk pool as long as possible. They're stationed all over the city, so we'll have to keep moving to hit all the bases. But it'll also split Visser One's resources, trying to stop us. It'll keep him busy. Buy us some time."
"We have been planning to liberate the group of Hork-Bajir that guard The Sharing headquarters," said Toby. "We can be ready to go in the morning."
"Good. That'll be one more fire Visser One has to put out. Group Two will be smaller, quieter. They'll need to show a little more finesse."
"Finesse?" Rachel shot me a sideways look. "Oh, yeah. Some of us are so good at that."
"We'll have to be," said Jake. "Because only one person has enough authority to stop the movement of National Guard troops. The governor. Group Two has to travel to the capitol. Get to the governor somehow. Convince him to work with us."
"I'll go," Cassie said.
"No," Jake replied, practically before the words were out of her mouth.
Cassie froze. Stared at him.
Jake didn't even look at her.
Instead, he gave me a sarcastic half-smile. A glimpse of the old Jake. "If anybody can handle a politician, it's Marco. And Tobias can get to the capitol without getting lost. We also need to make sure the governor isn't a Controller, and Ax is the most qualified to judge. So that's the second group.
Marco, Ax, and Tobias." That's when he finally looked at Cassie. Locked his gaze on her.
"I can trust them," he said.
Silence.
Jake turned back to us and continued, "I'll be with Group One. Rachel. Cassie. Toby and some of her people. James's group, too. We'll try to stir up some major chaos before midnight. Marco, you need to reach the governor some time tomorrow. Doesn't matter exactly when, just get there." He stopped pacing. Stopped poking the fire. Looked at me. At Ax and Tobias. "I know this sounds melodramatic, but we can't fight this war alone anymore. We need the authorities on our side. If the governor is free, you have to find a way to convince him. If he's a Controller, well, we'll have to figure out Plan B."
"Oh. Well," I said. "As long as there's no pressure."
"And try to keep things down. We don't need Visser One figuring out what we're up to." The half-smile again. "I'm counting on you guys to be cool. And to handle this the best way you know how."
"Be cool? Handle this? Marco?" Rachel shook her head. "We are in serious trouble."
So is this the first governor who Tom's first Yeerk was going to take as host?
Also, poor Melissa.
Chapter 7
it's official. Marco and Tobias should not be goven a tank.
Chapter 8
So is this the first governor who Tom's first Yeerk was going to take as host?
Also, poor Melissa.
Melissa Chapman is 100% dead at this point, I'm certain of it. Doubly so after being crushed by Marco's tank. Also I think the fandom has settled on "different governor" than the one from The Capture, because the gov that Temrash was going to infest is identified with male pronouns, whereas the one who shows up in person here in this book is a woman, and none of the subsequent reprintings of The Capture nor officially sanctioned audiobooks have gone back and done any edits for the sake of continuity.
Jake just called the Governor him though. Maybe they just don't know?
Jake just called the Governor him though. Maybe they just don't know?
The governor was housesitting for the Chapmans....
The governor was housesitting for the Chapmans....
While Mr Chapman was off at his second job as a forklift driver
I think the official timeline is that the books take place over a 3 or so year period, so there's plenty of time for a new governor to take office.
Jake just called the Governor him though. Maybe they just don't know?
Also yeah, a group of politically ignorant/apathetic 13-15 year olds not knowing who the governor of their state is and just defaulting to "white male politically-shaped person" if pressed totally tracks
Melissa Chapman is 100% dead at this point, I'm certain of it. Doubly so after being crushed by Marco's tank.
I'm not convinced she's dead but at the very least she's been infested after the Yeerks figured out Rachel is one of the bandits.
Untrained teenagers easily figuring out how to operate a tank is completely unbelievable, but it's also primo Marco and Tobias content so consider my disbelief happily suspended
Untrained teenagers easily figuring out how to operate a tank is completely unbelievable
Modern tanks are in fact designed for untrained teenagers to figure out how to operate (in training camp). Teenagers with much less education than this.
Reminds me of those WW2 tank manuals with cartoons of naked women all over them so the 17 year olds will read the damn thing.
I'm er reading it for the instructions on changing the oil in the multimillion dollar war machine
I'm er reading it for the instructions on changing the oil in the multimillion dollar war machine
"just reading it for the reticules"
i know this book has been slow, but i have to take tonight off too. Enjoy your sexy tanks and we'll see what happens tomorrow.
I feel like this sort of shenanigans is the kind of stuff the gang should have been doing semi-regularly by halfway through the series. More ruining the Yeerk's plans in incredibly public and insane ways that can't be covered up by local police. Rather than irrelevant plots like the seastar thing or the Australia thing.
I feel like this sort of shenanigans is the kind of stuff the gang should have been doing semi-regularly by halfway through the series. More ruining the Yeerk's plans in incredibly public and insane ways that can't be covered up by local police. Rather than irrelevant plots like the seastar thing or the Australia thing.
The problem with that is that they've been very careful (...well...) to not give the Yeerks reasons to think they're anything other than some Andalites who managed to make it off the Dome ship. More public also makes the war kick into invasion versus infiltration, when the strategic plan has been to delay the Yeerks until the Andalites cavalry comes riding into the solar system.
More practically from a Scholastic publishing viewpoint, "The Gang go on increasingly dangerous adventures to get the grown ups to notice the problem" is... a problematic theme for a book series aimed at elementary school kids.
The problem with that is that they've been very careful (...well...) to not give the Yeerks reasons to think they're anything other than some Andalites who managed to make it off the Dome ship. More public also makes the war kick into invasion versus infiltration, when the strategic plan has been to delay the Yeerks until the Andalites cavalry comes riding into the solar system.
More practically from a Scholastic publishing viewpoint, "The Gang go on increasingly dangerous adventures to get the grown ups to notice the problem" is... a problematic theme for a book series aimed at elementary school kids.
It's incredibly obvious in retrospect that Michael Grant wanted to either be done with Animorphs or forcibly age it into the YA bracket, because the Gone books are just ruthlessly violent, both physically and mentally while still feeling like "a late teenage version of Animorphs... in rehab."
Also they're really fucking good books too.
quote:
That's when he finally looked at Cassie. Locked his gaze on her.
"I can trust them," he said.
Ouch.
The problem with that is that they've been very careful (...well...) to not give the Yeerks reasons to think they're anything other than some Andalites who managed to make it off the Dome ship. More public also makes the war kick into invasion versus infiltration, when the strategic plan has been to delay the Yeerks until the Andalites cavalry comes riding into the solar system.
More practically from a Scholastic publishing viewpoint, "The Gang go on increasingly dangerous adventures to get the grown ups to notice the problem" is... a problematic theme for a book series aimed at elementary school kids.
I mean I think its clear no one from Scholastic was seriously reading these books before release or we probably wouldn't have gotten nearly as much horrifying gore and ruminations on the fratricide. Especially because a lot of books do revolve around them going on increasingly dangerous adventures to get people to notice the issue
Remember when they crashed the G8 in Rhino/Elephant morph?
Cassie may think she did the right thing, but Jake will never forgive her for it. And he shouldn't!
Cassie may think she did the right thing, but Jake will never forgive her for it. And he shouldn't!
I'm honestly not sure if I've ever seen a moment in all the fiction I've read that's so quick and so small yet so ruinous to an interpersonal relationship (let alone everything else) as what Cassie tackling Jake so Tom could get away did to her and Jake as people. Jake fucking unpersons her for it, and it sticks
for the rest of his life (?).
Chapter 9
quote:
Weds slapped at our faces. Mud sucked at our feet - well, two of us anyway. We waded into the swamp and crouched behind a stand of cattails. Me, Ax, Tobias perched on Ax's shoulder. Group Two. The ones with "finesse."
We were at The Gardens, in the wetlands section that divided the zoo from the amusement park.
The sun was rising behind the Ferris wheel. An early morning fog rose from the water.
Birds filled the big, marshy pond. Ducks, geese, swans, pelicans, cranes. Flamingoes.
<Hey,> said Tobias. <We can morph lawn ornaments.>
The capitol was over two hundred miles away. The fastest way to get there was by air, and our normal bird-of-prey morphs wouldn't do the job. We needed distance flyers. Ducks. Our plan was to get in, acquire the necessary DNA, and get out before The Gardens opened for the day. And at the edge of the water, near our cattail hideout, swam a family of mallards.
We hunkered down and waited for them to drift closer.
"Anybody know the best way to catch a duck?" I whispered.
Ax peered through the cattails. <I have been observing these animals very closely.> His main eyes studied a group of ducklings, while his stalk eyes followed a big male duck that bobbed near the cattails. <They are quick and agile, but they spend a great deal of time with their heads underwater.>
<They're eating,> Tobias explained.
<Ah.> Ax nodded. <You see how much safer and more efficient it would be for them if they fed through their feet? Capturing a member of this species while its front half is submerged should be relatively simple.>
Simple. Right. When was the last time anything in our lives was simple?
The male paddled into the cattails. I could tell he was a male, a drake, by his shimmery green head, his cinnamon-brown chest, and the band of white that divided the two like a neck lace. In the duck world, the boys get to be the pretty ones. All the girl ducks were a drab, splotchy brown.
The drake swam closer. Dipped his beak into the water.
I raised my arms. Slowly. I tensed, ready to grab him as soon as he dove for food.
Sploot.
Something heavy and wet landed on my head. Part of it slid down my face and latched on to my cheek.
"Gree-deep," said the heavy, wet thing.
Great. I lifted my hand. Started to shove it off. The drake drifted closer. I froze.
<Marco, do you realize that there is a large amphibian on your head?>
<It's a bullfrog, Ax-man,> said Tobias.
"Gree-deep," said the frog.
The mallard turned. Watched me. Paddled away.
I poked the bullfrog.
"Oh, man." I groaned. "I think it just peed on me."
I started to poke him again, then stood very still. One of the female mallards had paddled into the cattails.
She nipped at something in the water. Floated. Nipped again. Plunged her head beneath the surface. Her bottom bobbed on top.
I lunged. Grabbed the duck around the middle. Held her wings tight to her body and pulled her from the water.
She thrashed and quacked. The other ducks squawked and flapped away.
I turned toward shore. The frog slid down my face and over my eyes.
I flung my head, tried to shake him loose. Kept my grip on the duck. Reeled blindly in the water.
"QUAAAAAAAAAACK."
The duck let out a cry and wrenched a wing from under my grip. Beat it against my arm, my face. Lashed out with her feet.
You think just because they're webbed, duck feet don't have claws? They do. And they're sharp.
Two kicks shredded my forearms.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
I screamed. The pond erupted in quacks, honks, and screeches. Water sprayed over me. Cattails sliced at my face.
The bullfrog stayed planted on my head.
I stood totally still and concentrated on the duck in my hands. On the duck that was kicking, flapping, flailing. I had to focus. Had to acquire it before it got away.
"QUAAAAAAAAAACK."
Something small, hard, and sharp clamped down on my nose.
" AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
I screamed. The duck had bit me! She gave one more major thrash and slipped from my hands.
"QUAAAAAAAAAACK."
Her wings beat against my face as she flapped away.
"Gree-deep."
The frog leaped into the cattails.
"Oh, now you decide to leave," I said. I slogged toward the bank.
<Stay still, Marco. I believe I have one.> Ax vaulted into the pond in a beautiful, perfect arc, his Andalite form clearly outlined in the morning sun.
"Daddy, Daddy! Look! It's a unicorn." I whirled.
A little girl was pulling her dad toward the duck pond. A group of grade-school kids on a field trip jostled along the sidewalk behind them.
"The park's open," I yelled to Ax and Tobias. "Let's get what we came for and get out!"
"A blue unicorn, Daddy. Look!"
"There's no such thing as a unicorn, sweetheart. That's a, well, it's a ... an antelope. Yes, an antelope. That's it. Probably from ... Africa. An African antelope."
Ax, the blue Andalite/African antelope, splashed through the water, chasing the mallard. Ducks and geese quacked, honked, and thrashed over the pond. I sloshed after him, into the path of oncoming birds, trying to nab one as it flapped by. I could hear the field trip kids shouting behind me.
"Hey, what's that kid doing in the water?"
"Looks like he's target practice for those birds."
"Can we go swimming, too, Mrs. Duncan, please?"
I dove. Ax lunged. Ducks skidded across the water.
<I'll handle this,> Tobias said.
He took to the sky and circled. Spilled air from his wings and dove. Swooped over the water and landed easily on a mallard's back. The duck squawked and splashed and tried to fly away. Tobias sank his talons into its feathers. The duck relaxed. It had fallen into an acquiring trance.
<Marco. Your turn,> said Tobias.
I splashed out to the duck. Grabbed him around the middle. Pressed my hands against his feathers. Had to start acquiring him before he snapped out of it.
I shut out the squawks and squeals around me, the shouts and laughs from the shore. Concentrated on the duck.
"Ax. You ready?" I sloshed toward him, duck in hand.
Ax reached for it.
"Andalite!"
I spun. One of teachers pushed her way through the mob of field trip kids. She knocked a zoo guard onto the concrete and pulled a gun from his holster.
Damn duck hunting field trips.
Also, the dad was wrong. Apparently Ax is not an antelope.
Chapter 10
quote:
"Ax! Get back!"
Ax dove into the cattails. I dove after him, still carrying the droopy duck.
Wooooooooosh.
What I guess was a tranquilizer dart pierced the weeds.
I handed the duck off to Ax in a weird DNA water relay.
TSSSSSEEEEEEEEW-buh-loooooosh.
A Dracon beam vaporized the water beside me. Human-Controllers leaped into the pond and splashed toward the cattails.
Others, still on the bank, began changing. Shrinking, shifting ... morphing. A leopard emerged from a security guard, a golden eagle from an ice-cream vendor.
<Man, I liked it better when only we could do that,> I said.
<I've got the eagle,> Tobias called from overhead.
"TSEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!"
He dove. Hit the eagle before it had finished the morph. Circled for another shot.
"RoaaAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWR."
The leopard leaped at Ax, teeth bared.
Fwap! Fwap!
Ax, still holding the duck, struck back with his bladed tail.
TSSSSSEEEEEEEEW-buh-loooooosh.
Human-Controllers charged through the pond, firing Dracons.
I took a deep breath. Filled my lungs with air and dove into the shallow water. I focused. Tried not to move. Tried not to make waves or bubbles. And then it started. I felt my muscles bulge. Bones realign. Felt pin prickles as fur popped from my skin.
But I was running out of air! My lungs burned. My eyes burned. Still, I concentrated. Felt my skull bulge. My jaw jut forward.
Finally, I erupted from the water. Gulped in air. Tore through the cattails and leaped onto the bank. I was Marco the gorilla. And I was looking to kick some Controller butt.
TSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEW!
A Dracon beam fried the cattails. I whirled. A human-Controller stood at the edge of the water. He raised his handheld Dracon and aimed it at my chest. I leaped. Knocked the Dracon into the water with one fist. Slammed the Controller unconscious with the other.
More human-Controllers charged me from behind. Jumped onto my back. Beat me with sticks and rocks and cell phones. One of the Controllers jabbed at my eyes with her car keys.
I whirled. Flung the Controllers away, one by one. One by one they sailed over the sidewalk and
-
CRASH!
- flattened a slush stand.
"HONNNK. HONNNK."
A goose flapped up from the pond. It flew low, straight at me.
Another Controller? I lifted an arm, ready to swing. Ready to fend off its claws and beak.
But the goose just continued to beat its wings. It flew over my head toward the zoo. Not a Controller. Just a goose.
This was insane. Birds were starting to make me jumpy.
The battle had spilled into the amusement park section of The Gardens. Tobias and the eagle were locked in aerial combat above the roller coaster.
Ax galloped toward the merry-go-round. The leopard lay beside it, trying to drag itself underneath on three legs.
Ax stood above the leopard, tail blade poised.
"RoaaAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWR."
<Ax! Watch out!>
A cougar vaulted from the top of the merry-go-round. Sunk teeth and claws into Ax's back.
Fwap! Fwap-fwap!
Ax's tail blade lashed out.
Wooooosh.
Another tranquilizer dart shot past my head. Rippled the fur on my shoulder. I wheeled. Two human-Controllers stood at the edge of the log ride, on top of the waterfall. One held a gun.
TSSSSSEEEEEEEEEWWW!
The other wielded a Dracon.
I knuckle-leaped toward the log ride.
TSSSSSEEEEEEEEEWWW!
The concrete beneath me exploded.
I bounded over the wooden fence that separated the log ride from the sidewalk. Climbed through the synthetic jungle up the man-made mountain.
I was a gorilla. This was my territory. Okay, so the jungle was fiberglass and plastic, whatever. I tore through it anyway. Reached the top of the waterfall in fifteen seconds flat. The Controllers stood on the edge of the man-made river, peering out over the park. I ripped through a tangle of fake vines and leaped onto the edge of the river-way.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
They screamed. I hammered.
BAM! BAM!
Spuh-LOOOOOOOSH!
They plunged into the river.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhhh ..."
And shot over the waterfall.
"KYEEEEEER!"
A golden eagle's scream. I was above the roller coaster, and I could see down over the track, where an eagle and Tobias were still at it. The eagle screamed again and pummeled Tobias.
Tobias fell, one wing flapping, the other hanging limp at his side.
He spiraled. Down. Down.
<Tobias!>
Thump.
And landed on the elevated track of the roller coaster, in a dip at the bottom of a steep hill.
A roller-coaster car filled with passengers clanked up the other side of the hill.
<Get up! Tobias, get up!>
I bounded along the edge of the fiberglass river. The eagle hurtled toward Tobias, ready to finish him off.
The roller-coaster car reached the top of the hill and shot down the other side. It picked up speed as it traveled. Passengers squealed and flung their arms above their heads.
Tobias fluttered his good wing. His body flopped pitifully against the steel track.
He was too weak to get out of the way. It was too late!
<Tobias! No!>
I'm glad that Jake sent the team with finesse to the gardens.
Surely they could have gotten ducks from literally anywhere else.