"Gah!" I cried. "Gah Fillat!" But what could I say to him? There was nothing I could do. As I watched in horror, his face twisted, his eyes bulged.
We ran.
We ran and ran.
We ran down the valley, down toward our temporary home among the Am. We had nowhere else to go.
We ran through the blue mist, down to the edge of the cliff. Smoke billowed up from the wall-city. I heard distant cries. The voices of the Am.
And as we stood there, we saw an Andalite fighter rise up through the smoke. Behind it, a transport. Another fighter. The second transport. All that was left of the Andalite task force.
We stood there watching as they rose, up and up, gaining speed. They disappeared into the blue mist. Watching the last of our pathetic hopes evaporate.
We stood there on the edge of that cliff, knowing the Quantum virus was spreading on the wind, and knowing that the Andalites were leaving forever.
The end had come. The war was lost.
"It's over," Aldreasaid. "The Andalites are gone. The Hork-Bajir are doomed."
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202 But even now, I was not ready to surrender. Yes, the Andalites were gone. But surely there was still some hope. Surely there had to be some hope for my people.
"There are valleys the virus will not reach for a time," I said. "Some will survive. Surely some will survive. And . . . and there are still the trees."
"And us," Aldreasaid. "For now, fora while, we will have us."
We stood there for a long time. The passing of the Andalite ships had left swirls in the blue mist. But then the swirls were gone. All that remained were the pillars of smoke and the faint cries of those who had created my people.
And in orbit, and in all the valleys, and in the very heads of my people, there were the Yeerks.
I was Dak Hamee. Hork-Bajir seer. But I could not see the future. I could not see the hope I knew must still be there.
But I could see Aldrea. Different now, a Hork-Bajir. And yet still Aldrea. I could see her. And that would be enough.
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Jara Hamee's voice fell silent.
I ruffled my wings to shake the morning dew from them. The fire was gone, not even embers now. The Hork-Bajir had all gone to sleep long ago.
All but Jara Hamee. They'd all heard the story before.
«That's an amazing story,» I said to Jara Hamee. «Not exactly a happy one, though.»
"Yes. Good story. Sad story," Jara said. "Jara Hamee tell. Father tell Jara Hamee. Father-father tell father. I tell daughter."
He looked fondly at the young Hork-Bajir who had curled up beside her mother in the night.
«Your daughter? I still can't always tell male Hork-Bajir from female Hork-Bajir,» I admitted. «But what's the end of the story? You didn't tell me the end.»
"Story have no end," Jara said, laughing like I was a great fool. "Stories go on."
«l guess you're right. Besides, I guess I don't
204 want to know the next part of that story. It was pretty sad. Too easy to see my own people going the way of the Hork-Bajir. Still, I wish I knew what became of Dak and Aldrea. And even Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six.»
"Jara know that. Dak Hamee and Aldrea daughter of Seerow live. Have child. Then die."
«The child was your father?»
"Yes." Once again, Jara looked at me like I was dense. "Dak and Aldrea have son. Son called Seerow. In honor of Seerow. Not Hork-Bajir name."
«No, I kind of figured that out»
"Son Seerow have son. That son, Jara Hamee!"
«Well. There you go, then. And Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six?»
Jara looked slyly at me. "Tobias knows Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six."
Yes. Of course, I did. The Yeerk who was obsessed by Andalites. The Yeerk who had managed to survive despite everything.
«VisserThree?»
"Visser Three."
I sighed. I had come to the Hork-Bajir looking to feel better. Now I was more depressed than before. And I was sleepy. And hungry.
It wasn't a good story for a person already wondering what the point of his life was. The Yeerks had
205 won. Evil had triumphed. The Hork-Bajir, all except this small band, were enslaved.
The Hork-Bajir began waking up, stirring, opening their eyes. They were probably stiff from lying in these unaccustomed positions on the ground. After all, they were used to life in the trees.
Ket Halpak woke up and smiled at me. Her daughter did not smile, just looked at me curiously.
«Thanks for telling me the story, Jara,» I said. «l guess ... I guess we can hope that someday there will be another great Hork-Bajir seer like Dak Hamee. Maybe he'll be luckier, huh?»
"Yes," Jara Hamee said.
"Yes," Ket Halpak agreed.
I opened my wings, ready to catch the breeze.
"Tobias," Jara said. "This daughter named Toby. Name for Tobias."
«Wow. That's an honor, Jara and Ket» I was really touched. It was a typically sweet Hork-Bajir thing to do. «But it's kind of a strange name for a Hork-Bajir, isn't it?»
"Yes," Ket agreed. "Strange name."
"Good name," Jara said. "Toby is different."
"Yes," Ket agreed, "Toby is different."
I smiled to myself and caught the breeze beneath my wings. But then, just as I lifted off, I felt the strangest tingling sensation. I veered back and floated above the Hork-Bajir.
206 «When you say Toby is different. . .» Jara and Ket didn't answer. Instead, the Hork-Bajir girl herself looked up at me and smiled a very serious smile. "Yes, Tobias, friend of the Hork-Bajir. Yes, I am different."
The wind picked me up then, and I soared up and away. But with my hawk's eyes I watched them for a long time. And at some point, I started feeling really good. I felt happy because Jara Hamee was right. Stories have no end. And my namesake, Toby Hamee, the descendant of a brave Andalite girl and a Hork-Bajir seer, was going to write the next chapter.
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The Hork-Bajir Chronicles Page 13
