Applegate, K A - Animorphs 02 - The Visitor

by The Visitor (lit)

  it was irrelevant. It had no meaning. The mouse was making a tiny little scritching sound as it worked its little teeth around a nut, trying to chew it open. I cared about that sound. I cared about that sound a lot. "Rachel, can you hear us? It's me, Cassie." less-than Yes, I can hear you. I just can't seem to concentrate very well on you. There are so many other things to hear and see and smell. greater-than "Well, at least she's not running around out of control," Marco said. Suddenly I sensed something over my head, a shape, a shadow, a figure. Lightning quick, I turned my head. My ears flattened back against my skull. The hair on my back stood up and my tail puffed out to three times its normal size. My claws extended. I drew back my mouth and showed my teeth. It all happened in a split second. I was ready for battle. And whatever this was attacking me, I wanted it to know it would be sorry it messed with Fluff er McKitty. "Hhhhhiisssss!" I was ready to fight. I was pumped. Kill or be killed. It is so cool when you feel the razor-sharp claws sliding out of your delicate-looking pink pads. "Rachel, take a pill, girl, it's just Tobias," Cassie said soothingly. "Tobias? I think maybe you'd better stay away," she called up to the sky. "Cats are genetically programmed to be afraid of large birds." She was right. The shadow of Tobias scared me pretty good. It was strange, because it was a fear I shared with the shrew. But it was a different type of fear than the shrew's. This was more like I was angry, too. Only that wasn't quite it, either. I guess it wasn't a real emotion at all. Basically, when I'd hissed I was just trying to communicate. And the message I was trying to communicate was, "Don't mess with me. You may be bigger than me, you may scare me, you may make me run away, but if I have to I am ready to fight." That was my whole cat message to the world: Don't mess with me. Don't get in my way, don't try to touch me if I don't want to be touched, don't try to keep me from getting what I want. I was self-contained. I was complete. I didn't need anything but myself. It seemed lonely to my human self, but at the same time, it was all very calm somehow. less-than I'm okayeagreater-than I said. less-than like think I "m pretty much in control. greater-than "What's it like?" Cassie asked. less-than lt's like . . . You know those old cowboy movies with Clint Eastwood? He's a gunslinger and he walks into the saloon and everyone kind of gets out of his way? And how he's not really looking for trouble, but you'd better not make him mad? That's what it's like. It's like I'm Clint Eastwood. greater-than "Can you do this, do you think?" Jake asked me. less-than 0h, yeah. I can do anything. greater-than "Don't let the cat's arrogance get you in trou ble," Marco advised. "Keep a little of your good old human fear." He paused. "Oh, I forgot, mighty Rachel doesn't have any good old human fear. So here's what you do: Borrow some of my good old human fear. I have plenty to spare." "He's right, Rachel," Cassie agreed. "Keep focused. Between your own natural attitude and the cat's 'tude, you could get cocky." I cast a glance back toward the mouse. He had broken into the nut at last. I could kill him. I was sure of that. He was a plump little mouse, and I would catch him easily. But I wasn't hun gry. So he'd get to live a while longer. less-than No problemeagreater-than I said. "We're here if you get into a mess," Cassie re assured me. less-than l'll meow if I need help. Don't worry. I'm in control now. It'll be fine. greater-than But the truth is, I was lying, just a little. See, I wasn't completely in control of the cat. For some reason I didn't want to completely control the cat. I kind of liked his arrogance. It made me feel more sure of myself. And despite what the others thought about me, I needed all the confidence I could get. "The morph clock is ticking," Cassie said. "It's quarter of eight. Remember that." I headed at an easy trot do wn the sidewalk toward the Chapman home. As soon as I started moving I thought, Oh, man, if I could just keep some of this for my next gymnastics class. It was like grace beyond any grace you can imagine as a human. I passed a wooden fence. There was a railing up high, maybe three feet up. I looked up at it and then, before I could even think about it, I leaped. My powerful hind legs coiled up and released. I sailed through the air. Three feet straight up, and I was an animal that stood only about twelve or thirteen inches tall. It was the same as a human being just leaping to the top of a two- story building. And it was totally nothing. It was just auto matic. I wanted to jump, so I did. I wanted to stick the landing on a narrow two-inch-wide rail, and of course, no problem. Compared to a cat, the best gymnast who ever lived is like a big staggering cow or something. "Urn, Rachel, what exactly are you doing?" Jake asked. They were all standing there looking at me. I had totally forgotten they were still around. less-than Just practicingeagreater-than I said. I jumped back down to the grass. Okay, get the job done first, I or dered myself sternly. You can worry about the Kitty Olympics later. I started again toward the house, but this time something forced me to stop. It was a tele phone pole. The smell that emanated from it was overpowering. I went over to it. I sniffed it again and again in short snorts of air. The air was trapped in a series of chambers above my palette. It would be held there even while I went on breathing. That way I could get every possible bit of information from that smell. It was definitely a tom's scent. A tomcat had marked this pole by peeing on it. He was a dominant cat. Very dominant. His smell made me ner vous. Not afraid, just a little less arrogant than I had been. If this cat appeared, I would have to submit. I would have to make myself smaller and less threatening and accept his dominance. Or I could fight him and get my butt kicked. It was just the way things were. It was all there in the smell of his urine, where any cat could read it. I resumed trotting toward the Chapman home. less-than Rachel, are you sure you're in control8greater-than To bias's voice was in my head. less-than Why did you stop to sniff that pole8greater-than less-than like figured I should look like a real cateagreater-than I said. less-than like was just playing the part. greater-than less-than lf you say seagreater-than he said doubtfully. less-than Just re member: It's fun being an animal for a while. Not so fun when it's permanent. The two-hour clock is ticking. Tick tock. greater-than That got my attention. It was like a dash of cold water in my face. I focused my human mind and took greater control over the cat's mind. But it wasn't easy. The cat's mind did not even un derstand the notion of obeying. So I used something the cat would respond to. I conjured up the memory of the big tom's smell. That triggered the cat's submissiveness. I felt my part of the collective mind grow larger. less-than You're almost thereeagreater-than Tobias said. less-than This is the right yard. greater-than less-than Yes, I know. My scent is everywhere,-This whole area smells of me. This is home. This is all mine. greater-than less-than Rachel, this is all Chapman's. And Chapman belongs to Visser Three. Don't forget that. greater-than I trotted to the cat door. Chapman. Visser Three. Big deal. I was a combination of Rachel and Fluffer. What did I care about Chapman and Visser Three? The light inside the house was bright. My eyes adjusted instantly. My nose picked up the smell of cat food, too dry and old to interest me. I also smelled the humans: Melissa, Mr. Chapman, and Ms. Chapman. Don't ask me how I knew that what I smelled were those three peo ple. I just knew. I spotted a cockroach in the dust balls in the dark beneath the refrigerator. No interest to me. Roaches made interesting scritchy noises some- times, and they were fun to watch run. But they smelled wrong. They were not prey. Swift movements! Feet. Human feet. I didn't bother looking up. It was Ms. Chapman. High-pitched sounds coming from the motor of the refrigerator. They were annoying. There were also the sounds of birds outside. They had a nest up under the eaves. Then the sound of Melissa's voice. Where was she? I didn't see her anywhere. The sound was muffled. I tried to focus. My ears moved to point to ward the sound. It came from above me. Above and far away. She was in her bedroom, that's where. I couldn't hear the words clearly, but I knew that she was muttering to herself. I trotted across the kitchen floor. I knew -- as Rachel- I knew I should be afraid. But I couldn't be afraid. Everything here smelled like me. My scent glands had left their marks all over -- on that door, on that cupboard, on that chair. It re assured me. The big dominant tomcat's smell was not in here. No, there were no other cats in here at all. Only
human smells, and those were not very im portant. I left the kitchen and paused at the corner be tween the hallway and the family room. Chap man was there, in the living room. I could smell him. He was just sitting on the couch. I glanced at him and walked on. But then I stopped. My human brain sensed something wrong with the picture. Chapman was just sitting on the couch. No TV. No music. He wasn't reading a book or a newspaper. Just sit ting. I turned back to the kitchen. I looked up at Ms. Chapman. She was doing something at the sink. Maybe washing dishes. No, she was cut ting vegetables. But again, no TV. No music. She wasn't humming to herself. She wasn't talking to herself the way my mom does when she's working in the kitchen. Not right. Something was not right with either of the Chapmans. I went back to the hallway. There were stairs leading up to the bedrooms. From the hallway I could hear Melissa more clearly. I concentrated, trying to ignore the fascinating sounds of the birds under the eaves. I focused on the human sounds of Melissa's voice. "dis . . divided by the square root ... no, wait. No, square root times ... Is that right?" She was doing her homework. Her math home work, obviously. Like I should be doing, I thought. I had a pang of guilt. Instead of doing my homework, I was creeping around my friend's house spying on her and her parents. I tried to find a clock. I had to watch the time. At nine forty-five my two hours would be up. I wanted to be out of morph and back in my nor mal body long before then. Hopefully, I could still get home and do my math homework and at least do some of the reading for social studies class. I spotted a clock. It was over the mantel, be tween pictures of the Chapmans and Melissa. The clock said three minutes until eight. I had plenty of time. Sudden movement! Oh, just Chapman standing up. The cat part of me wasn't interested in Chap man one way or the other. But I forced myself to pay attention. It was important to watch him. That was why I was here. Is he prey? The cat brain seemed to be asking. Yes. Yes, I told the cat brain. Chapman is our prey. I followed Chapman as he headed down the hallway. Either he didn't notice me, or else he didn't care. He opened a door that let loose a flood of smells. Dampness. Mildew. Bugs. less-than Rachel? How are you doing in there8greater-than I jerked in surprise. A very un-catlike move ment. It was Tobias. He had to be fairly close for me to be able to hear his thought-speech. He must be on the roof or perched on a nearby tree branch. I strained my sensitive cat hearing. The birds under the eaves were silent. They were afraid of the big hawk. less-than I'm fineeagreater-than I said. less-than But you scared me half to deathffgreater-than less-than Sorry. I was just worried. greater-than less-than Well, don't worry. I'm following Chapman down to the basement. greater-than less-than Why8greater-than less-than Because that's where he's going. Duheagreater-than I said. Somehow, Tobias's human words were annoying me. He wanted me to pay attention to him and it was hard to do. The cat didn't care about his words. The cat just wanted to go down and look around the basement. Fortunately, that's what I wanted to do, too. I trotted down the rough wooden stairs after Chapman. Very weird, by the way. Going downstairs as a cat gave me a feeling of vertigo. I mean, I was going down head first. It's strange. less-than Look, Tobias, I appreciate you looking out for me. But I'm kind of busy right now. greater-than less-than like understand. I can't hear you very well, anyway. You're getting farther away. greater-than less-than Yeah, I'm going down. greater-than I waited. He said nothing. less-than Tobias8greater-than I called. But there was no an swer. We're still learning about thought-speech. We know there are limits on how far it can be "heard." But we aren't sure what the limits are. The basement had paneling all around. The ceiling was bare wood and full of spiders and other interesting things. No mice, though. Noth ing that could be considered actual prey. But many things that might be fun to chase. Chapman is the prey, I reminded myself.

  We are hunting Chapman. There was a sort of TV room with a pool table and some old chairs and a couch. But it was obvious that no one had used them for a long time. There were no human scents on them. There was dust everywhere and I could hear that there were spiders inside the TV set. The only part of the basement that appeared to have been used was a path right across the floor. I smelted the scents that Chapman had tracked there with his shoes. He walke d in a straight line across the base ment to a door. It was a simple white-painted door. Chapman pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the white door. He opened it and stepped through. Five feet beyond the white door was a second door. This one was made of gleaming steel. It looked like the door to a bank vault. Beside the steel door, there was a small, square white panel of light. Chapman pressed his hand against it. The steel door opened. It slid into the wall like the doors on Star Trek. I knew I had to go after him. But my human mind was afraid. And my cat mind didn't see any reason why I should walk into that dark place. To both of us, it felt like a trap. Like a place we couldn't get out of. But I had to. I had to go in there . That was the whole point of this spying trip. And Chapman was my prey. At the last second, just as the door swooshed shut, I bounded into the room. It was dark at first, not that it bothered me. Then Chapman turned on a low light. It was strange, because I could actually see better in the dark than I could with the low light. There was a sort of desk set into the wall. It was gray steel and very unusual-looking. There were more little light panels in various cheerful colors. And there was something that looked like a small but complicated spotlight hanging down from the ceiling. In front of the desk was a chair. A totally normal office-type chair. Chapman sat in it. He ran his hands over a blue panel. Then he looked at his watch. He sat patiently, waiting. For about a minute, nothing happened. I tried to look nonchalant, like I had just happened to wander in. But at the same time I was careful to stay behind Chapman so he wouldn't see me. I remembered Jake's warning. About how any one else would just assume I was a plain old cat. But Chapman knew about morphing. The Yeerks knew about the Andalite morphing technology. So if Chapman or any Controller ever saw an ani mal acting the wrong way, they could suspect the truth. Suddenly a brilliant light snapped on. My cat eyes adjusted instantly, but even so, the light was painfully bright. It came from the little spotlight thing. Chapman turned around in his chair to face the light. The light began to change. It took shape. It turned different colors. The four hooves appeared. The bluish fur. The many-fingered hands. The flat, intelligent face with no mouth and only slits for a nose. The penetrating, almond-shaped main eyes. Then the strange extra eyes, mounted on stalks that turned this way and that, looking around the room. Last came the tail, the wicked, curved, scorpionlike tail. An Andalite. Just like the Andalite prince who had given us our powers. But I knew this was no true Andalite. Dread washed over me. Dread too strong for even my cat brain to ignore. This was no true Andalite. This was the only Andalite body ever seized and taken over by the Yeerks. The only Andalite-Controller in all the galaxy. This was Visser Three. Leader of the Yeerk in vasion force. The evil creature who could morph into monsters acquired from all over the uni verse. This was Visser Three, the creature who had murdered the Andalite prince while we cowered in terror. This was Visser Three, who had nearly killed us all in the hell of the Yeerk pool. "Welcome, Visser," Chapman said in a very humble voice. was Iniss two two six of the Sulp Niaar pool submits to you. May the Kandrona shine and strengthen you." "And you, Iniss two two six," Visser Three said. I was shocked to hear the Visser's voice. In his Andalite body he had no mouth. Andalites communicate telepathically, just the way I do when I'm in a morph. The second shock came from what they had said to each other. "Iniss two two six." That had to be the name of the Yeerk slug who controlled Chapman. The cat part of my brain was busy with a different question. Was this apparition real? No. There was no scent. No scent at all. Only light and shadows. It was a hologram, I knew. But it was a very convincing hologram. Visser Three seemed al- most solid. He looked around as though he could see from his holographic eyes. I prayed he wouldn't look at me. "Report, Iniss ." "Yes, Visser." Part of me just wanted to run. Even a hologram of Visser Three makes your skin crawl. But now that he had figured out it wasn't real, the cat part o
f me was just bored. I realized why I could hear Visser Three -- the hologram projector must not be able to trans mit thought-speech. It translated it into regular speech. "Is there progress on locating the Andalite bandits?" "No, Visser. Nothing yet." I knew who he meant by "Andalite bandits." That was us, the Animorphs. "I want them found. I want them found NOW!" Chapman jumped back in surprise at the Visser's command. I could smell fear on him. In a calmer tone, Visser Three went on. "This cannot go on, Iniss two two six, it cannot go on. The Council of Thirteen will hear of it. They will wonder why I reported to them that all Andalite ships near this planet had been destroyed and all the Andalites killed. They will be suspicious. They will be angry. And when the Council of Thir teen is angry with me, I am angry with you." Chapman was literally quivering. I smelled human sweat. And I smelled something else. Something not totally human. It was very faint . . . was that the Yeerk itself I was smelling? Was I smelling the Yeerk slug in Chapman's head? It seemed impossible. But there was some strange smell. Something . . . something ... I concentrated all my cat mind on analyzing the smell. "What is that?" Chapman swiveled in his chair. I looked up and froze. Chapman was staring right at me. And worse, much worse, Visser Three's stalk eyes were focused on me, too. "It's called a cat," Chapman said nervously. "An Earth species used as a pet. The humans keep them close and find comfort in them." "Why is it in here?" "It belongs to the girl. My ... the host's daughter." "I see," Visser Three said. "Well, kill it. Kill it immediately."