Animorphin'
Disclaimer: If I owned the Animorphs, I'd be K.A. Applegate, and still be celebrating my winning the Newbery Medal. Plus panicking at the fact that I'd switched genders and had no idea as to my current location. But mostly the medal. It's awfully shiny.
Note: While I don't believe I've quoted The Andalite Chronicles verbatim, there are evident similarities. Rest assured that subsequent chapters will not be more of the same.
Prologue.
My name is Elfangor. I am an Andalite prince. And unless my last, desperate plan bears fruit, I will likely be dead within the hour.
My damaged fighter has crash-landed on the surface of the planet called Earth. I believe that the Dome ship I served upon has been destroyed, and I fear that my little brother Aximili has already perished.
We made a mistake. We did not expect the Yeerks to be here in such force. We underestimated the Yeerks. Not for the first time. We would have defeated their Pool ship and its fighters. But there was a Blade ship in orbit as well. The Blade ship of Visser Three. The Abomination.
My ship's sensors are heavily damaged, barely functional, but still capable of detecting multiple Yeerk Bug Fighters inbound. And I have no doubt that Visser 3 is aboard one of them. My death is something he desires for himself, something he wishes to savour. I am running out of time; I have several minutes at best.
I am weak from my injuries. Too weak to morph, and too weak to fight with anything resembling my full strength. Perhaps if I were an Estreen, or an Andalite infiltrator who morphed on a regular basis, then the situation would be different. I've read reports of our spies, those who frequently morph, being able to do so even when severely injured. Unfortunately, although I made use of the morphing power more often than most Andalite warriors, it was still not something I performed regularly enough to develop any real skill. Though my pride objects to the admission, prudence drives me to admit the truth: I cannot defeat the Visser in one-on-one combat as I am, and if he catches me, I will almost certainly die.
While a true warrior does not fear death, it is not merely my life that hangs in the balance. It is doubtful that any warrior aboard the GalaxyTree was able to transmit a warning to the homeworld before the Dome ship's destruction, and even if such a message was broadcast, the open Zero-space rift between the busy centers of the galaxy and Earth means that any possible Andalite reinforcements are months away. Months that Earth and the rest of the galaxy do not have. If the Yeerks pursue an infiltration strategy, and I have no doubt they will, then it is highly unlikely that the humans will be able to mount a capable defence by the time they discover the Yeerk's presence. And I know from personal experience that a human being would make for an excellent Yeerk host. Dexterity superior to a Hork-Bajir. Senses comparable to that of an Andalite, albeit without the ability to see in multiple directions at once. And a population numbering in the billions. A 10-digit number. I do not exaggerate when I state that the Yeerks gaining control of Earth would be the beginning of the end for all species who value freedom.
And at this moment, all that stands in the way of this dark future is a lone, mortally wounded Andalite warrior.
But hope still remains. I am not ready to record my hirac delest just yet. For this lone, mortally wounded Andalite warrior will, with a little luck, soon have in his possession the deadliest weapon in all of galactic history. The Time Matrix.
Disclaimer: If I owned the Animorphs, I'd be K.A. Applegate, and still be celebrating my winning the Newbery Medal. Plus panicking at the fact that I'd switched genders and had no idea as to my current location. But mostly the medal. It's awfully shiny.
Note: While I don't believe I've quoted The Andalite Chronicles verbatim, there are evident similarities. Rest assured that subsequent chapters will not be more of the same.
Prologue.
My name is Elfangor. I am an Andalite prince. And unless my last, desperate plan bears fruit, I will likely be dead within the hour.
My damaged fighter has crash-landed on the surface of the planet called Earth. I believe that the Dome ship I served upon has been destroyed, and I fear that my little brother Aximili has already perished.
We made a mistake. We did not expect the Yeerks to be here in such force. We underestimated the Yeerks. Not for the first time. We would have defeated their Pool ship and its fighters. But there was a Blade ship in orbit as well. The Blade ship of Visser Three. The Abomination.
My ship's sensors are heavily damaged, barely functional, but still capable of detecting multiple Yeerk Bug Fighters inbound. And I have no doubt that Visser 3 is aboard one of them. My death is something he desires for himself, something he wishes to savour. I am running out of time; I have several minutes at best.
I am weak from my injuries. Too weak to morph, and too weak to fight with anything resembling my full strength. Perhaps if I were an Estreen, or an Andalite infiltrator who morphed on a regular basis, then the situation would be different. I've read reports of our spies, those who frequently morph, being able to do so even when severely injured. Unfortunately, although I made use of the morphing power more often than most Andalite warriors, it was still not something I performed regularly enough to develop any real skill. Though my pride objects to the admission, prudence drives me to admit the truth: I cannot defeat the Visser in one-on-one combat as I am, and if he catches me, I will almost certainly die.
While a true warrior does not fear death, it is not merely my life that hangs in the balance. It is doubtful that any warrior aboard the GalaxyTree was able to transmit a warning to the homeworld before the Dome ship's destruction, and even if such a message was broadcast, the open Zero-space rift between the busy centers of the galaxy and Earth means that any possible Andalite reinforcements are months away. Months that Earth and the rest of the galaxy do not have. If the Yeerks pursue an infiltration strategy, and I have no doubt they will, then it is highly unlikely that the humans will be able to mount a capable defence by the time they discover the Yeerk's presence. And I know from personal experience that a human being would make for an excellent Yeerk host. Dexterity superior to a Hork-Bajir. Senses comparable to that of an Andalite, albeit without the ability to see in multiple directions at once. And a population numbering in the billions. A 10-digit number. I do not exaggerate when I state that the Yeerks gaining control of Earth would be the beginning of the end for all species who value freedom.
And at this moment, all that stands in the way of this dark future is a lone, mortally wounded Andalite warrior.
But hope still remains. I am not ready to record my hirac delest just yet. For this lone, mortally wounded Andalite warrior will, with a little luck, soon have in his possession the deadliest weapon in all of galactic history. The Time Matrix.