This takes place during the end of The Encounter when Jake, Cassie, Marco and Rachel are trapped in the supply ship, about to be taken prisoner, and they ask Tobias to destroy the ship so they won't be taken alive.
For Kat, my own personal motivation, and the one who got me into this fandom in the first place.
_________
Finality
As soon as Tobias left, silence settled over us, broken only by the lapping of the water against the hull, and the hum of engines somewhere in the distance.
"So we're gonna die, huh?"
Marco sounded tired. Defeated. Very, very angry. I turned to face him, treading water a foot or two away from me, sopping wet and looking like he'd give everything he had in the world to have something solid to hit. He was staring up, through the grate that we couldn't open, into the darkness of the ship that we had been arrogant enough to think we could wrest control of. Then he lowered his gaze to meet mine.
I licked my lips, tasting the mud and moss and fish and clean water against my tongue, and nodded once. I knew exactly what Marco was thinking, and now, waiting to die, was not the time to pretend I didn't. We were going to die, away from everyone we loved. And if Tobias was killed, or captured, then it would be worse – not only because he would be joining us, though that was too terrible for words, because then we'd die pointlessly.
Everything inside me raged at that idea. My stomach churned in fury, and my pulse sped up. But all that rage didn't change a thing. I was still just some little girl treading water in a rapidly filling cage, and praying that I'd at least get to die before anyone came and found us.
Because I'd rather be dead than go to Visser Three. I knew, just knew that he'd take everything I had, learn every secret, every piece of information about morphing and Andalites and the war that I possessed. And if he didn't kill me, he'd make me a Host, using my knowledge and my abilities to take my world prisoner.
I'd rather die. Morph something that can't swim and let myself sink. Tackle a Hork-Bajir and let him rip me to shreds. Or beg Tobias to crash the ship and kill is all in one spectacular explosion. And maybe, just maybe, someone will see it…
Marco was still watching me. He was nodding slowly. He agreed with me.
Funny, that. Deep down, Marco and I kind of agree about this whole morphing thing. It's just the technicalities that keep us at odds.
But here there's nothing but the immediate. All the technicalities have been left behind, and all that's left is deciding how it's going to end.
"I could say something sappy, about how at least we're going out together," Marco said, "but I think I'd rather be dead than ridiculous." He was scowling, but his voice was shaky.
A splash of water to my right; Jake kicked his way to Marco's side, and, wrapping his fingers through the grate to hold himself up, wrapped Marco in a tight embrace with his free arm. "It's okay," Jake said, his voice muffled because he's talking into Marco's hair, "I've always known you were a big softy anyway."
Marco laughed once, sharp and sad, and returned the hug, fisted hands pulling Jake against him. "God, Jake, my dad…"
"I know. I know. I'm sorry."
They just kind of hang there for a moment, just holding on to each other. Jake and Marco have been best friends since they were in diapers – Marco's parents were watching Tom when Jake was born, so Jake's literally known Marco all his life. And unlike most kids, who make and break best friends at least a half dozen times during elementary school, there's never been a time that they weren't best friends. Seeing them right now is a little bit heartbreaking.
Cassie's kind of sniffling off to the side, so I reached out and she grabbed my hand like she'd drown without me to hold her up. I tugged her over and wrap my arm around her shoulder, and for a long time the four of us tread water, holding each other and waiting for the end, in whatever form it would take.
end
For Kat, my own personal motivation, and the one who got me into this fandom in the first place.
_________
Finality
As soon as Tobias left, silence settled over us, broken only by the lapping of the water against the hull, and the hum of engines somewhere in the distance.
"So we're gonna die, huh?"
Marco sounded tired. Defeated. Very, very angry. I turned to face him, treading water a foot or two away from me, sopping wet and looking like he'd give everything he had in the world to have something solid to hit. He was staring up, through the grate that we couldn't open, into the darkness of the ship that we had been arrogant enough to think we could wrest control of. Then he lowered his gaze to meet mine.
I licked my lips, tasting the mud and moss and fish and clean water against my tongue, and nodded once. I knew exactly what Marco was thinking, and now, waiting to die, was not the time to pretend I didn't. We were going to die, away from everyone we loved. And if Tobias was killed, or captured, then it would be worse – not only because he would be joining us, though that was too terrible for words, because then we'd die pointlessly.
Everything inside me raged at that idea. My stomach churned in fury, and my pulse sped up. But all that rage didn't change a thing. I was still just some little girl treading water in a rapidly filling cage, and praying that I'd at least get to die before anyone came and found us.
Because I'd rather be dead than go to Visser Three. I knew, just knew that he'd take everything I had, learn every secret, every piece of information about morphing and Andalites and the war that I possessed. And if he didn't kill me, he'd make me a Host, using my knowledge and my abilities to take my world prisoner.
I'd rather die. Morph something that can't swim and let myself sink. Tackle a Hork-Bajir and let him rip me to shreds. Or beg Tobias to crash the ship and kill is all in one spectacular explosion. And maybe, just maybe, someone will see it…
Marco was still watching me. He was nodding slowly. He agreed with me.
Funny, that. Deep down, Marco and I kind of agree about this whole morphing thing. It's just the technicalities that keep us at odds.
But here there's nothing but the immediate. All the technicalities have been left behind, and all that's left is deciding how it's going to end.
"I could say something sappy, about how at least we're going out together," Marco said, "but I think I'd rather be dead than ridiculous." He was scowling, but his voice was shaky.
A splash of water to my right; Jake kicked his way to Marco's side, and, wrapping his fingers through the grate to hold himself up, wrapped Marco in a tight embrace with his free arm. "It's okay," Jake said, his voice muffled because he's talking into Marco's hair, "I've always known you were a big softy anyway."
Marco laughed once, sharp and sad, and returned the hug, fisted hands pulling Jake against him. "God, Jake, my dad…"
"I know. I know. I'm sorry."
They just kind of hang there for a moment, just holding on to each other. Jake and Marco have been best friends since they were in diapers – Marco's parents were watching Tom when Jake was born, so Jake's literally known Marco all his life. And unlike most kids, who make and break best friends at least a half dozen times during elementary school, there's never been a time that they weren't best friends. Seeing them right now is a little bit heartbreaking.
Cassie's kind of sniffling off to the side, so I reached out and she grabbed my hand like she'd drown without me to hold her up. I tugged her over and wrap my arm around her shoulder, and for a long time the four of us tread water, holding each other and waiting for the end, in whatever form it would take.
end