I wrote this in October 2013 for ThemeMorphs, as a sequel to my AU "Time and Again," and imagined it in my "One Big Galaxy" happy-AU. By the time I'd gotten around to uploading it, however, I'd already written "The Valley," which makes more sense as a prequel to this one. The irony is that I'd forgotten about this one when I wrote "The Valley," and since "The Valley" is arguably canon-compliant now (see notes there), this one might as well be too!

Travelling across the distant expanses of Z-Space can be, as the humans say, "boring."

It is "boring" because there is little stimulation available. Unlike travelling on a single planet, there is not much to see of the natural biodiversity or ancient landscapes around you. And unlike real-space travel, there is little in the way of celestial objects to observe. Not that I entirely mind—those usually require some instrumentation to navigate by, collect data, and make sure everything is going according to schedule. I was never very engaged in science class.

So, in times of peace, I would have thought it would only be fitting for the Ellimists and their cryptic rivals to allow back-and-forth travel from Earth to the Andalite homeworld, at some measure of speed. What would any of us have to lose, from shortening the distance? There is, mercifully, no war in progress.

And yet, we continue on, slowly.

Fortunately, the computer comes equipped with many electronic forms of entertainment. There are some simple human games, as well as archives of human entertainment. I have also uploaded several volumes of my favorite encyclopedias. My human friend Marco tells me that humans are working on an encyclopedia that can be accessed and modified by anyone on the Internet. Unfortunately, we need a real-space connection to have consistent access to that very Internet.

I try to manage, but sometimes I become listless.

As boring as this journey is for me, however, it is much more so for my shorm Tobias. His earthling body is not used to the curves of the Andalite transport ship, and he paces the corridors at all hours. Literally. Human and Andalite hours; most of the crew are used to keeping different sleep schedules, and while I accustomed myself to the Earth routine, it's hard to know when to sleep, now. Sometimes it's hard to tell whether his missteps are due to the artificial gravity or his awkwardness readjusting to his small human body.

"Did it really take this long to fly out here?"

‹During the war? Yes. But we kept busy with all sorts of routines.›

"Okay. We, uh, don't have to talk about that, if you don't want."

‹Would you like to play on the computer again? I am getting very good at the hungry snake game.›

"I've seen your high scores, Ax, I think I'll give it a pass."

‹Very well.› I greatly enjoy the test of agility demonstrated by feeding a digitized hungry snake. They are much like Taxxons, difficult to satiate.

"Look, Ax, I'm not that bored. I don't mind. Once we get to the homeworld, it's going to be overwhelming anyway."

‹We'll get you out of the way. Somehow.›

I don't want to remind him that he can't morph, but he seems to take it in stride. "I mean, not to brag, but I'm kind of a celebrity…"

‹Very much so. But, the population has its fill of the interviews from Earth, too, remember. I'll want to visit our family, and you come with me—they won't push me around.›

While all of the human Animorphs are famous on Earth, Tobias is particularly so. What is strange is that it was nothing he did during the war—his work with the free Hork-Bajir, his reconnaissance, or any of the battles he won—that has earned his acclaim, but rather, what he "accomplished" before acquiring the morphing power. Once my brother's hirac delest was decoded on the homeworld, the circumstances of Tobias' birth led to some embarrassing reevaluations of Earth's role in the galactic war. I wasn't there. But suffice it to say that, one thing led to another, many things led to many other things, and there was currently one very much not-in-use ship of war called the Elfangor, hanging about on the fringes of the galaxy.

The rush of new ships we'd needed to deal with transport had led to the usual tiresome debates about who and what to honor, and how explicitly; fortunately, despite my new rank, I was excluded from these debates as well. At any rate (well, at a very slow rate), we are progressing in the Santa Barbara, a ship which at least has the merits of some animated insignia, displaying a sheep morphing into a locust. Human culture. It is wonderfully multivariate.

"Our family?" Tobias repeats. "Thank you."