Disclaimer: I do not own the Animorphs (the original ones). Everything like that belongs to the wonderful K.A. Applegate. Steve, Jon, Will, Hannah and Maria belong to me to play around with!
A/N: This is a revamp of a fic with roughly the same idea that I wrote about 4 years ago, when I was still in Primary school. It had HORRIBLE spelling, grammar and a plot riddled with holes but I liked the idea (namely, a new generation of Animorphs) and so decided to do a new, improved version. The original is under my friend's account, also titled 'The New'. Actually, that friend gave me the title.
If you habitually fight shy of reading 'new generation' fics, no one is forcing you to read this. Only no flames just on the ground that the 'new generation' idea is normally cliched, overused and populated with Mary/Marty-Sues/Stues. Please review this story for its own merit and not lump it in together with all the others of the genre. Constructive criticism is gladly accepted!
Chapter 1
My name is Steve.
Just Steve. Hey, I was seriously considering making up some fancy pen-name when I started writing this, but in the end my imagination gave up. I guess you'll have to settle for my first name. I'm not even going to tell you if it's real or not. If you want a last name, you'll have to make it up yourself, OK? Heck, knock yourself out. If you think that names and stuff really matter.
They don't to me. Not anymore.
Same old, same old. You want to know what state I live in? Where I go to school? Sorry, but you'll have to do without. We have to be careful. One extra word, one slip of the tongue could mean death. For me. For my friends. For the whole human race.
Got you freaked yet?
If you've been somewhere besides under a rock for the past few years, this will all sound familiar to you. You'll know about the Animorphs, and the desperate fight they put up against the Yeerk invasion, which ended in victory. For them, and for the world, which had been losing a war it hadn't even noticed. They were interstellar heroes.
If this is all Greek to you, you're probably from off the planet or something. Here's the mega-condensed version. Yeerks are a species of parasitic slugs. They take over the brains of other creatures and they control them. Utterly. Absolutely. If you're a Controller, you can't even draw a breath on your own – the Yeerk in your head decides if you breathe or not. It can read your memories like a book, take your place completely, while you cower in a corner of your brain and beg for it to be over, for death.
The invasion was slow, insidious. It looked like the Earth was going to be lost without a fight. And that's when the Andalites intervened.
One of their number, Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, landed on Earth one night. And he gave the morphing power to five human kids.
The Animorphs.
Basically, because of these kids, buoyed up by Andalite shape-shifting technology, the Yeerks failed in their first bid for Earth. But it's not over. Oh, no. Not even close.
The Yeerks are back. They want Earth and this time they are all the more determined to get it. And there will be no help from the Animorphs. The headline was splashed across every newspaper's front page, coast-to-coast, when it happened.
They disappeared. Jake, Marco and Tobias of the Animorphs commandeered a stolen ship off into space, for who-knows-what reason. At least that's how the real newspapers put it. The tabloids weren't as kind, and for a while a lot of crazy rumors were flying around. At least, they were until everyone realized that those Animorphs weren't coming back.
There is just one Animorph left alive.
We can't expect very much help from that quarter.
I guess this whole thing started that day at school. I'd woken up late and missed the school bus, so my mom had had to rush me down in the car. She was angry, obviously, because that meant her chances of being late for work were very real. I know how to deal with her, so I held my tongue throughout the journey. The storm normally blows over fast, and until then it's no use trying anything. Anyway, I was more concerned with getting to class before the tardy bell than reconciliation.
I elbowed my way through the bustling throngs who were all on their way to class, and therefore going in the opposite direction to me. It was like swimming against a current, and I struggled to keep my backpack on my shoulders as I was buffeted to and fro. I was half-smashed against the lockers by the crush, and quickly began to dial in my combination, praying that the lock would open. Staying after for detention that day was definitely not high on my 'Things to Do' list.
Unfortunately, that lock is diabolical. I swear it reads minds. As I punched in number after number and rattled it until I was scared the whole bank of lockers would come crashing down and smash me flat, the crowd in the hall thinned until there were only a few stragglers milling around. Frantically, I dialed and re-dialed my combination, with exactly the same effect as the first time.
A hand reached round and took the lock out of my desperate fingers. Deftly, it twisted the dial. The lock popped open.
My best friend Jonathan handed me the open lock and began to pile the entire contents of my locker into my arms.
"C'mon, idiot. We have like ten seconds to get to class."
I staggered under the weight of about twenty large books. Jon topped off the pile with an algebra textbook and stood back to admire his handiwork, his lazy smile on his face.
Jon has been my best friend for years. He's not all that popular in school, and I think it's because no one really knows him like I do. He's shy most of the time, but get to know him and you'll see his real value as a person – under all the shyness and awkwardness there's something really worthwhile. He understands a lot, even without saying anything.
"Can this really be the football star Steve I see here? Staggering under a few paltry books?"
"Yeah, it is." I could feel my spine start to telescope. "And a real friend wouldn't just stand there watching me suffer. A real friend would give me a hand."
Just to make sure he got the point, I added, "And that means you."
Jon laughed, brushed a strand of blond hair out of his eyes and grabbed the topmost few books, almost making me overbalance as the weight lessened dramatically. "We'd better hurry."
We ran, but we didn't make it. The bell rang just as we burst through the door of our Social Studies classroom. All eyes were on us as we halted, gasping for breath, under the icy glare of our teacher, Mr. Nicholson. He's tall, intimidatingly so, balding slightly perhaps, but he still had the gift of turning students into jellies, just by speaking one or two blistering words. He governed with an iron fist and we could tell that the rest of the class was waiting with bated breath for the ax to fall.
They were disappointed. Instead of the chewing-out Jon and I braced ourselves for, Nicholson just glared at us for a bit and then told us that our detention was fixed for that afternoon.
Although I wasn't grateful for the detention, Social Studies wasn't a subject I'd have missed by choice, anyway. We'd just started a new chapter and although Nicholson wasn't all that interesting I was starting to get sucked in in spite of myself.
"I am sure you have all seen Andalite tourists at the mall – of course, they are hard to miss, even when in human morph -" The corner of his mouth curved up in a faintly derisive smirk. "But have you ever thought how we first came to make contact with other planets? I am sure you know of the recent war. You will understand more about it if you have read the chapter I assigned."
Right. I hadn't read the stupid chapter. But everyone knew about the war. Traces of it were still everywhere, even after ten-plus years. Patches of wasteland that no one wanted to build on, even now. Broken families.
Jon's is one of them. His parents were fighting in the war. On the other side. As Controllers. As enemies of Earth. They died when he was very young. Killed when the Animorph Rachel attacked their force.
I could see that Jon was having trouble listening to the lesson. His face was white, and he was doodling aimlessly on his notebook.
Suddenly I didn't think the chapter was all that cool anymore.
Nicholson went on. "If you have read the chapter, which I sincerely doubt –" He managed to put all sorts of nasty inflections into his italics. "– You will know who was leading the Yeerk forces." When we all looked blank he got impatient. "Come on! Tell me! Who was in charge of the Earth invasion?"
Now, if you were acquainted with this class, you'd know straight away that probably about half of us had even touched our books over the weekend. And out of the semi-conscientious fifty percent, almost no one would be prepared to answer and face Nicholson's wrath if they got it wrong.
I said almost. That's why one lone hand went up, somewhere in the middle of the room. Its owner waited to be called on and then answered confidently, "Visser One, sir."
Nicholson's eyebrows scrunched together. I'm not sure if he likes it when people get stuff right, or if he sees it as a kind of attack on his authority. Like he's the only one allowed to be smart in class.
Anyway, I could tell who it was from the voice. Hannah's been my neighbor for the longest time, since grade school (first grade, in fact), and we used to buddy it around a lot until she lost interest in outdoor stuff and decided that grades were important. I guess you could call her a straight-A student. Whatever, I liked her better when she was the little dirty kid who'd climb trees with me.
She has brown hair and I think her eyes were green – I haven't noticed them for a long time. Jon lost interest in his random doodling and looked up.
Right now, Nicholson couldn't very well do anything but grunt, "That's correct," and carry on with the lesson. As he turned back to the board, Hannah turned in her seat until she was facing Jon and me. The girl sitting beside her half-turned as well but for some reason quickly snapped back to face the front again.
I had to squint for a few moments before I realized what she was mouthing.
See you at lunch?
I frowned. We hadn't spoken since – well, last Christmas, when our families always exchange gifts. I gave her a tentative thumbs-up and returned to my book. Beside me, Jon bent his head as well. He was blushing slightly. I elbowed him and raised my eyebrows.
Seconds later, his sneaker came crashing down on my foot. I barely suppressed a yell of pain.
"Is anything the matter, Steve, Jonathan?"
Damn.
"N-no."
"Good, because I would hate to have to stretch your detention to tomorrow, as well."
Jon and I made sure to keeps our heads down and our mouths shut throughout the rest of the period.
When the lunch bell rang we made our way to the cafeteria and joined the queue for food. Now, I don't know what the food situation at your school is like, but believe me, our cafeteria food is definitely not five-star.
Jon made a face as the person serving slapped a spoonful of grayish mashed potato on his plate, and followed it up with a splash of watery stew. He complained in a low voice as we made our way to our customary table.
"Man, I know that they don't get paid enough for this job, but this food ranks as, like, toxic waste."
We sat down at our table. As I scanned the crowd for Hannah, my eye caught someone else's instead. Cursing myself, I quickly looked back down at my plate.
"Oh no, oh no…"
"What?" Jon looked around as I had done.
"It's Will. Please don't come over…" I breathed a fervent prayer to my mashed potato. Jon gave me a punch on the shoulder.
"Steve, chill! He has every right to sit where he wants. Besides, he's lonely. He doesn't have all that many friends."
"I wonder why?" I muttered. I didn't have time to say more than that, because Will shoved his way through the crowd and came to sit beside us.
Will is a paraplegic; at least I think that's what it's called. He uses a wheelchair to get around. He was a transfer student from some other state a few months ago, and the teachers foisted him off on me. I was supposed to show him round the school so that he could adjust. Unfortunately, he now hangs around with Jon and me, whenever he gets the chance.
Now, my tolerance levels are normally quite high – not phenomenally and impossibly high like Jon's, but still up there – and Will still grinds my last nerves. You might think under the façade he puts up there is a nice guy just waiting to show himself (at least that's what Jon says), but I'm not so sure. He's not mean or anything, he just gives off this vibe, you know? You can sense it, and I guess you could call it wariness, arrogance and determination to keep everyone else at arm's length. Being around him is not fun.
Will has black hair; he keeps it overlong and it mostly keeps his face in shadow. He's mostly angles – there's no tinge of softness in his face. Even when he smiles you don't feel as if he really means it. He smiled at Jon and me now.
"Hey, guys. How're you doing?" He'd used his wheelchair to shove his way through the crowd.
I muttered something, but Jon faced Will with a smile.
"Great, once Social Studies was over. Steve and I got busted by Nicholson; we were late this morning. So, detention!"
He made a face, and he and Will laughed together. Then Will sat up as if he'd just remembered something.
"Hey, I'm staying after today too!"
I shoved potato into my mouth to stop myself from saying something sharp, cutting or just plain unadvised. Thankfully, I was saved by Hannah turning up at our table. Tagging along behind her was the girl I'd half-noticed during Social Studies. I gave her a quick once-over. Dark hair, dark eyes, Hispanic. Currently looking a little nervous.
Once she'd got all of our attention, Hannah nudged her friend and spoke simultaneously. "This is Maria, guys."
Maria seemed to be teetering on the brink of saying something, but in the end the remark didn't pass her lips. She shook her head, glancing at Will and Jon. Hannah made an exasperated face.
"Sorry. Hey, Steve, when will you be going home later? Staying for anything?"
By now, I was seriously weirded-out. "Uh-huh… Detention."
Hannah looked exasperated again.
"Great. OK. We'll meet you to walk home, all right? We're neighbors anyway."
The two girls disappeared into the crowds. Jon and I looked at each other.
"What's with them?"
I've realised that after this chapter, the chapters get SHORTER and SHORTER... I'm trying to get them the length of a typical Animorphs book, i.e. 3-4 pages on Word. So this one was WAY too long.
Hope you liked the first chapter! XD Again, I don't mind constructive criticism on the flaws this story may posess - they're what helps an author improve. But no flames please.
Any suggestions for the direction which the story should take are greatly appreciated. Oh yeah, tell me which character is your favourite!
