I don't own Animorphs.

I've rewritten this story to be a bit more complex. Also, the threat has changed slightly. The source of all their problems remains the same, but I never did get around to it in the previous version. Also, I made the mistake of splitting the focus away from Rachel. This really is a story about her, so I'm correcting that mistake now. And yes, the prologue has been lengthened and changed.

Animorphs

The Resurrection

Prologue: The Last Right

"Vitals are stabilizing."

"Brainwave activity is still minimal."

"Is blood getting to the brain?"

What were those voices? What the heck were they saying?

"Blood is being supplied with oxygen. Full circulation to the brain. Shall we try a neuro-charge?"

"Do it."

A jolt, and I was awake. Or close to it. My eyes snapped open but vision was blurred. I barely registered that and tried to cry out but a pathetic groan escaped instead. What the hell was going on? Nothing was clear and I couldn't think right. Things didn't make sense. Hadn't I died? Wait, I was supposed to be dead? That one little fact shook me enough to focus my thoughts, at least temporarily. Vision was still incredibly blurred but second by second it sharpened. Outlines were clearer and colors separated until I could see people standing over me. They looked like doctors, but in really weird clothing. I mean, their fashion sense was horrid. Why was I thinking about fashion at a time like this? I don't know, probably because I still wasn't focused.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms Rachel," a voice said. "I know you have many questions, and I'll try to answer at least one. First of all, you were officially killed about two hundred years ago. Your remains were cremated and that is more or less true. However, I can assure you that you are very much alive now."

He might have answered my question, but it really didn't help my situation. I was supposed to be dead. My remains were supposed to have been cremated. Then what the hell was I?

"I suggest you rest a bit and we'll explain more of this later."

Rest wasn't a big priority for me right now and the only thing that mattered was when would I get the chance to get some answers. However, that would have to wait a bit as I suddenly felt sleep overtaking me again. I closed my eyes and drifted away, with more questions than ever in my head.

The next time my eyes opened I was staring at a rather plain ceiling. It was a milky white, about all I was aware of for the first few seconds. The next thing I noticed was some kind of IV attached to my arm. Looking around, it was clear. This was a hospital of some sort. Without warning the door slid open, like those things in Star Trek, and a guy in uniform walked in.

"What's going on?" I demanded immediately, though it came out a bit disjointed.

He got a cup of water and held me up, helping me to drink it. It was rather annoying, having to rely on someone else for something so basic.

"That should help a bit," he said. "I'm Lieutenant Jonathon Walker. I'll be your guide and bodyguard while you're in this installation."

"I don't need a bodyguard," I blurted out, my voice still raspy.

"Of course. If some assassin got this close, we'd have already failed. I am also here to answer what questions you have. And, of course, your first one is what happened. I'll begin at the start.

"The war against the Yeerk Empire was won, thanks largely in part to the actions of you and the rest of the Animorphs. Your actions forced the hand of the Yeerks and it was their undoing. The Pool ship was captured, the Andalite fleet came and helped destroy the rest of the invasion force, and the remaining Yeerks agreed to morph permanently. You also succeeded in your mission, killing Tom. However, one of his lieutenants executed you."

I wasn't too surprised what he told me. I mean, we'd won the war and that was a good thing. Right? So why was I still troubled?

"Your body was jettisoned into space and recovered and cremated. However, genetic samples and a copy of your memories were taken before that happened."

"So what am I?" I demanded. "Some kind of clone?"

Jonathan nodded. "In a manner of speaking. Genetically, you're identical to the original Rachel Berenson. You also have all her memories thanks to the copy that was made."

I had made the comment in an offhand manner. It was at least something I suspected since I knew I was supposed to be dead. However, the way Jonathan confirmed it grated at me. No, it more than grated at me. It made me furious.

"Get out."

There was no movement on his part. Jonathan remained seated at my side and regarded me calmly. I was anything but.

"Get out!"

I threw the pillow at him but he remained unfazed. He simply picked it up and set it back on the bed. The sight of this nearly drove me over the edge. How dare he remain so composed when I'm about ready to break his neck? My anger was boiling over but I had nowhere to vent it. Instead, I did something the old me would have probably never done. I curled up and began to cry.

I wasn't sobbing. Thank god for that. Instead, it was just a steady stream of tears flowing down my cheeks. It was humiliating. The sense of helplessness was incredibly frustrating. One thing was for sure though, I wasn't Rachel Berenson. No, I was just a copy. I was a thing, not a person. And I hated those who made me.

I'm not sure what happened afterwards. All I know was that I was utterly exhausted and fell asleep again. When I woke up, Jonathan was gone, something I was thankful for. I just lay there, looking up at the ceiling. I was human. That much was clear. The rumbling in my stomach was proof enough. Yet I wasn't a person. Rachel died long ago and I'm just a mimicry. Everything I did would be because I had her personality, her memories, her instincts. What kind of life was that? Maybe I could just waste away here.

No. The moment that thought entered my mind, I banished it. It was true, my instincts were someone else's. But those instincts also told me to fight, to claim my own existence. I'd make my own mark, even if I was just a clone. A fake.

The door slid open and once more Jonathan entered. I was going to ignore him, but caught sight of the cart of food. Muttering to myself, I sat up.

"Feeling better?"

"No."

Jonathan shrugged and set the cart before me. "I suggest you eat. You'll need the energy later."

"And if I refuse?" I asked. It wasn't like I was going to, I just felt like annoying him.

"You'll probably be forcefed," Jonathan stated.

At hearing that, I glared at him. Hard. Who the hell did he think he was? For that matter, what did he think I was? Some pet or experiment? If they wanted to forcefeed me, I'd let them have hell while they tried. Luckily for them, I was starving anyways. I wolfed down the food, which turned out to be just like any hospital food. Not horrible, but nothing to write home about either. Jonathan just sat there watching me. When I was done, a nurse walked in and wheeled the cart out. And for the record, it was another guy.

"You ready to listen?" Jonathan asked.

"I guess," I muttered.

"You weren't brought back for any arbitrary reason," said Jonathan. "Humanity is facing something of a crisis, one which we are partially responsible for unleashing."

Before me shapes suddenly appeared. I nearly jumped but forced myself to stay calm. It wasn't too hard to recognize them. They were DNA. What the DNA was supposed to represent I of course had no idea. But Jonathan would obviously explain all that.

"The human gene pool is degrading. Various mutations and even points of stagnation have appeared. We're not completely sure what the long term effect is, but at the current rate, it won't matter. If the gene pool isn't stabilized, soon no child will be born healthy."

"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked.

The DNA disappeared and an image of me appeared. Me in the nude. I glared at Jonathan but he remained impassive as ever. Did nothing faze the guy?

"You came from a time period before the degradation began. As far as we can tell, your genetic structure is healthy and robust. Thus making you immune to the genetic degradation, or at the very least more resistant."

"So?" I asked. "Two hundred years have passed. Shouldn't your technology be insanely advanced?"

"One would think," said Jonathan. "And while that's true, it doesn't mean we know how to get around this particular problem. Which is where you come in."

I snorted. Not lady-like, I know. But since when did I give a damn?

"And why would I help you? It's not like you people need me. You can just whip up another clone. Hell, if you hadn't given me her memories, I might have even been more cooperative."

Jonathan regarded me levelly. "Yes and no. We could make another clone, but she'd be a blank slate. Creating you was something of a one shot deal."

"Uh, what?"

"Do you remember about the ixcila?"

Ixcila. The word sounded familiar, no matter how weird it sounded.

"It was a product of the Arn. What was used to copy your memories is something similar, but hardly as advanced or sophisticated. We implanted the memories in you and you will take them with you when you die."

"Uh, what?"

I was saying that a lot. But what else was I supposed to say? And yes, I did remember the ixcila now. Cassie used it to gain the memories of some dead Andalite girl into her head. But that was another adventure unto itself. And they had used something similar on me? But when? And if so, why do I remember my own death?

"You may feel that you're disposable, nothing more than a copy, but you are just as irreplaceable as the original."

Having him tell me that didn't help much, but it did help a little. Whether he was lying, on the other hand, was a thought that I tried to ignore. For now at least.

"So? You've said why you need me. Now what do you want me to do?"

"We know the source of the mutation," said Jonathan. "If we can get a sample of the original genetic structure, we may be able to correct the defect. However, attempts to retrieve it with our own soldiers have proven disastrous. The original source infects them and accelerates the genetic degradation. As someone who does not have the genetic flaws, you might stand a better chance."

I just stared at Jonathan. That was either the most bullshit I had ever heard in my life, or else they really thought I could help them.

"Why did you bring me back?" I asked. "Why not someone else?"

"A perfectly valid question. The answer? We don't have copies of the others' memories. Nor do we have the memories of anyone else from that time period. Yours was something of a unique situation."

"So are you going to tell me exactly how you got my memories?"

"Classified," said Jonathan. "And even I don't know exactly how it was done. After all, two hundred years have passed."

"Then why should I help you if you won't tell me the truth?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I haven't told any lies yet, as far as I know. And the clearest truth is that we need someone like you. It's your choice whether you want to help us or not."

Looking at him, I couldn't tell whether he was lying or not. "I'll sleep on it."

Lying down and turning my back to Jonathan, I ended the conversation. He could talk all he wanted, but for now I just needed time to think, time to consider. No matter what, I did not intend to rush into this. My old recklessness could get me into even more trouble in something like this. Fortunately, Jonathan stood and walked out of the room. Once he was gone, I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling once more. This was my cell, my prison. Like hell I was going to accept that.

"How is she taking it?"

Those were the words I woke up to.

"Not very well. It's expected though. Consider, what would you do if you found out you were nothing but a clone?"

"It was a necessity. We couldn't have done anything else."

"And yet, it makes one wonder if that girl's soul is still intact."

"A foolish question. All that is needed is her, not her soul."

My eyes remained closed as I waited for this odd conversation to end. They needed me? Well, they'd just have to get along without. Once silence fell I opened my eyes and saw the room was empty. Jonathan wasn't here and I was thankful for that. Trying to stand up was easier this time. I guess the rest did help. The IV was easy to remove and I didn't feel anything as I pulled out the needle. Medical technology had apparently advanced quite a bit while I was dead. That was an annoying thought. What I wouldn't give for one of Marco's bad jokes right about now. It would be so much more entertaining compared to this nightmare.

The hospital gown I had on wasn't exactly something that would blend in easily so I'd have to find something else. To my surprise a closet in the room held a few blouses, skirts, and pants. They were making this way too easy. Or were they? I'd have to see. After changing I peered out the door. No one was outside. Good. A thought occurred to me. They had restored my body, but had they restored my morphing ability? Probably not unless they were really stupid. I tried to focus and brought the image of my eagle. After a few seconds of nothing, I gave up. Too bad, it would have made sneaking out much easier.

The halls were fairly dim and deadly quiet. There were lots of doors but I didn't bother looking in any of them. Who knew what they really did here. What I really needed to find was a door leading outside. So far, I hadn't even seen a window yet.

"You know, this graveyard shift isn't even that bad."

Oh shit, I thought. Someone was coming. Taking a chance, I opened one of the doors and found myself looking at a broom closet. I ducked in and closed the door behind me.

"I mean, sure nothing happens but that's the good thing."

I didn't hear anyone responding and guessed she was probably on the radio.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I'll finish this round and report back later."

After the woman passed I peeked out after her. My eyes immediately fell on the gun at her side. Despite the fact that we Animorphs rarely used guns, it would still come in handy. Especially since I couldn't morph. I crept out of the closet and snuck up on the guard. She was either not paying attention or just too focused on something else. Either way, a quick blow on her head and she was out cold. Her gun was weird, like a Dracon beam but smoother. Maybe it was a shredder, one of those Andalite weapons. Either way, it still proved nothing. This could all be some charade by the Yeerks. Who knew, maybe they had won after all.

A single memory suddenly tugged at me. It was something the Ellimist said to me. He'd said I had made a difference. Everything else was a blur but that was clear. If that was true, than we should have won. I hope.

The rest of the complex seemed to be deserted as I ran into no more guards. That was good. Now if I could just find stairs and go downstairs. Unfortunately, my luck was running out. Siren went off all around and scared the heck out of me. Yeah, I get scared. It's just that this time I really wasn't expecting it.

"Halt!"

Looks like my luck was gone. Two guards were running at me from behind and two ahead. It was time to test this gun. Aiming wasn't hard and after a few shots along with bolts of energy flying out, I downed the two in front of me and took off. As I ran past, I heard moans. I guess the weapon had a stun mode. There was no time to check for a kill setting and I also still didn't know if I was dealing with friends or enemies. But either way, I wanted to find out myself.

Without warning something popped out from around a corner and tripped me. I landed flat on my face and rolled over, trying to get back up. A foot stepped on my hand as I tried to raise the gun and a lance struck me on the breastbone, keeping me down. It was Jonathan.

"Impressive. You got rather far considering you're still adjusting to your new body."

"Spare me the compliments," I spat. "So this was all a test?"

Walker nodded. This only infuriated me more. All it really meant was that they would never let me escape and every time I found a way out might just be another one of their damned tests.

"Screw you, Walker. And screw everyone else alive. You have no right to play these games with me, and I'll be damned if I let you."

Then Walker did something else I was totally unprepared for. I had loosened my grip on the gun, or whatever it was, and it suddenly floated into the air. Walker extended his hand and it levitated gently to it. I was silent for a few seconds and could only stare at what he had done. It took quite some effort to speak again.

"Neat trick," I sneered. "Why don't you play fair like the rest of us?"

"Since when was fairness ever a consideration in war?"

The two guards came up but Jonathan dismissed them. They went back to helping their buddies. I just kept glaring at Jonathan, waiting for him to get off. After this little stunt, they could forget about me ever helping them.

"We'll see," Jonathan suddenly said, as if reading my thoughts. Was he a telepath too? "The final choice is up to you, but I hope you realize that we are only doing what is needed. And we did this after a great deal of argument so if this fails, we have no contingency."

For some reason, the way he said that, it affected me. Only later would I learn why.

"Since you're already dressed, let's take a little trip."

Walker removed his foot and lance and offered a hand but I ignored it. Better to stand by myself than to admit needing his help. I followed him alone, with no other guards present. Still, I had no weapons and trying to attack him with bare hands didn't sound appealing. He wouldn't even need to touch me to take me down.

The little trip ended up with me in a car of some sorts, which looked very futuristic and sleek and actually kind of cool, for a drive that lasted maybe an hour. The scenery at the beginning was actually a large military base. Expected, but what was unexpected was the technology. It looked like some mixture of Andalite technology with human styling. Again, they were pretty cool but I was from a generation that was used to jet fighters and the occasional Bug fighter. This must have been an air or space force base, whichever of the two, since I didn't see any tanks. Or did they even use tanks nowadays? Probably. Human mentality couldn't have changed that fast in two hundred years.

The car came to a stop and the driver walked out to open my door. I didn't let him. It annoyed me that so many people were making a fuss over me and still trying to control me at the same time. But when I stepped out, I wished I hadn't. We were at a cemetery.

I swallowed hard, having a pretty good idea of why Walker had brought me here. Once inside we made our way to a series of graves, each with a cross showing the location. The first one I came up to was Cassie. I sank to my knees. This was where my friend was buried? Here? I fought the tears that came to me. What was the point in showing me this? Why? Of course. To try to force me to acknowledge what they said was the truth. But no, this Cassie was a friend of the real Rachel. While I still thought of her as a friend, she didn't even know me. Why should she, since I'm not Rachel?

"Her husband is buried to her right," Walker suddenly said.

I looked over and saw another grave. Ronnie Chambers? Who was that?

"He married Cassie a few years after the end of the war, after she had gotten out of college. The two were happy. Had a few kids, and they went on to enjoy what life had to offer."

"What about the others?"

"Look to your left."

Of course. How could I be so blind? Right next to Cassie was Jake, then Marco, I froze. Tobias. I spun around and glared at Jonathan.

"We retrieved their bodies from the wreckage," he explained. "What was left of them. This is their final resting place. As for your ashes, we also located those. They're technically your property."

I looked over. Next to Tobias was another grave, an empty one. Mine.

"Why is this here?"

"A monument of sorts. Though your body was cremated and Tobias took the ashes, people still wished for something to be left in your memory."

That's it. It was enough. I turned around and stormed away.

Jonathan suddenly grabbed hold of me. Instinctively, I took hold of his arm and kneed him in the chest. Even psychic boy here had to have felt that. He grunted and clutched his chest while other soldiers ran up. With a wave of his hand, he sent them back to whatever they were doing.

"I'm sorry for what we've done to you," he said when he'd recovered enough. "But we're doing it for a reason. We're trying to save the world, just as you and your friends did."

"Except we never did anything like this!"

Jonathan tilted his head somewhat before speaking. "David. The detonation of bombs in the Yeerk pool. The auxiliary Animorphs. The flushing of the Yeerk pool ship. While what I've read makes me believe David deserved what happened to him, you've done some rather questionable things during your battles. And are you going to make the same mistake as him?"

My face twisted into disgust. Not just because he mentioned David, but he had also reminded me of something else.

"I never did any of those things. Do you get me? I never did any of those! Rachel did! Not me!"

Instead of responding immediately, Jonathan turned around and looked at the graves once more. He stood there silently as if lost in thought. Finally, he came up with a response that floored me.

"The only Animorph that left behind direct descendants was Cassie. All the others died before they could marry."

I had nothing to say. I couldn't say anything. Still, a sinking feeling started creeping upon me.

"Jake's parents had a third child, a daughter that they named after you. Marco's parents refrained from having another child, while your sisters of course grew up and had families of their own. Loren also remarried and had a child."

I'm not Rachel, I thought.

"You're whoever you want to be," Jonathan suddenly said.

Glaring at him didn't do any good, but I still did it. He had no right to be listening on my thoughts, if that really was what he was doing. Still, my curiosity had been piqued.

"All of their descendants have the genetic condition."

So that was it. He wanted to use guilt to make me help them.

Jonathan shook his head. "I'm simply telling you because you have the right to know. After all, you may claim not to be Rachel, but you still have a connection to all these people."

Stop listening in on my thoughts.

This time Jonathan said nothing. Maybe he was actually doing what I asked for once. Still, what he said had affected me. I looked at the graves one by one, trying to sort out how I felt.

"You said there were descendants."

"Yes."

"Can I meet some of them?"

"You've already met one."

Don't ask me how I knew, but I knew Jonathan was referring to himself. Looking him over, I tried to guess who he was. A cousin of mine? No. Wait. Oh, hell no.

Jonathan nodded. "I am descended from Loren and thus through her related to Tobias."

It was too much. I was already having trouble breathing and apparently that was the last straw and I collapsed completely. A bit unlike me, but give me some credit. Here I was, in a totally new environment, brought back from the dead while everyone else was in their graves, and I find out this guy is related to Tobias? Either way it was too much even for me. I doubt the others would have handled it any better.

Apparently I was out for a few minutes but Walker had no trouble reviving me. I didn't talk to him for the drive back since everything was still sinking in. Still, when we got out of the car, I decided I needed to know more.

"There's something you aren't telling me," I said. "There's something more to this mutation."

Jonathan nodded. "The mutation is not limited to just us humans, but also affects Andalites, Hork-Bajir, Yeerks, Leerans, and several other races. We believe it originated as a weapon of genocide."

"A what? Are we at war?"

"Yes," Jonathan said darkly. "We still don't know what exactly we're at war with, but things haven't been turning out well. The mutation is capable of manifesting in extreme ways. Those that are overcome it grow violent and soon lose any self-control. They become something else entirely. We've lost entire colonies to it, and there's something else backing the mutations. It's subtle, but it's there. Thus we're doing the best we can, but we're still losing this war on both the medical and tactical front."

"I see," I said. "And that's why you need me, to balance out the medical front?"

Another nod. "However, I must make clear one thing. Because of the uniqueness of your situation, it was decided that you would be given a last right. That right is to choose whether you wish to accept our offer and join the fight, or to be put to sleep and die permanently. This time, your brain would also be destroyed to prevent any other resurrection."

Silence was the only answer I had as Jonathan waited. Either Jonathan really didn't know me or he already knew the answer. Me, run from a fight to protect humanity? To protect the descendants of my friends and family? There was no way I was going to let that happen, no way I'd take the easy way out. No way I would run. I might not be Rachel, but I at least had her fire. And I doubt the real Rachel would ever forgive me if I did run.

"You want me to fight for you? Fine. I will."

"Consider your answer carefully. This is your last right regarding your death."

"You already heard me. I'll do it."

My last right. And I had made a decision.

End of Prologue

There are some major changes, including the fact that this Rachel really is just a clone. And of course this Rachel has to deal with the fact that she is a clone. The Animorph series covered lots and lots of issues with ethics over the run. I will likely tread on many of them.

Z98