Timor Mortis: The Sacrifice -- (Book One of The Future Trilogy)

by Meridian

This is .... I guess you could say it’s my epic ‘fic. Also known as the only one I’ve ever written that I like. ^_^;; Um .... long, crazy, complicated, insane, and the THIRD rewrite. It’s about what you would do to defeat an enemy, and how far yo

The Sacrifice

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Animorphs:
The Sacrifice (Book One of a Trilogy)
The Timor Mortis Series
By Meridian

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[A/N: This is the . . . . heck, it's the THIRD rewrite of this lovely series. I'm a prolific rewriter. What can I say? Er . . . . dedicated mainly to my wonderful best online friend named Dark_One "Darkie" Shadowphyre. Luv ya, sis. Also dedicated to my wonderful and perverted lil' bro Alexian, my loving sister Kylara, my other sister who can write like all heck – Rubix Cube, to Jason for not having read this yet ^_^;;, and to she who is the master of all writing, Guardian.]

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I that in heill was and gladness,
Am trublit now with great sickness,
And feblit with infirmitie: --
Timor mortis conturbat me.

Our pleasance hear is all vain glory,
This feuyl world is but transitory,
The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee: --
Timor mortis conturbat me.

- Lament
By Harper

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Prologue - Rachel

I ran through the weeds, barefoot. This can't be happening, I thought. There was a twisted, dull rage in my heart, mixed with the sour taste of despair in my mouth. This can't be happening. Behind me were six Hork-Bajir. Hork-Bajir are fast. Believe me. I know. I've been a Hork-Bajir. And now, nothing was going to save me.

Overhead, I could see a hawk hovering, issuing orders to the Taxxons. It sent another stab of pain through me. Oh, God . . . . My silent plea went unanswered. Not that I expected it to be. I've never really been a religious person. Never had any real reason to be one.

But now . . . . now . . . . Tobias a Controller. Controller . . . . controller . . . . controller – the word kept ringing through my head, ripping through my heart.

Cassie captured. Ax and his wife, Siraki caught in a crossfire on the other side of town.

A crossfire so that Jake and I could escape.

I could hear myself panting, as sharp rocks and thorns pricked my feet. No choice. No choice at all. Even after all these years, we still hadn't learned how to morph shoes. The irrelevant thoughts flowed through my mind, forcing my thoughts away from the danger I was in.

I was glad of that. The less I had to think – the less pain it meant for me. The less rage and despair I had to deal with. I tripped, and went sprawling as a large shadow loomed overhead.

Rachel! You're alive!

I rolled over, and saw Marco in gorilla morph. "Marco!"

Love to chat, he said, but we've got a flight to catch. There was no trace of humor whatsoever in his voice. Not that I expected there to be any, of course, but still . . . .

"Right," I gasped, trying to breathe.

Then I could hear a voice.

- is probable that she will fight to -

Tobias was still up there. No. Not Tobias anymore. Had to remember that. Visser Four. He was a – one of them. That was something I had to remember. One of them.

I jerked myself to my feet, hearing my own gasp of pain as if from a distance. Everything seemed so . . . . oddly distant from me. The pain, the fear, the rage. . . . nothing was real . . . . I wasn't real . . . . this was all just a dream . . . .

I ran through the ditch right ahead of me, jumping over jagged rocks carefully.

Marco was right ahead of me.

I heard the Dracon Beam go off right before I saw the flash. I saw it go off in front of me. And then I fell to the ground, as everything went black . . . .

Marco

I awoke in the Yeerk Pool to the sound of terrified screams.

The bitter scent of sludge wafted to my nostrils, and I jerked back against the wall suddenly, gasping for breath as I figured out what had just happened. "No . . . . " I whispered involuntarily. "No." I looked around wildly, trying to – oh, I don't know. Just trying to escape – to find some escape route where there was none . . . .

I caught a glimpse of gold at the corner of my eye, and turned to see Rachel, lying limp and unconscious against one wall of the Ramnonite Box. Jake was sitting against the other wall, slouching, gasping for air. The way he moved, I guessed he'd had some ribs broken or something.

I looked at him. Looked. Just looked. "Jake, man? What do we do now?" I heard my voice crack, and I forced my thoughts away from the terror that was pumping through my veins.

He looked up at me, and I flinched at the sight of his bruised face. Jake tried to smile, vaguely. "Which one would kick butt, Marco? Batman, or Spiderman?" Great. He was living through an episode of WB Kids 33? Lovely. Just wonderful.

Then he came toward us, making one wall opaque. Hello, Marco. I glared at Tobias. No, not Tobias. The Yeerk that was using his body without a trace of shame. That was something I'd have to remember. He was in hawk form, with Cassie beside him.

Cassie looked at us, and walked over toward Jake, grabbing his wrist. Jake looked up at her, face expressionless. She pulled him to his feet, and then Jake started fighting.

Cassie's a pretty small woman. Normally, Jake could have beaten her, in less than ten minutes.

Unfortunately, the Hork-Bajir holding Jake weren't small.

Eventually, they managed to get Jake to the infestation pier, fighting though he went. Rachel too, even though she was unconscious.

And then it was my turn.

Jake, Cassie, and Rachel dragged me down the pier, in spite of all my struggling.

Then they dipped my head into the muck of the Yeerk Pool, roiling with all of the tens of hundreds of slugs.

Chapter One - Leslie

My name is Leslie. Or Rysans. You can take your pick of the two.

But I'm not going to insult your intelligence by making up a last name to go with my first. Actually, now though, to tell the truth, I don't have a last name. Nobody here goes by their last name. Just first. Now, a lot of kids don't even go by their names that their parents gave them. They choose their own names. Like mine.

But we, in our little gang don't do that. We're civilized. More or less. In an odd sense. Not by the Anglish standards, of course, but by the laws of the streets, we are.

Let me explain.

Around, oh, I'd say around eight years ago, Earth was invaded. Of course, the Yeerks were around for more than fifty years before that, doing a silent invasion, but it was eight years ago that they decided to go all out.

I live in the future. In the year 2023. Approximately twenty-five or twenty-four years after the resistance against the Yeerks started.

So, you ask, what are the Yeerks.

That's where it gets complicated. Picture a slug. I've never really seen one – as in really seen one, but I've seen pictures in a book. Marguerite showed me a 'pic one time, when she was bored and Jeremy had managed to get her to quiet down for a while. But unlike those slugs, these slugs invade you, crawl through your ear canal, and take over you. Your mind. Body. Everything.

They can imitate you flawlessly. Perfectly. And that's how it stands right now. I know how it sounds. Loopy, right? But I swear, it's all true.

"Why not?" Marguerite said, and rolled over, a twisted smile on her lips. She's . . . . . well, I guess you could say Margot's my best friend. We've known each other forever. Grown up together. We knew each other before the Day. There's a detached part of me, though, that fears her. I've seen what she can do. And I'm not about to be on the receiving end of what Skarlaya's up to.

"Because!" Jeremy said, with a tone of annoyance. He's her cousin. The more responsible one. He thinks about the more mundane stuff. That's who he is, ya know? That's Jeremy. Korin. Whatever you want to call him. He takes after his father. And he is kinda cute. Cute in a really serious 'responsible' way. I kinda . . . . like him. In an odd sense.

"Because what, Kor?" Jesse asked. If Jeremy is cute in a serious way, then Jesse is the one who's cute in a totally, non-serious way. The two are total opposites. Jesse's more like his father. I never knew his mother, but supposedly, he takes after her a lot also. He's the one who jokes about things, will laugh instead of cry. But he's got a tough streak in him also.

"Because we have to get food supplies, not go running off to have fun, you," Jeremy said, adding an extra tone of annoyance to his voice. I suppose the fact that Jesse – or Prionon – had called him 'Kor' must have annoyed him, because he scowled. And then he scowled again, I guess this time for the fact that he himself had lapsed into the street dialects.

Lilith didn't say anything. That's the way she is, most of the time. I guess, growing up in Margot's shadow, that she just learned to keep her mouth shut a lot. She's a year younger than the rest of us, always quiet. You know the type, big eyed, with a look that just makes you stick up for her. Brillinth – Lilith, she's just scared of the whole world. The streets are a harsh place. We know that better than anyone else.

Me? I'm Leslie. Or Rysans, like I said earlier. I have brownish blond hair, and green eyes. Last lil' surviving member of our gang. Emphasis on the word surviving. Why? Because more than half of us have died over the long years. I don't even know how many people have come and go. Why?

Because after you see friend after friend die and be shot down by Dracon Beam, executed by Hork-Bajir, eaten alive by Taxxons, infested . . . . you stop caring. Not that it doesn't hurt a little, when you notice that someone's missing, or when someone never comes back from an expedition, or when you see someone die before your eyes. It just doesn't become all that important.

That sounds a lot more harsh than it really is. But it's true. And another thing – there's a price on our heads. Our parents being who they are, there's a ton of Yeerks who'd just love to see our heads on a stake. So we have a tendency not to trust new people. Not to mention the fact that most people either avoid us like the plague, or try to assassinate us.

Nice life, eh?

"Come, on, let's go!" Jeremy said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for the whole crazy expedition he wanted us to go on. We go on those once in a while, when we're low on supplies. Boring things. Very boring. Which was why Margot didn't want to go. She wanted her excitement. Which figures, considering her.

But we went. Went on the boring excursion. And that's how we ended up in a gang fight.

Chapter Two - Jeremy

"So, you're saying that you can beat Syrnia's gang, over on Main Street?" Marguerite said in a tone of fake innocence. I saw a flash of mockery sparkle in her eyes, sparkling, something that I'd seen all too few times since – since The Day. The Day. All capitalized. It is The Day, the day of all days when the world simply ended and crashed to a halt. The Day.

The Day that took away everything sweet and innocent about me. That Day that sent dark looks flashing into the eyes of the other gang member, changing our speech patterns into the rough lilts of street dialects instead of the proper Anglish.

Jesse put a little extra swagger into his step. "Of course. I'll simply charm them with the magic of my good looks." He was speaking in the correct Anglish, I was glad to hear.

Marguerite cocked an eyebrow. "Right. In other words, you'd scare them into running in the other direction?"

Jesse laughed. "Whatever you say, 'Laya."

"Yu're ina t'ritory, Vrelth." A harsh voice sounded from behind me, and I stiffened. I knew that voice. Jason. He led the Edaem gang. They were over on the west side of town. The Aluben dialect.

I have a slight . . . . dislike for the Aluben dialect. I prefer just the pure Anglish. I mean, sure, I can speak all the various thirty, forty dialects in our area. Doesn't mean I have to like it. It's like giving up part of yourself, becoming less human, you know?

From behind me, I heard a breath of air hiss out from between Marguerite's teeth. "Shadit. We jus' passin'ru, us," her voice snapped. She was smiling, a cold look on her face, eyes icy. The dialect she spoke now was Kyrina, the one she seems to prefer. Kyrina's more of a light language. It's rather beautiful, when you think about it, but . . . . it has a lot of lilts in it. Sounds like music.

Behind me, I could practically see Leslie wince. Marguerite is not . . . . a diplomatic person, shall we say?

"Y'didn't g'tour 'missi'n for you came thro." Jason kept his voice steady, but there was something strange about it. Alien, I should say. Unusual.

Jesse snorted. "Y'never g'tour 'miss'n, las week, 'for you came thro our't'ritory, you." I saw his face tighten, annoyance on his face. After Marguerite on the list of the top ten non-diplomats would be Jesse.

"I din't needit. W'ha tha'treaty, 'member?"

I saw Marguerite slide sideways, still keeping that chilling smile on her face. "That treaty said that those who signed it didn't have to ask permission before passing through others' territory, which appears to be your point of challenging, is it not?" She spoke in perfect Anglish, eyes cold.

Jason returned her smile. "Attack," he only said, turning to his gang.

There was one long poised moment where our gangs stared each other down. I felt the air suddenly chill, as the others moved into formation. Even with my eyes closed, I could have told you where everyone was. This scene had happened too many times – far too many times.

Leslie would be behind me to my left, regretful expression on her face, holding a knife away from her loosely and slightly jerkily. She still wasn't too proficient with that thing, after all, nor would Lilith be. Lilith would be at the rear, crouching slightly, holding her hands away from her as if terrified of herself.

Prionon – Jesse! I remind myself quickly – would be to my right, looking bored and cocky with a blade in one hand, bland expression on his face. That's Jess – he has to act tough all of the time. Just the way he is.

And Margot – my cousin? She was the easiest to predict, and the most unpredictable. She'd be the one on the far, far right, blade in her hand as if it were part of her. That focused look in her eyes, those intense eyes flashing with a fierce joy. All lithe grace and steel.

I don't know . . . . . Marguerite scares me a lot. I may be our leader, and the others may listen to me, but Marguerite's something different. Rub her the wrong way, annoy her, just the slightest, and you'll find yourself on the floor with a blade against your throat, or you won't be able to see straight for a week, something of that sort.

The sunlight flashed across tense faces, feeling out of place. The sunlight was for the daylight, those days of innocence and happiness. Not this place – this place where we were about to explode into barely suppressed fury. I shouldn't even have been here. I should have been . . . . oh, been someplace in the real world, the Anglish places. But you're not, I reminded myself. The Anglish are all dead now.

The appropriate thing to do now would be to walk away. But unfortunately, that wasn't an option. Not in this place, that is. Not in this time. I let another breath of air hiss out between my teeth.

Jason poised himself, close to the ground, eyes narrowed. "A'tak," was all he said. It was all he had to say, really, with everyone's nerves at that tight tension. All he had to say.

Before I could blink, Marguerite had lunged forward, blade out of her sleeve as if it were a part of her. I saw her lips quirk upwards, into a strange smile, before I heard the keening sound that had given her her name come from her throat.

An old memory stirred in my mind, of blue eyes staring into mine.

"My name is Jeremy, Marguerite. My name is Jeremy."

She gave me a twisted smile. "R'lly, Korin?" In sudden grace, she let her voice slide over to pure Anglish instead of Kyrina. "That was then, Korin. Jeremy died a long time ago. That was then. And this is now."

Jolting out of the memory, I barely managed to turn in time to see Jason pull a Dracon Beam out of his shirt and hold it up, finger twitching on the trigger . . . .

Chapter Three - Marguerite

I saw the Dracon Beam fire, come closer and closer to me. My heart let out a nervous bound, and I felt the responding surge of adrenaline slash through my veins. The Dracon Beam seemed to be moving slower and slower, as my jacked up nervous system sped up, in reaction to the tons of adrenaline pumping into my system.

In fact, it wasn't even moving anymore.

I waited for five full seconds while my heart accelerated even more.

"What's happening, it?" Brillinth asked. She tends to use the street dialects more, being younger than the rest of us. Before she died, Crisa explained that she hadn't gotten the same 'imprints of appropiate English at a younger age like the rest of you children'. Whatever that means.

"I dinna kno, 'mi, buda dinna l'it non, mi," (I don't know, but I don't like it, me.) I said, reverting to Tyresine. Tyresine's . . . . I far prefer Kyrina. My name comes from Kyrina. The people who can speak Kyrina can actually pronounce my name right. Skarlaya. Not Skaa'l^ae'yaa, not Shar'layan, not S'kl'ya, not Skrlaya. Skarlaya. Period. End of sentence. Finis.

I suppose you could say I'm the most comfortable with the street dialects than the other Vrelth. Just habit, y'know? I've been living on and off the streets a lot longer than they have. That's the difference between Korin and I. I see that things are different. They ain't like they used to be. This isn't like the Anglish.

Korin thinks everything's still like the Anglish. He thinks the Andalites will come someday. He hopes. And that's what makes him a fool. And what makes me far more experienced on the streets. It's also why he's the slrin'an (slr^in'|an) and I'm the lrinain'an (lr^in^aen' **an). [A/N: The marked thing is the alternate pronunciation. Refer to the appendix for how to pronounce it.] Means that he's the . . . . well, literally, our prince. Our leader.

And I'm the rebel leader. In other words, he gets the administrative duties, I get to fight. Nice and clear.

I saw Korin's eyes widen at Brillinth's comment. "Y'thank it b'th' Crayak, you?" Mentally, I snorted at this. Even all-mighty-'have-to-stay-Anglish' Korin could slip into the street dialects every once in a while.

Not precisely, Jeremy.

I whirled around, reflexes instantaneous, looking for who'd said that. Almost instinctively, my fingers went to the blade I always carried in my sleeve . . . .

"Ansysith?" Prionon asked. I saw a trace of fear tinge his voice. The unspoken question lay implicit in the heavy air. Crayak? I forced my mind to examine the logical possibilities. Logic. Ellimist, Crayak, Ansysith, or Drode. Either were equally possible.

Or not.

If it was Ansysith or Drode, we were in trouble, 'cause we'd end up in some kind of trouble. Regardless of whether they wanted us to do something or not, we were in deep kroina'ln. If it was Crayak, we were in even more trouble. And if it was the Ellimist . . . . ew. Bigbig trouble.

I am the Ellimist.

Um. Like I said – bigbig trouble. I gritted my teeth. Unlike the other Vrelth, I have no particular awe for the Ellimist or Crayak or Ansysith, or any of that screwed up bunch. I know them. They've yanked my strings like I'm some puppet of theirs. And I don't enjoy being jerked around.

"Whaddya wan'," I snapped, from between my clenched teeth. It wasn't a question. I wasn't sure what it was, really. But I was sure I could not – could not lose control. If I hadn't already, that was, with every muscle in my body taunt with adrenaline.

I brought you to this particular junction in the timeline to essay an experiment. Light coalesced, and reformed in the shape of a girl. Brown hair fell, tangled around gray eyes, and I hissed slightly. I knew that face. Oh, believe me, I knew that face far too well.

And I knew the others felt the same shock at this face that I did. "Janet," Rysans said, softly, casting a glance at my face. "Janet."

I felt my body tense even more. "D'n't w'get ani sayin'is?" (Don't we get any say in this?) I snapped again.

You have approximately five minutes to 'talk it over' as you put it.

I heard Prionon's voice crack, in a tone of sheer outrage. "F've minutes? F've friggin' minutes? F'VE MINUTES?! D'n't w'get a say i'this?!"

There was no response.

"Ok, let's settle down to business," Korin said.

"Right," I said in a tone of sarcasm, gliding over to Anglish. "What business do we have? We're about to be plunked in a place where we have no notion of what we're doing. We could mess something up. The Ellimist can screw himself. There is no way that I am – "

"If h'wants us tago, th're hasta be ar'son," Rysans said, interrupting me. Trust Rysans to try to calm me down. Not that it was working, though.

Brillinth shook her head, eyes regretful and misting. "Th'Ellimist playz gahms, it. The fates playz gahmes. They playz cruel gahmes. . . . ."

Time's up.

Suddenly, I wasn't standing in a street surrounded by the Edeam gang. I wasn't standing in a street stained a rusty red by bloodstains that could – and never would be – washed away. I was being whirled back . . . . back through time . . . back through roiling timelines . . . . through the fourth dimension itself . . . . . into another place . . . . another time . . . .

Chapter Four - Lilith

I appeared about one foot above the ground, and immediately fell like a rock.

Bump!

"Ow!" I yelped, as I hit the ground. For a few seconds, I just sat, bemused at the sudden change in environment. Something felt . . . . different.

Bump!

Bang!

Bang!

Jesse, Jeremy, and Leslie hit the ground, all looking about as confused as I was.

Marguerite appeared a second later, looking dazed. Furious. Annoyed. Beautiful, like always. And about six feet off the ground. Immediately, she managed to grab onto a tree branch, and dangle there, about five feet off the ground.

She took gymnastics before The Day. Even that many years ago, she still remembers all that crazy stuff, I guess. 'Cause she looked down, and immediately let go of the branches. Naturally, in accordance with the laws of gravity, she plummeted five feet down. Naturally, she fell into the thorn bushes directly underneath her.

And again completely naturally, I could hear her saying some very impolite things from inside the thorn bush. "- mist, whyda the hell did'e -"

Jeremy cut across Margot's voice with a cool, "I think the first thing we have to do is figure out where we are. And -"

Marguerite cut across again, muttering loudly to herself. "- ing aliens, dinna have 'nuff to do 'thout 'em, gotta plunk us in -"

"- try to assess our situation."

"Duh," Jesse said, eyes narrowed. "Why can't we just sit here and moan about what's happening?"

"Fine. I'll assess it for you," Marguerite said, having finally made her way out of the thorn bush. "We're trapped in the middle of Gooberville, and we have no idea what's going on."

"Gooberville?" I asked.

Marguerite gave an older-sister-sigh. "Look, we obviously ain't in Earth, us. You think Earth ever looked so nice?" She jerked her chin at the trees looming around us.

Wait a second! Trees?! There hadn't been no trees, not since Earth was invaded. And no blue sky, either. And the air . . . . it'd been totally different . . . .

Jeremy gave that familiar responsible sigh. "Look, guys. We need to first, try to figure out where we are. And second -"

Suddenly, Leslie cut across Jeremy. "Wrong, Jeremy. I don't think that's our first priority. We need to find food, things like that. Shelter. A place to hide."

Jeremy nodded. "Ok. First things first. We go on a reconnoitering mission."

I shook my head. "Something's been confusing me. Why would the Ellimist choose us? Us, out of all of the kids on Earth? Why?"

Leslie gave me a little smile, half tolerant and half the smile you give to little kids. "Maybe because of our parents. Who they were. What they did. Where we come from."

Jesse got that attitudal look, snorting. "Right. Or maybe he just don't have any good taste in kids."

"Right now, why the Ellimist chose us is irrelevant. We need to find the necessities," Jeremy snapped, obviously at the end of his patience.

"Fine!" Marguerite snapped back, sending a quick irritated glance at him.

And we started trekking through the woods.

Chapter Five - Jesse

I was doing my best to be as sarcastic as possible. See, my philosophy in life is, well, do what you gotta do. And complain all the way.

After eight years on the streets, you learn to laugh at all the small things. Cause if you ever give in, and feel sorry for yourself, well, you'll never stop. And that's no way to live. It's easier to laugh at life. Or at least complain about it.

Like I said, you can't let yourself think about all your problems, or you'll just give up on life. Or you'll become cold and hard. Like 'Laya is. Harsh as it is to say that, Skarlaya's a very harsh person, in general.

"Whad ef w'tried fittin' in?" Lilith said. She licked her lips nervously, and her glance flickered away from us to the trees, as if she were looking for an escape route of some sort. That surprised me. She's not really big on volunteering stuff. She keeps her mouth shut.

An' that's good enough for me, as long as she's not butting into my business all the time like Rysans or Korin would.

"Good idea!" Jeremy said, snapping his fingers. "We can fit into the surroundings, try to infiltrate the towns! See if the Controllers are here, see where we are -"

"Raht, Korin," Marguerite said in a sarcastic tone. "Aren'tcha forgettin' somethin'?" She nodded at our clothes, a quick curt motion.

And for the first time, I saw the others. When I say that, I mean, truly saw them. Saw them as a stranger would see them. Looked at them with totally fresh eyes.

Skarlaya was still beautiful as ever, but with streaks of dirt and mud across her golden hair. She had stains of some rusty brown stuff on her clothes that I could only hope wasn't blood. And she had a hard look in her eyes, that would never leave, the product of eight years on the streets.

Jeremy's hair was too long and curling behind his ears, and with a shirt that was in tatters. His dark brown eyes had a haunted expression, and he looked as tough as they come. If you'd seen him, you'd never have guessed how old he was. That look in his eyes . . . . it chilled something inside of me.

All of us . . . . our eyes had changed. They say eyes are the window to the soul. They're right. Looking into the eyes of the other Vrelth . . . . you can see how much we've changed since The Day . . . .

Leslie's brownish blond hair was tangled into a rough mat, practically falling into her emerald eyes that were a little too intense. Her eyes were tense, and her lips had set into a terse shape as if she were a matron.

Lilith, well . . . . Lilith had the same long blond hair as her sister, straggly, in a darker shade, and with her wistful eyes that seemed to be begging to us and petite frame, her clothes were several sizes larger than her. Lilith has absolutely no resemblance to Skarlaya at all, and I noticed it at that moment.

And I looked at myself, and I knew that we would never fit into any community.

Jeremy let out a sigh. "Fine. If we make the assumption that we are on Earth, and that Earth is not invaded by the Yeerks, we should be fine."

Leslie shook her head. "That's a big if, Jeremy. We know that the Yeerks came to Earth around the early 1970's to 1980's. And that the invasion sped up around the 1990's to the year 2010 or so. We don't know what year this is. For that matter, we don't even know if we're on Earth. I think we should just try to stay undercover until we find out what's happening."

He looked at each of us, examining us for each of our flaws and strengths. "Ok. Point taken, Rys – Leslie. We'll see what we can do. Check it out. Be careful. And look, I don't think I need to say this again, but if any of us get caught. . . ."

We all looked at each other and nodded. We had agreed, years ago. Years ago.

If any of us got caught by the Yeerks, we would kill each other before we became slaves.

Chapter Six - Leslie

We were wandering through the woods, tripping over rocks, and arguing with each other. Actually, only Marguerite and Jesse were arguing. The rest of us were stumbling along, tripping over rocks, brambles, roots, and letting out several choice comments each time we fell.

We're street kids, used to the open streets. The woods are not places for street kids. As Marguerite pointed out more than once.

"G'rt! Jus' gr't! This day be so unb'lievab'ly w'nd'rful! The Ellimist – scr'w him – d'cided he had to shove his freaking noze inta me life, an' –" That was about the eleventh time in fifteen minutes that she'd pointed it out. As we noticed, when Jesse rolled his eyes and shot back a quick retort.

"Use Anglish," Jeremy interjected, and she whipped him a look full of scorn and venom.

"Great. Just great. This day is so unbelievably wonderful." She spoke that in a monotone, then turned her gaze back to him. "Happy now, Korin?"

Jeremy glared at Marguerite, and tripped over a branch, mumbling something in an aside. "Do you think that it might be physically possible for you to shut up, at least once?"

She returned the glare. "Maybe I could shut up if you would keep your mouth shut also, and stop butting it into my life!"

"Shh!" Lilith hissed. We all quieted down instantly. Lilith doesn't say things in that tone for no reason at all. And now that I thought of it, we could hear voices. Of humans. This was not exactly reassuring. There was still that high possibility it could be a Controller.

"See, Ax, we – most humans at least – used to believe in extra-terrestrial life. I mean, now we know there is extra-terrestrial life, but most people don't believe in that stuff anymore." A girl.

I understand that fact. What I do not understand is why all the extraterrestrial life forms appear to be bipedal, with enlarged eyes, and speak in strange tones.

Oh. Evidently the human was talking to the Andalite. And the Andalite was responding in thoughtspeak. Simple. Just steer clear, and we'd be okay . . . .

I was starting to wish Jesse wasn't so close behind me. We were extremely cramped in the bushes, and the fact that he was breathing down my neck was making me jittery.

"We call it the miracle of bad movies, Ax. Bad actors, bad script, and bad makeup." This voice was a boy, and carried an edge to it. "ET, phone home."

But why do you not use holographic technology? This two-dimensional form of projection seems obviously primitive, even for humans.

Waitasecond! Thoughtspeak?! I leaned forward, trying to get a better glance at who was talking. And I fell over a tree branch, landing directly in front of Visser Eight.

"Visser Eight!" I yelped.

Fwapp!

A tail blade was arched, quivering at my jugular.

Yeerk!

I forced my breathing to slow down. Breath in. Breath out. Don't focus on the fact that there's a tailblade at your throat. Don't think about that. Focus on other stuff . . . . trees . . . .

I let my gaze travel up the tail to the Andalite. And to the children behind him. Four of them, staring at me, with expressions of suspicion.

I felt a chill go down my spine. Not for the first time that day, unfortunately.

Four children. And a hawk. And one Andalite.

"Y-y-you're the Animorphs!" I stammered out.

Chapter Seven - Jesse

We stared at Leslie. Mouths open. What the hell was Rysans up to, anyway?! Then Marguerite stood up, slowly. "She's not a Controller," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. She was speaking slowly in Anglish – a nice touch – I suppose to see if the humans were from our time or not.

The boy with dark hair and skin – Marco, for that was who he was – squinted at her. "How do you know what we are?"

Marguerite gave a slightly mocking smile. "I give you credit for not denying what you are."

Marco looked at her, and his eyes narrowed even more than they already had. "I didn't ask you about our credit with you, I asked you how you knew what we were. And while we're on the topic, how do you know about the Yeerks?"

Marguerite laughed, slightly, and looked toward us. "Guys? Want to answer that question?" I heard that lilt come out in her voice again. Jeremy stood up, cautiously, and motioned the rest of us to stand.

The African girl, Cassie, looked at us. "How many of you are there?"

Jeremy took control of the situation – again typical of him. "Just who you see here. We are five in number." I barely managed to suppress a snicker at his formality of phrasing.

"How do you know about the Yeerks?" Marco asked again. His voice started to get slightly annoyed, and I smirked. I suppose Margot shared my feelings, because she gave a triumphant smile. "Let our friend go, first."

Jake nodded at Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill. "Let her go, Ax." Aximili didn't seem happy, but he let her go anyway. Leslie scrambled to her feet, brushing soil off her clothes. Not that it helped at all, considering the shape our clothes were in.

Jeremy shook his head, as if he was trying to organize his thoughts. "I, I, I, uh, we, um -"

Marguerite gave that mocking smile again. "We're from the future."

I grinned. "Yes. How much more clear and concise. How easy to say. 'We're from the future.' Yes, we're just such wonderfully brilliant people, being able to say that. 'We're from the future'. It's so very easy to say –" I closed my mouth as Jeremy shot me one of his looks.

You know. That one. The 'shut-up-before-I-kill-you' one.

Tobias opened his wings, and then closed them in a sudden rustling of feathers. That doesn't explain how you know who we are.

I saw Marguerite's eyes flash. "Does that mean we have to explain everything to you?" Her voice came out in a controlled hiss, and I backed away slightly. She began to get that slight lilt in her voice. "I dinna see why we must explain everythin' ta you."

Jeremy licked his lips, and slid forward. "Margot. . . . " He said it in a slightly warning tone, and she grimaced, but slid back for a second. Before she could get annoyed again, Leslie opened her mouth and started babbling.

"Actually, yes it does. In our future, the Yeerks win. And you are currently Vissers Eight, Two, Nine, Twelve, Eighteen, and Fifteen. And we're sorta like related, so – I mean, like – uh . . . . So we know who the Animorphs were. Are." She licked her lips, nervously. "And see – "

"Enough." Jeremy's tone was tired. "Enough, Leslie."

Marco scanned our faces, caution on his expression. "How do we know we can trust you? You could just be a plant from the Controllers – or be a Controller yourself."

They are telling the truth.

Six voices spoke at the same time.

"Ellimist!"

Chapter Eight - Lilith

Yes, Ellimist, as you so succintly put it.

Marco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Does this visit have a point, or are you just trying to earn frequent flier miles?" His tone had a biting carry to it, and yet . . . . yet, I was able to catch the slightest tinge of . . . . fear? Nervousness?

You learn to pay attention to those kind of subtle cues after a while. And I'm no exception to that rule.

You, with these others are to attempt a mission regarding timelines.

Jake – strange to think of him as just 'Jake' instead of a Visser – looked worried. "So, basically, you want us to try to change a timeline?"

There was no reply.

Cassie glanced at each of us. "But how are we related?" There was a long pause after that, and Cassie blinked. "Well, she – " Cassie pointed at Leslie – "said we were related in some way."

Jesse choked suddenly, and Marguerite started snickering.

Marco stared at them. "What?" His expression was confused. "What's so funny?"

Marguerite continued snickering. "We're related in more ways than you would think, Marky."

The Animorphs all stared at each other.

Jesse gave a sardonic grin. "We're not really related by that much. Just by the fact that you're our parents. But don't worry, that's not much. Not very much at all, in fact."

Jake swiveled, jaw dropping. "Wha-a-a-a-a-t?!" Again, I barely managed to hold back a giggle at his expression.

"I said," Marguerite said, rolling her eyes, "you guys are, after all, our parents." As an afterthought she added a "Duh!"

Marco gave a sardonic look that seemed familiar, and yet unfamiliar at the same time – a look I'd seen countless times before. "How do you know?"

Marguerite rolled her eyes again. "I think we would know. I mean, duh?"

Rachel smiled. "I trust them. Or at least her. She thinks Marco's an idiot, so she can't be too bad."

Cassie was staring at us. "Guys. Look." She pointed at Marguerite and Rachel, hand trembling. The two were so alike, they might have been twins. The same long golden hair. Same blue eyes. Same cocky expression.

Tobias gave me a intense stare. You look like Loren. My mother. . . .

Marco shrugged. "Hey, I guess the old saying is true. Like mother, like daughter."

Chapter Nine – Jeremy

We were sitting in Rachel's living room, waiting for her to find some clothes for Marguerite and Lilith to wear. We'd already stopped by Marco's house for some stuff for us guys to wear, so, as Jesse put it, "we din't look like we just step outta dumpster".

Just then, the door opened, and the girls stepped out. My jaw dropped. I stared. Just stared. Stared at the girls. They looked so, well, different. And pretty.

Marguerite is my cousin, or cousin once removed, anyway, so I usually don't think about her that way, but she was pretty in street clothes. Always has been. Always will be. However, in the clothes she was in, she was stunning. To put it mildly.

"What?" Marguerite asked in a light mocking tone. "Not good enough for you?"

Jesse gave a sardonic grin. But I could tell he was startled also. "Nope. Nothing's good enough for us." He spoke with just the slightest of lilts in his intonation, and I sighed with relief.

Rachel raised her eyebrows at the bantering. "Ok, guys, ready for a few hours at the mall?"

Marco let out a moan. "The mall? With Xena?"

Marguerite laughed. "Come on. It can't be that bad."

"Right. Now we get Xena II coming along. You're right. It's not bad. It's a nightmare."

I stared at the others. All of a sudden, they had changed from tight and suspicious and tough street brats to normal kids. Just average, normal kids. I guess I changed too. But it's just a weird feeling. I mean, you've gotta realize that we'd never really relaxed since the Yeerks took over.

All my life, I'd wanted to be back with the Anglish. And now I was . . . . . and I had no clue how to act. Strange. Very strange to be able to walk across a street without darting across it in a quick, furtive motion.

Cassie turned to us, startling me out of my thoughts. "What happened?"

Leslie looked at her. "What?"

"When they took over, obviously," Marguerite said, directing her voice at Leslie. "Not much, really. Earth just got destroyed, most adults became Controllers, and the overlooked kids formed street gangs." All this she said in a bantering tone.

Marguerite's my cousin, but she still scares me sometimes. Maybe it's that attitude. That joy she gets in the fight. Or maybe it's that hard look that she gets in her eyes when she talks about the Yeerks, and laughs about roasting them.

Jake stared. "Street gangs?"

Jesse looked confused. "Obviously. What were the kids supposed to do?"

Leslie gave a gentle smile. "See, what happened was this. When the Yeerks took over, they did so because in a mission to the Yeerk Pool, Tobias was infested. They realized that the "Andalite Bandits" were in fact humans, and really attacked. Within twenty-four hours, all the Animorphs except for Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill and Siraki were infested."

Leslie smiled again, a little more bitterly. "Aximili and Siraki committed suicide rather than be infested. And then the full out battle began. A few days later, Marguerite was infested. The Yeerks wanted to use her as a bargaining chip. Rachel escaped from the Yeerks, but she traded her freedom for her daughter's."

"Most adults –"

Chapter Ten – Jesse

During those years, most of the adults became Controllers. Most children didn't have homes, so they lived on and off of the streets. It was preferable to becoming a Controller. Far, far preferable, I can tell you that.

Some children became Controllers, but adult Controllers were preferred to children. Adults can lift heavier things, and are more dexterous on the manual controls. So most children either became target practice for the Yeerks, or were given to the low ranking Yeerks.

Those children who survived quickly formed gangs, hunting the streets for food, and bickering amongst themselves to stay alive. We were one of those gangs.

After several years, the English language deteriorated among the gangs, becoming various street dialects.

Now a days, we aren't really into all that freedom bull. See, what matters is staying alive. For that next battle to come. Waiting, before that final blow from the Hork-Bajir comes, or Dracon Beam fire knocks our heads off. Waiting.

Even now, we're lucky.

Right after the invasion, there were fifteen of us kids in our gang. Now, there're only five.

The day after the Yeerks invaded, there were 10 million children running around. Now, there are only 2 million. We've been whittled down, little by little.

I can still remember, how Jack screamed, as he was slowly tortured to death by a group of human-Controllers. I can remember cowering in a corner, next to Angela, and Tessie, watching a Hork-Bajir playfully burn holes in Lilith's ragged street clothes, just for the fun of it.

I can remember, how that hard look came into Marguerite's eyes, as she came back to us, from being infested. I can remember, me, how Marguerite killed Yeerks, fighting against them for every day after that.

But we are what we are. What the Yeerks made us into.

Eight years.

Eight years on the streets, and you see things. But not what you want to see.

Eight years on the streets, and you learn things. But not what you want to learn.

Eight years . . . .

"Eight years?" Jake said.

"Eight years," Marguerite confirmed. "And ya know, we'd do anything to stop them. Anything." Her voice was oddly distant.

"Anything?" Cassie asked. "That's a high price to pay."

Marguerite's voice was cold, as her eyes narrowed. "Anything."

Lilith gave a gentle smile, diverting the topic to more gentle topics. "So, where are we staying, tonight?"

Jake looked startled. "Um, uh, Jeremy can sleep at my house, Jesse, Marco, and –"

Rachel broke in. "Cassie was going to sleep over at my house anyway, so all the girls can sleep over, tonight."

"That settles it, doesn't it?" Jeremy said, in a peculiar tone. He was still watching Marguerite.

Jeremy worries about all of us more than he lets on.

And with Margot, it's for a good reason.

Chapter Eleven - Marguerite

I was sitting in a desk, my blond hair trailing down my back. Mom had braided it for me, but I had yanked it out of the braids. I liked it loose. Loose looked better. And it was more comfortable.

Dad said that meant that I was like Mom. Then the two would just look at each other. It's annoying when parents do that, you know? Look at each other, I mean.

Leslie was in the desk next to me, and she was talking about some new game that her parents had gotten her. I wasn't really paying attention, though, just doodling meaningless words on a sheet of paper. I could hear Jeremy and Jesse arguing with each other in the corner about some sports stuff.

Mentally, I snickered. Boys. Idiots. And Jeremy and Jesse are no exception.

"Good morning, children. Today is March 11, 2015 in –"

I was quiet. I felt strange. Like I already knew what was going to happen. A thought teased at the edge of my mind . . . . thought? Memory? Dream?

My heart was so slow, each beat seeming to take a lifetime, and the air had a chill to it that froze me down to the bone.

"- this afternoon, there will be an exhibit in the library for the third and forth grades to visit. Also, our canned food drive is getting off to an auspicious start –"

Our teacher gave us a smile, and pulled out a gun. She looked remarkably casual, her brown curls bouncing around her plain face.

Why was everything so slow? It was like I knew what was about to happen, like I'd seen it in a dream, but couldn't quite remember the details of the dream.

"Children, come with me." One of the boys in the class, Russell decided to be stubborn. "Why?" The teacher looked mildly annoyed – an expression of something remarkably similar to contempt passing over her face – and then fired the gun at him. Russell dissolved in a few seconds, screaming.

I felt a jolt of terror wash through me.

"Now, children, you are coming with me either way. Alive, or dead." Her voice was level – but the tone was casual. Forcedly so. And all at once, everyone in the room panicked, and we were all running, trying to get home, away from the teacher.

But unfortunately, the halls were filled with other children who were all panicked. Running in panic – in fear – in agony – in terror – to god knows where . . . .

And I ran and ran, trying to get away.

My eyes flew open, and I stared at a ceiling. Sat up, suddenly, forcing myself to remember where I was. Earth. Year 2000. That was good. I think.

"You okay?" Rachel asked.

I let my breathing quiet for a second, forced my mind into a cold weapon of steel and then relaxed it. "Yeah, I'm fine, me."

She stared at me for a long second that seemed like eternity, and I realized that I had lapsed into the street slang of Kerman'ae. I licked my lips nervously. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

She nodded. "Cool. We've all had our share of that. It's part of being an Animorph."

I laughed, maybe a little nervously. "Right. Just part of being an Animorph."

"Mmumfff," Rysans muttered in her sleep, as she turned over. She was coiled up, nervously in a ball, hand clenched to her cheek as if she were much younger than she really was.

"You guys are pretty nervous when you're asleep," Rachel said. "I was watching you."

"Yep. That's in the job description, too," I muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Rachel said. "I mean, dreams aren't real. Not anymore."

I smiled back, a friendly open smile that I had practiced countless times. "Nope. Dreams aren't real."

Not dreams, anyway, I added, mentally. Just nightmares.

Chapter Twelve – Jeremy

I dug my spoon into my bowl of cereal, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for the sugary stuff. Jayus, how the hell d'these people survive on this stuff? The thought of even being able to dislike what I ate made me smile briefly.

Jake was sitting across from me. Tom was at my left. The air around both of them was practically vibrating with tension. It made me feel like I was trapped in some crossfire.

Jake was staring at his cereal. I was staring at my cereal. And Tom was staring at both of us. And then he cocked his head to one side. "Say, you two look kinda like each other."

My heart rate exploded, shattering my quiet. But to my surprise, I heard my voice say in a calm tone, "I'm from Rachel's side of the family. Rachel was having some slumber party with some other girl, so Jake said I could stay with him for the night."

"Well, then, how do you two know ea –" I waited for him to complete the phrase. To ask how we knew each other, for suspicion to enter his eyes, for him to ask who I was.

He didn't.

Jake stared at me. His eyes were wide, partially with a tight rage, partially with a quiet fear for what was happening. "Ellimist!" he hissed.

Suddenly, I was in the middle of a gigantic parking lot. "Ow!" I yelped, as I bruised a leg.

Marguerite appeared a second later, looking startled, then letting out a steady stream of nasty language. I couldn't hear most of it. Probably a good thing. Probably an extremely good thing, considering the way she sounded at the moment.

Marco flickered in, next to me, and he sighed in annoyance, an extremely irritated expression on his face. "What, he couldn't drop us in the Ritz?"

Leslie jolted in. "Ellimist!" Her voice quivered slightly, and I noticed that she was shaking. Shuddering. The Animorphs haven't really met the Ellimist. I mean, from what I know, they have met the Ellimist, but he hasn't played all his games with them. He hasn't screwed them around.

He hasn't shown off the full extents of his power to them, yet.

Jesse laughed. "Déjà vu." It startled me for a long second. I hadn't even noticed that Jess had appeared, and he didn't even seem to be nervous.

"What?" I asked. I was distracted. We all seemed to be here now, in a parking lot. Nice place to show up, all right. Really wonderful place. Odds were if the Ellimist had dropped us here, though, he had his reasons for it. And generally, his reasons are not in our best interest. In his best interest, yes. In ours, no.

Jess shook his head, laughing to himself quietly. "Duh. Haen't you noticed that we seem ta be plunked in all these different places at different times, and then, all, at the same time, saying, 'Ellimist'?"

He laughed again.

Jake cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention suddenly. "Guys, we all stay together, right? We go over to that building, check it out, see where we are. And no one – " here, he paused, glancing at Rachel, I mean no one, goes looking for a fight. Got that, Rachel?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yes, mom."

Marco shrugged. "Well, now that mon general there has given us our orders, let's move out."

Chapter Thirteen – Marguerite

I trotted forward, down the hall of the building. Light bounced off of the walls, making me flip my head sideways in a mild irritation. Light is annoying. Gets you nervous and tense with it, and you can't move without it. But then again, it wasn't the light that was grinding my nerves.

Something wasn't right. I could feel it. After a couple of years on the streets, you develop a sort of sixth sense that tells you when something's not right. And that sense was going crazy right then. That sort of . . . . tingle at the back of your neck, you know?

An announcement on the loudspeaker was beginning, and Brillinth jerked back, a look of panic on her face before she managed to relax. Her reflexes were shot. To tell the truth, though, she wasn't the only one. We were all nervous. "Good morning, children. Today is March 11, 2015 at . . . . "

The words seemed familiar. Too familiar, in fact. My mind flashed back to the dream I'd had.

Sitting in a desk. Watching Jeremy and Jesse shove each other. Hearing the loudspeaker say, "- this afternoon, there will be an exhibition in the –"

Korin opened his mouth. "Something's not right." He clenched his hands into fists, looking left right automatically, an instinct we'd developed. It was almost laughable in a way – Korin nervous. Now. In this year and time. But . . . . .but it wasn't funny in the least.

"S – something – something seems familiar . . . . almost like we've been here before, but – but –" Rysans paused, eyes wild and panicky. "It seems so familiar," was all she could force out. "Just so very familiar."

The loudspeaker cut her off again. "- will be an exhibition in the library for the –"

My heart pounded, in my chest, hard, three sharp sudden beats, and I jerked my head up to stare at Korin. His eyes met mine, glazed, fear sharp and evident there. The announcement was the same. The words. The date. The date . . . .

No. No. No. Can't be. No. My mind was screaming denial, but I knew. Believe this – I knew what was happening in my heart of hearts. And yet . . . . yet, I had to be sure. Had to know the truth. Had to know the bitter truth all over again.

Prionon's eyes were flashing, and then he narrowed them. "C'mon!" The same echo of panic that had been in all of our eyes came to the surface in his strained voice. "Come on!" Numbly, we followed him to a kindergarten room.

A little girl was sitting on the floor, her dirty-blond hair in pigtails. She giggled, suddenly, loud and clear, and I turned away. Everything was so slow. So very slow. There was a quiet . . . . . almost inaudible click in my mind. I knew now. I knew what was happening. What had already happened, so very many years ago. What was going to happen.

But I turned away – forced my exhausted body to turn and look into another classroom – to see four kids sitting together. Two boys were arguing with each other. Before my very eyes, one of them shoved the other one backwards, and they began tussling with each other mockingly. Both with dark hair, dark eyes.

There was a girl, brownish blond hair cut in bangs, talking to another girl. She was grinning, green eyes flashing quickly.

And almost involuntarily, against my will, my gaze turned to the last girl.

Small. Petite. Long blond hair. Blue eyes.

I had already known. And still – still that confirmation was the hardest blow I'd ever received in my life. No way to escape it all.

"No," I whispered. No. But I knew no words of mine could stop what was about to happen. There was no way . . . . no way I could avoid the next inevitable event . . . . no way I could avoid seeing my childhood die again. No way. No way to change it all. Please, no . . . . It was going to happen again. It was inevitable. It had – had to happen for the sake of the timeline.

The death of the girl I had been, as well as the downfall of the human race.

Chapter Fourteen – Leslie

I glanced wildly around the room. I felt my breath catch in my throat, and I swallowed a silent sob. My heart was pounding, wildly, crazily out of control. I saw Lilith sagging against one of the walls in the hallway, seemingly unreactive, but I saw tears slipping down her face silently.

Jeremy looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. Jesse's face was grim. And Margot, well, Margot was staring off into the blank air.

"So?" Jake said.

I realized that I was panting, jerking great gasps of air into my lungs. No. None of this is true. I'll wake up and this ain't gonna be true nonna it nothin' gonna be true . . . .

Jeremy turned on Jake, eyes wide. It was slightly eerie, seeing how alike they looked. There was . . . . a bit of a flicker in my mind, and I thought . . . just for a second . . . . of the last time I'd ever seen Jake before The Day. There was something so very . . . . .very similar about them.

"What?" His voice went up, then broke, cracking.

Jake stared at each of us, searching us with his eyes. "What's the deal with those kids? I mean, they're just regular kids, right? Just normal kids."

He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know.

Marguerite laughed, breaking the silence, and she slid forward, feet silent against the floor. "You don't get it, do you?" Her laughter was cold and icy, with no trace of humor in it, and she began to speak quietly in a street dialect that I couldn't place. "Y'just don't get it, you. Y'don't get nothin' at all. Those kids are us. Us."

The Animorphs' jaws all dropped. Expressions of shock flitted across their face suddenly, and the hall became filled with a deadly silence, broken only by Marguerite's odd laughter. "And today, they win. The Yeerks win. Do you understand, Prince Jake, you?"

I shuddered. Marguerite had apparently snapped. She was speaking so quickly I could barely understand her now . . . . her voice was blurring in my mind into old memories . . . .

It was Aximili who broke in, bringing a voice of rationale to our panic. "But if you are here, and your younger self is there, then that causes a conflict. Flict. Ict. Ct."

Jake turned to Aximili.

"What sort of conflict?"

"You may possibly change the timeline. Line. Then you would cease to exist."

Marguerite was still laughing, and I saw the chill of something deadly in those blue eyes that made me step back involuntarily. "Damn right, Andalite, you. We'd cease ta exist, us. Glad ya fig'red the whole thing out, you."

Chapter Fifteen – Jeremy

We all stared at each other for several long seconds that seemed like hours. I heard the sound of my ragged breathing, but other than that, the room was silent.

Tseeeeww!

Tseeeeww!

The sound of Dracon Beams shattered the silence, and I flinched suddenly. The sound of screaming was suddenly in the air, and I saw classroom doors burst open. Kids were running everywhere. Some of them had Dracon Beams, others didn't. Same with the teachers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of myself running – slipping on the damp floor, and my heart began to pound madly as adrenaline jolted through my blood. Think, Jeremy, think. Where can we go? Hasta be a place, Korin. Hasta be a place to hide.

"What do we do?" Marco yelled at me, and I jerked around, staring into his face. I swear, at that moment, I almost swung a fist at him. How was I supposed to know what to do? My heart jerked, several times, irregularly, and I forced my body to relax just enough so that I didn't look like I was about to kill someone.

Jake spun me around by my shoulder. "Look, Jeremy, you're the one that knows this territory. You want to have a mental breakdown – be scared or whatever – you can do it later. Right now, tell us where to go!"

I took a shuddering breath. "The car lot." There was a vague memory in my head of being in a car lot and feeling tears streak down my face. A car lot.

Leslie shook her head, eyes wild. "Na. We'ere the'r, 'fore, us. 'C'ld causa confl'ct in t^me, it."

"Ok. The . . . . the – the attic. We stayed there, before, us. Remember, you?" A Dracon Beam came within inches of hitting me, and I flinched, ducking away from the heat of it. "C'mon. W'better get movin', us!"

I took off, feet slipping against the ground as I ran in sheer panic. The other Animorphs were only a few centimeters behind me. I was terrified, confused, irritated, annoyed, and furious. To top that, I had to worry about causing a time conflict, as well as Marguerite's mental health.

I ran.

Chapter Sixteen – Lilith

We were getting the relion keras out of the building, into the parking lot, when a man pointed a Dracon Beam at us. "Stop!" he yelled, and we skidded to a quick stop, feet slipping against the wet cement. I didn't even want to know what it was wet with . . .

He gave a cold smile, something hollow behind his usual adult look. "Come with me."

"Why?" Marguerite asked, in her usual tough way, jerking her head sideways in a slightly nervous habit. "Why should w'listen ta you, you?"

The man let the Dracon Beam drift up toward me, and I shuddered slightly, stepping back. "Because if you don't, Little Missy here is having her head removed."

I don't know what happened, right then. I can't even begin to tell you the things that flew through my mind as I looked down the tip of the Dracon Beam. All I know is what I said: "No, Yeerk. Na. I'm not coming with you now, me."

He laughed, then fired the Dracon Beam at me.

Marguerite threw the blade that she always carried in her sleeve at the man in a quick and lithe motion.

I ducked.

The Dracon Beam went wild.

And everything happened in a split second.

There was a nice, long, pause.

Then Cassie walked over to the Controller, and checked his pulse. She turned away, almost immediately. "He's dead." Marguerite, too, walked over, and retrieved the blade from the man's chest. She wiped the crimson stains off onto the man's shirt.

She slipped it back into her sleeve. There was no expression on her face. And then she laughed. Laughed. "Rot in hell, voronli, like the theoirn y'are, you. Rot in hell, Yeerk, you."

The other Animorphs stared at her, openmouthed, and I saw . . . . something very close to shock cross their faces. Maybe it was fear – or maybe it was anger. I couldn't tell . . . .

Margot shook her head as if to clear it of her thoughts, and her laughter stopped abruptly. "Well? Coming or what, you?" She looked . . . . she looked exactly the same on the outside. The same golden hair, the same cool blue eyes, the same in everything.

But that other side of her was showing up now; the street side that didn't care whether she lived or died as long as her enemy was dead; the side that would do anything for revenge and staying alive.

Chapter Seventeen – Jesse

It took us hours to find the attic. Hours. There were vague memories in my mind of our being there years before . . . . and yet, I didn't remember it. I was exhausted. Tired of the whole sick mess of it all. Tired of being screwed with by Ellimists and timelines. Just tired. Does it show?

Leslie and Jeremy were giving each other goopy looks inside, which just makes me plain nauseated, so I opted to go outside, into the Goop-Free atmosphere. With Skarlaya, which isn't much better, but . . . . anyway. Marguerite I can handle. Leslie and Jeremy I can't.

She was singing. Marguerite, that is. She actually does have a rather good voice, although her taste in music runs to the depressing and death side of life. Not that there's much else to sing of . . . . "He takes the knights into the field. . . . and arms them under helm and shield . . . . victor he is at all melee . . . . Timor mortis conturbat me. . . . " It's about death . . . the song. The entire song is about how death comes to everyone, sooner or later.

She paused for a moment before starting the next verse, pointedly ignoring me. "He takes the stanchion in the store . . . . the captain closeted in the tour . . . . the lady in bower full of beauty . . . . Timor mortis conturbat me . . . " I saw her pause again, and lower her eyes to the ground, and then she looked me straight in the face. "What?"

I shrugged. "Just listening." There was almost a painful irony in this – she had only started singing that song after the invasion. It was the first thing she'd ever sang after she'd been infested. And she was singing again . . . . on the day of the invasion.

"Ah." She cut off the syllable suddenly, sat back, knees against her chest, and raised an eyebrow. She knew there was more.

"Listen, 'Laya, I just wanted to ask you a question. Today, when we were there, and you killed that Controller . .. . . how do you deal with times like those? How do you deal with it all?" I knew it was a stupid question to ask. Skarlaya and I are similar in a lot of different ways. And the fact that we're both very ruthless and calculating is one of them.

Nice people, aren't we?

She looked at me, again, and then glanced up at the stars. "I guess . . . . I guess I just do those things." She was speaking in the pure Anglish, without any of the lilts or accents of Kyrina, which startled me. "Y'know about World War II? It was an Anglish war. Japs and Nazis against the States and Brits?" Without waiting for my response, she plunged on. "The kamikaze and all?"

I shrugged again. "Yeah. Read about it in some old Anglish book. The whole war. Never really got it all, though, y'know? The war part, I can get. But I don't get it. Why you'd want to die for your country or whatever crap it was they died for."

Skarlaya tilted her head to one side, and I saw a strangely gentle smile cross her face. "Not for their country. For the idea they believed in."

"Huh?"

"What do you believe in?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Freedom?"

"Yeah, I guess. . . . " I couldn't figure out what she was driving at here. "Sure."

"So would y'be willing ta kill'y'self o'rit?" She slid fluidly into Kyrina, that smile going a bit chill. "Would you? Or could you?"

"Would you?" I countered.

"Why not? Like th'song says, it. 'His awful strike may no man flee'. Y'can't escape from death, you. We're all going to die sooner or later. That's something I accepted a long time ago. And freedom is the most precious thing of all. So I'd give anything for it. Even my life. Compared to that . . . . " I saw just the slightest flicker of sorrow cross her face. "Compared to that, killing someone else is nothing."

Skarlaya lowered her face, and then looked directly at me. "Think about it, Prionon. Think about it." Before I could blink, she was up on her feet, and in the attic.

I thought about it, y'know. But those questions are hard questions. I'm not a dreamer like Lilith, or an idealist like Leslie, or even a leader like Jeremy. I'm just . . . . me. And what I do best is being harsh, ruthless, and manipulating people. That's just me. Who I am. And I can't help it.

So I shoved the questions in the back of my head, and went inside, and laughed and joked and hung out with Jeremy. But her words still clung in my head. 'That's something I accepted a long time ago.' Offhand. A tossed out remark. But it was still in my head . . . .

Chapter Eighteen – Leslie

Cold. So very cold. That was the first and foremost thought on my mind the next morning as we were out in the middle of the street, foraging for food. Freezing. Winter season. Way too cold. Running helped, though, hence our quick trotting down the middle of the street, when suddenly, Marguerite stopped.

She flicked her head sideways, nodding at a convenience store. More specifically, at the plate glass window of the convenience store. "Well?"

Jake stared at her, his mouth open slightly. "Are you suggesting we –"

Before he could continue his sentence, Marguerite spun and simply did an impossibly high kick into the window, sending shards of glass everywhere. She cocked her head at me again. "Well?"

Jesse laughed. "Real subtle, Skarlaya. Real subtle, you." Actually, though, to be more specific, he didn't say that. He said it in Rilnan, which is one of the street dialects. So what really came out was more like, "Rlin sut'le, Margot. Rlin sut'le, ya."

The other Animorphs stared at him faces blank, so I relented, and translated for them before Jeremy could start yelling at Marguerite and Jesse to speak Anglish. While I was occupied doing that, Marguerite vaulted into the store through the window, avoiding plate glass like it was nothing, the rest of us a few steps behind her.

"Hey! Canned food!" Jeremy's voice rang clear and strong as he yelled for the rest of us to come over to his aisle, holding a makeshift knapsack.

"No duh, Korin!" Jesse snapped back, flipping a few cans of soup and a loaf of bread at Jeremy. "Geez, ain't like w'gotta panic 'ere! Nathin' ta be 'set 'bout."

"Jesse . . . . " Jeremy paused, and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just drop it."

Jesse's eyes flared. "What for? It's not like we got nothin' else ta do 'ere but snap at each other."

I shook my head, yawning slightly, and pivoted on my heel, heading backwards to the back of the store to look around. Fruit. I scooped up a few pieces of it, mentally noting that we'd have to get a large supply of it while we could. That was important - or else it might rot first, or someone else might get to it.

"Hello." A voice spoke behind me, and lost in my thoughts, I jerked, and whirled. And then I felt a little silly for reacting so sharply. Just a little girl, who was smiling at me sweetly. As I glanced at her, she flicked her head sideways, sending a lock of pale blond hair falling out of her blue eyes. "My name's Marguerite."

I laughed. "Hi, Marguerite." But something about that tickled at my mind. Too many Marguerites. Too many coincidences. Too many timelines. And too many interferences.

She tilted her head to one side, and gave me a sweet smile again, eyes reflecting. "Hello, Lilith. It's nice to see you again." Had I mentioned my name? I shook my head, clearing it. You're getting paranoid now, Brillinth. Relax a little.

There was the sound of hooves behind me, and I turned slightly to see Ax.

In seconds, I saw . . . Marguerite . . . . Marguerite?! . . . . . something clicked in my mind all of a sudden at that . . . . jerk a Dracon Beam out of her belt and aim it at Ax, hands quivering with the ease of someone who's known how to use a weapon easily and with great skill. "Andalite!" There was a sharp smile on her face that I didn't quite like. "Or should I say 'Animorph?' " How did I know she was . . . my older sister, so very many years ago? Can't tell you that. All I can say is that I just knew who it was.

And then I heard another voice, somehow exactly the same . . . . but calmer and older. "Don't even think about it, Yeerk. Drop it!"

Marguerite. A memory flickered in my head. Veritas. Veritas Five-Two-Four. Some pool or other. Yeerk. Sub-Visser. A long time ago . . . . so very long ago. Fresh air against my cheek, and a girl – me – screaming at the Yeerks. 'Let her go! Let her go! She's not involved in this!' And Hork-Bajir surrounding her . . . . oh, God. No.

This wasn't real. This was unreal. And yet . . . .it was real. I saw Marguerite . . . . or 'Maggie' as we'd called her teasingly back then . . . . no. Veritas. I saw Veritas drop the Dracon Beam, and spin, eyes wide as she saw my sister.

Or her own destiny.

Chapter Nineteen - Lilith

"Veritas," I heard Leslie whisper. "Veritas. You again."

I saw . . . . Veritas flip her head sideways, and giggle. "No duh, Leslie. Ansysith and Drode filled me in on what's happening. So . . . . " She was sweet, just the way you'd expect any little girl to be. And that was what was so very horrifying about it all. So very . . . . average. "Hi, sis," she said to me, and I flinched.

"You're not my sister."

"In a sense I am. I inhabit her body – and that's all that matters." Raising an eyebrow coolly, she turned to Jeremy. "Whatcha goin' to do, Jeremy?"

Marguerite wrapped her fingers so hard against the blade that had come into her hand so suddenly that her knuckles went white. "We can kill you." A feral smile was on her face, reminding me of a time long ago . . . with the Crayanrle . . . . and I shuddered for a second. "We can kill you."

Veritas laughed. "You can't do anything to me, 'cause it'll affect you. But I can do anything to you."

Skarlaya's eyes flared, and I saw her straighten, the tight lilt coming back into her voice as it always did. "Right. That's right, Marguerite. I can't do anythin' to you. But I could always hurt you a little, me. I don't particularly think that would . . . . affect the timeline, it?" A tone of light mockery was in her voice now, and that was precisely what made it so terrifying. Because know this – evil is not in a look of hatred. It's in a child's giggle and taunts.

I saw the Animorphs recoil at the sound of my sister's voice, dripping as it was with hatred and fury. I saw shock on Kor – Jeremy's face as she said that, saw the guilt that was reflected in my face in Leslie, and saw Jesse's careful facial expression of nothing at all.

Softly, Marguerite added something in a quick flow of Kyrina, her dialect of preference. "Ginna ketch thy ya, Y'rk. Ya be ded he're ya, ken?" Going to catch you dead now, Yeerk. You'll be dead here, yes, understand? Jeremy's eyes flickered toward me, and he caught my gaze, sending me a silent message through his eyes, forcing me to nod.

I bit my lip. We had to try, at least. He was asking me to handle my sister? Please. No one can handle her. She's out of control . . . I begged him silently. But the truth was that if anyone had any pull over Marguerite, it was me. "Marguerite?" I licked my lips quickly, feeling myself go cold with sweat. "Skarlaya?"

"Brillinth. Shut. Up."

A chill went down my spine. Sure, we've all turned a bit tough on the streets. Sure, we've all had to kill once or twice to stay alive. But Marguerite is the one who's the toughest of us all. The one who plays the hardest games by the rules of the streets. And in this mood . . . . in this mood, she could kill her younger self. The Yeerk infested her.

Which would affect the timeline in multiple ways. The least of which would be her own death.

Veritas gave a slender smile. "Well, come on then. Kill me." She stood at an arrogant pose, cocky expression on her face and a smirk on her face. "Kill me, if you're so eager to do all that."

Marguerite gave the exact same smile back. "Of course." She moved sideways in a move that was so smooth that I barely caught it with the corner of my eye, as a blade slid out of her sleeve, face completely expressionless as she opened it quickly and the metal whined.

Jeremy looked at me, and shook his head. And this time the message was completely clear. Leave her alone. She's out of control.

And I felt that chill go down my spine again.

Out of control.

Chapter Twenty – Jeremy

We all stared at each other. I found myself wondering if Marguerite was totally insane, when Jesse tried to take control. I saw the slightest flicker of tension . . . . or maybe even fear . . . . cross his face. "Margot. Listen to me. I know you're not –"

Marguerite's voice lashed out at him. "My name is Skarlaya. And Jess, shut up!"

"Skarlaya. Marguerite. Whatever. Just . . . .listen to me, okay?" He was using a cautious, yet firm tone, the same way you'd talk to a rabid dog. "Look, just go and cool off for a while. You're too close to this situation to be objective. Jeremy and I can handle it. Go. Just go."

She spun around, wheeling on him. Her eyes were blazing with an icy rage, and for a few seconds, I felt a stab of fear for Jesse. But miraculously, she did it. She backed down. Took one step back from her younger self. The Controller-her.

Jesse turned to the little girl – the Controller. "Go, now, Yeerk. I spared your miserable life this time. I won't next time."

The little girl laughed. "Right, Jess. I'm sure you will." She walked off, swaggering in the characteristic Yeerk way that I'd seen every day of my life for the last eight years.

Marguerite turned on Jesse. "You just let a Yeerk go free." Her tone was dull and flat. "You just let one of them go free. You just let her go. Just like that. Let her . . . go . . . ."

I gave her a pitying look. "Margot . . . ." Please don't do this, I added, mentally. Please don't do this to us.

She started laughing. "You just let a Yeerk go free. Free! Free to go!"

Leslie tried to take over, eyes gentle. "Marguerite, if that Yeerk had been killed, you'd be dead. You would never have survived to grow up, and you wouldn't exist anymore."

Skarlaya kept laughing, the sound harsh and twisted. "Do you think that matters to me? Do you think that I care whether I die or not? It would have been dead. And it's host. Death is better than being a slave. Do you think my life matters at all?" Her voice was almost a litany now. "Do you think my life matters at all? Do you think it matters at all?" She jerked away from us, and then said something rapidly in Kyrina. "T'nt be na lrta si srla, it. Dinna do naught, you. Lt'a Yeerk l've 've, it. Kirl Yeerks, them. Na mat'r w'ht 'tis 'akes, it."

Then she turned on her heel, and began stalking off in the opposite direction as Veritas had gone, footsteps completely silent. I saw Leslie and Lilith reaching out to stop her, but I shook my head. "No. Just . . . . let her go."

"What did she say?" Cassie sounded confused, but mainly just shocked at what had just happened. "What did she say?"

I turned toward Cassie. I smiled, and I knew it came out a little sadly. "She said . . . . she said, 'There isn't a reason to live if you're a Controller. You didn't do anything. You left a Yeerk alive. Kill all of the Yeerks. No matter what it takes.' "

A tingle went down my spine as I finished the translation. Did my cousin really mean that? That she would kill all the Yeerks, no matter what it took? Even . . . . at the cost of her life? I shoved the thought out of my mind, shuddering.

That was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. And it was to have some of the highest consequences I'd ever had to face . . . .

Chapter Twenty-One – Marguerite

I ran along the street, feeling each graceful stride go up through my legs. Running. Running down the streets of Death, with nowhere to run . . . a poem flowed through my head, and I shook my head. No. It doesn't matter, 'Laya. I felt like I was going to explode. There was something . . . . dark inside of me that had to get out. Now. Or I'd explode.

Each of these mood swings was leaving me more and more confused. Paradoxes. Confusion. Lies. All lies. Everything that was going on here was a part of a mind game. And I hate being jerked around with. That's just me. And I've had this happen to me more than enough times for me to know.

I licked my lips, nervously, jerking my head left and right as I froze in midair, checking the street for coming Controllers. There was a sudden flash of a translucent white light. And then I was hovering in mid-air.

There was a lovely blue-green light surrounding me. I looked down at myself. Checked where I was again. Nothing but blue-green light around me, and I sighed, forcing myself to relax. Normal clothes. What I considered normal, that is. Rags to the Anglish, I suppose.

But opposite me, mirrored, I could see another girl. Me. That was me, in those strange clothes. Jeans. A red top that fit neatly, and a jacket tied around her waist. Combed golden hair that crackled around a neat face and framed intense blue eyes.

I stepped back, and froze as I saw the girl opposite me – my mirror image – do the exact same thing. Cocked my head to the left. She did the same thing. And then I reached out a hand toward her, watched her do the same until they touched. And then I jerked as my hand started to curve back toward me.

"What the hell is going on here?" I said, my voice reflecting more wonder than fury, as I looked around the endless frame of luminous light. "What's gwin' on here?"

A simple paradox, Marguerite, Skarlaya.

I said something extremely impolite. Then: "Why me? Why the hell did you have to choose me? And while we're on the topic, it, why am I staring at a copy of me, me?!" I knew I was overreacting. And I didn't even care that I was losing control and slipping.

You have more power than you think, Marguerite.

I took a deep breath, trying to control myself and relax. "So, what the hell do you want, it?"

There was some laughter. Have you noticed your propensity toward that term? And the question is not what I want. It's what you want.

"That's bull, it. You just want to play games with me, you. Like all the rest of your kind, them. That's what you want, you, isn't it, it." I narrowed my eyes and leaned back, ignoring the repeated action that came out of my copy. "That's all you've ever wanted from me."

I saw the blur of light that was the Ellimist blur even more, and then solidify in front of me as my mirror image. And when he spoke, it was my voice that I heard. "No, Marguerite. That is not my intention at all. That was never my intention."

I laughed harshly. "Then what is your intention, it?" I felt my pulse begin to race as a jolt of adrenane slashed through my bloodstream.

"Crayak and I have certain agreements. You are one of the conditions of that agreement."

I laughed again. "So I'm just a pawn, right? That's all I am to you, me?" There was a definite irony in all this. And something incredibly screwed . . . .

The Ellimist – my other self – smiled. A very cool and calculating smile that I didn't like at all. "Pawn or not, you play an important role in this game." She . . . . it . . . . . do Ellimists have genders? Who knows? The Ellimist gave the slightest of nods, and the blue green light disappeared completely, as I was jolted suddenly into another dimension.

You can't even begin to imagine what that place was. Nor can you imagine the things I saw, or the things I heard. What happened there was beyond description. Sound was ripples of light. Feeling was the gentlest and most pure of tones. Nothing there can be described, really.

And as I watched, I began to see patterns in the oblivion of it all. Timelines. Timelines splitting and curling away from each other in something so very . . . . so very competely undescribable. Something that no words of mine can explain clearly.

And I still saw. Saw a blond girl spin with a baseball bat as she stood next to an Andalite, saw a boy's face erupt into a hawk's beak, saw . . . . saw so very many things happen and spin. Some of these things were from people I knew. People that I'd known and loved. And others . . . . others were people I didn't know directly, but had yet influenced my past and future.

And I knew the cold and hard truth. I realized what was going to happen. What had already happened. What must happen inevitably, as I read it in the patterns of the slender timelines that broke and continued to sever themselves from each other.

If Veritas . . . . if I died, Rachel would never exchange her freedom for her daughter. She would free herself and the other Animorphs from the Yeerks. And they would lose the war for Earth.

Answering my unspoken question, the Ellimist spoke. YES, MARGUERITE, SKARLAYA, WHATEVER YOU CALL YOURSELF. IT WOULD CHANGE THINGS. IT WOULD CHANGE THINGS MORE THAN YOU CAN EVEN REALIZE.

"I . . . . " I heard my voice come out slightly strangled. "It wouldn't change things. The Yeerks would still be . . . be on Earth, even if I was never infested by Veritas."

Unmercifully, the inevitable response came. THEY WOULD NOT. A LIFE FOR A LIFE, MARGUERITE. THE TERMS OF CRAYAK'S DEAL WITH ME WERE THAT IF THIS CURRENT TIMELINE SHOULD BE ALTERED IN ANY WAY CAUSING THE YEERKS TO LOSE THE BATTLE FOR EARTH, THAT I SHOULD BE ALLOWED THE OPPORTUNITY TO CAUSE IT THAT ESLAF SEVEN-THREE-FIVE NEVER EXISTED.

My mind spun. Eslaf. The Yeerk that had infested Tobias. The one that had blown the Animorphs' cover. And if he never existed . . . I blew out a breath of air. If he never existed, The Day would never occur. I knew now. I knew what was going to happen. What had already happened. And what could possibly never happen.

I felt the weight of what I had to do weighing me down. I knew what the price of it would be. And I knew, all too well, what would happen if I didn't do it . . . .

Chapter Twenty-Two – Marguerite

The Ellimist had told the truth. I did play an important role in this game, if it could even be called that. I was the catalyst, the one who could bring it all about. And it was so very . . . . so very simple and elegant and effective that the choice should have been so easy to make. Except it wasn't.

Oh, Gods . . . . if I killed that younger me, if I killed myself, I would never have grown older. I would never grow older to . . . . to be where I was right now. I would be dead. But so would Veritas and Eslaf. And if I didn't . . . . if I didn't, Eslaf would remain alive, and the Yeerks would win.

I felt a bitter smile cross my face at the thought. It was just so - so elegant and beautiful in its simplicity. "So . . . . . so you want me to do this thing so that the Yeerks will lose?!" I shrieked at the Ellimist. I had to stay angry. With anger, I didn't have to think about what he had just asked me to do. Anger was safe.

Anger was so much easier than pain . . . . so much easier not to have to think about all of the unshed tears that flew around my mind. I'm not good at manipulating people. I prefer open battle. Anger is safer than manipulation.

And I heard his calm reply.

My race does not interfere in the matters of your kind. All I can say is this:

Once before, before you were born, I asked your grandfather to make a choice much like this. Do you know what his name was?

"Elfangor," I said, as a dangerous calm came over me. "Elfangor-Sirinal-Shamtul."

Yes. I asked him to make a choice. He made the correct choice. What I am asking you, today, is can you make the right choice?

Can you make the correct choice, Marguerite, even at the price of everything you love?

Chapter Twenty-Three – Marguerite

Earlier, I had said that all Yeerks should be dead. I'd said that. Seen the shock on Korin's face as I'd said that, seen the guilt from Brillinth and Rysans, seen Prionon's careful show of no emotion. Said it in icy rage. And now I was picking that statement apart.

Did I really mean that? That I would do anything to make them all dead? Did I mean that mean that meanthatmeanthatmeanthat?

I felt like I was going to explode. "R'ln s'tle, g'wn ln'g l'k thee, ya," I muttered. I knew I was starting to fall apart but I didn't care at all because nothing really mattered anymore but the open empty darkness around me and in my soul and who the hell cared what happened to me because . . . .

Literally translated, it means, "Really subtle, going along like this, you." If you translate it fully into English, it's more like, "Very subtle thing to do." My mind seized on each of the different translations for it, and ran them through my head, forcing myself to think of all the permutations. Nothing was real anymore to me.

Ya know, in all the novels, people don't worry about stuff like this. They just make a snap decision. Like, oh, I'll die, but I don't care, so I'll sacrifice my life for my country. And then they become heroes. Easy, right? The decision's so very easy

Only I'm not a hero.

I'm a murderer and an assassin. And I know that better than anyone. Know your enemy and know yourself, after all. And my greatest enemy is myself. I'm smart, you see. I can see the looks the others give each other when they step back just enough from me to put that slight distance. I know, you see, the way the others feel about me. I know that they're afraid of me, and who I am.

And I know that they know that the only goal in my life is to wipe out every single Yeerk. I suppose that was what I was thinking of then. It would sound a lot more heroic and nice if I were saying that I was sacrificing my life for the gang. Except I'm not a hero. And I was killing myself so that I could wipe out my enemy.

Decision. Made.

After all, like the song goes, "His awful strike may no man flee." I bit my lip until it drew blood. Die, Laya. Diediedie. Just die. Well, I'm in for that strike now. I looked upwards, and gave a grim smile. "I'm in."

What is possible, will now be impossible. What was impossible, will now be possible. I said those words once to Elfangor. And to your father, Tobias, I told him that he was a beginning. A point on which an entire time line may turn.

You are much the same, Marguerite, daughter of Tobias and Rachel, Animorph. You too, are a point on which an entire time line may turn.

I suppose I should have felt calm or whatever. I was about to die. And it was really . . . . all for nothing. No. It was for a goal. And that was all that mattered. If I had been a hero, I could have made a long speech about the sacrifices I was making. But I'm not a hero. I'm me. Marguerite. Skarlaya. I'm human.

And all the heroes have to start somewhere.

Chapter Twenty-Four – Jesse

I ran along the street, dodging a swipe from a Hork-Bajir, and jerking sideways, feet slipping on . . . . various things on the ground. Things you really don't want to know about. Things including – but not limited to – blood, gore, innards, and various . . . . wads of . . . goo from Taxxons.

We'd thought we could win this fight. Thought we could win and wipe out the Yeerks, and – and win. Kill some Yeerks. That we were maybe invincible.

We were fools.

I'd seen everything: The way Jake could move, lithe and deadly in his tiger grace, the way Rachel could swipe at a Hork-Bajir, and knock it down, slashing through alien hide like it was butter. The way Marco could punch a Taxxon, make it explode in an eruption of goo, Cassie ripping the throat out of a Hork-Bajir, white fangs flashing in the night air, and Tobias, raking people's faces, leaving long streaks of red behind.

There was no way at all to win. None whatsoever. And that thought made me practically fall over. I tried to sit down, and my knees collapsed, leaving me in a limp heap on the ground.

Suddenly, I saw Marguerite, running out of an alley. She was holding a Dracon Beam. God knows where she'd gotten it from. She sprinted over toward me, and kneeled down, and an ironic part of my mind noted that she'd never looked more lovely. Her hair was flashing around her face in an aureole of pure gold, and her eyes seemed to have a strange light in them.

"Prionon. I'm sorry. So . . . . so sorry." She rocked back on her heels, and gave me a strange glance that made a tingle go down my spine. "So . . . sorry."

I stared at her, biting my lip. "About what? Earlier? Don't worry about it –"

She cut me off suddenly. "No. It's not, it. Look, remember what I told you earlier, me, about the kamikaze, it? About all of that stuff?"

I nodded, slowly. Somehow, this seemed to matter a lot to her. The way she was moving, the way she had that look in her eyes . . . . "Yeah. What does that have to do with now?"

Marguerite gave me a smile that seemed to be happy, terrified, sad, peaceful, and yet mildly arrogant, all at the same time. "I can't explain it to you now. But I'm sorry, for –" She drew in a quick breath of air. "There isn't enough time. I'm sorry." Suddenly, she stiffened, as she caught a glimpse of her younger self.

She was immediately on her feet and moving like a streak of lightning. "Hello, Marguerite." I saw another smile on her lips now, a twisted smile that I hadn't seen for years. The smile . . . the look that she only wore when she wanted to –

The Controller-Marguerite whirled, to face her, short blond hair flying. "Hello, Marguerite." She tensed for a second, and then relaxed when she saw who it was. There was a long pause, and Marguerite swung her Dracon Beam to point at her younger self, hands shaking just slightly. What was that smile? It was the look of . . .

The Controller gave an unpleasant smile. "If you fire that, you'll die also."

Marguerite laughed. "Yes. I know. Believe me, I know. But I also know that if I kill you, my friends will live. And that's all that matters." She turned toward me for a brief second, and I saw something like a gentle calm in her eyes. And suddenly, I recognized that smile. It was the look she only wore when she wanted . . . . oh, God . . . . only wanted to die. . . .

It was strangely eerie. I hadn't seen that kind of calm in her eyes for years. It'd been so very . . . .very long . . . . since I'd seen her relaxed and calm. So very long. Jeremy, Leslie, and Lilith pressed in behind me, terror on their faces.

All of the Animorphs seemed to be there. I saw them vaguely, not really paying attention to the shock on their faces as they demorphed from their animal forms. Not paying attention to what they were saying. It was meaningless. All of it was meaningless.

Marguerite . . . . no. This was Skarlaya as much as it was Marguerite. Skarlaya raised her head higher for a long second, pausing. And then she pulled the trigger.

The Controller-Marguerite fell to the ground, and dissolved in a matter of seconds, jerking in convulsions. I didn't care. It was irrelevant that Veritas Five-Two-Four was dead now – dying in agony. All that mattered to me was Skarlaya . . . .and she was beginning to dissolve now.

As her molecules swirled and disappeared in something that was almost obscenely beautiful, she turned to us, face grave. "Guys. I had to. What – what was possible, is now impossible. What was impossible . . . . " She dissipated completely, and we were left staring at the space where she had stood, just seconds ago.

I knew what she had said was important. But I couldn't understand. Couldn't.

Then everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-Five – Lilith

I opened my eyes, and blinked a few times. I was in a room. Rolling over, I shoved myself up, and jerked my head sideways quickly. Reflex. Left right. Took in my surroundings. Ground – pink and frilled. Left side – poster of a music band. Right side – window. In front of me – doorframe.

Long pause as my brain tried to figure out where I was automatically, and then froze. Ground . . . . pink and frilled?! I took another long look. Satin . . . bedspread. Mom got it for you the other day, 'member? my brain told me automatically.

"Mom . . . .?" I heard my voice come out as a squeak, and I winced. "K'rin? 'Laya? 'Rion'n?" I knew I was starting to freeze up, and I winced again. Jerking to my feet, I reflexively slid out of a nightgown, dumped it on the bed, and yanked on a shirt and jeans. Ran down the stairs.

What's going on here going on goingongoingon –

"Hey, Lilith." A woman's voice spoke from behind me, and I ignored it as was my habit.

"Hi, mom," I said, rolling my eyes unconsciously. Mom? Did I have a mother? Suddenly, I swiveled, almost losing my balance to face the woman I called 'mom', and I jerked back, barely avoiding staggering. "Rachel?!"

She gave me a blank stare. "Yes, Lilith?"

"W-where's Skarl-Marguerite? What happened? Where is she? Is she dead? Why're you an adult? I thought . . . . where's Marg –" I knew I was on the verge of whimpering . . . . . and I didn't care. All I wanted was my sister with me. Period.

I saw shock flash across Rachel's face. "You remember all that?" Just then, the phone rang, and she picked up the extension automatically, that strange expression of alarm on her face. "Hello? Rachel here. Hey, Marco." There was a bit of a pause, and I saw more alarm flare across her face. "What?! Jesse remembers?" She froze for a long second, and then nodded. "Lilith remembers also. I'll be there in a few min. Call a meet." Rachel slammed the receiver down, and looked at me for a few seconds with narrowed eyes. "Get in the car. We're heading to Marco's house."

I didn't ask any questions. I had none to ask. Nor did I have any thoughts left in my empty and vacant mind to say aloud in the air to make them real. Nothing to say, really. And so I just sat there all alone, in an exhausted vortex of nothingness.

When we got to Marco's house, Marco waved us in, silently. Quietly, I let my eyes drift to the others. Jeremy was sitting straight up in a chair, back straight, and eyes exhausted. Leslie slumped, eyes red, next to him, face streaked with fresh tears. But it was Jesse my eyes went to mostly.

He was curled up on the window seat. I'd seen him like that hundreds, if not thousands of times. But when his eyes met mine, I had to repress a shudder. They were empty. Flat. No spirit. We'd lost my sister. And now we were losing Jesse.

I don't know how I knew that Marguerite was dead. I just knew. In my heart of hearts, I knew.

Ax turned toward me, face human. "Marguerite annihilated herself, or rather, her younger self in the past. When she did that, she no longer existed. Apparently, it seems that she and the Ellimist had a bargain to alter a timeline. But in killing herself, the Ellimist fulfilled his end of the bargain. And thus the Yeerks lost, and Earth does not know about the Yeerks."

I looked out the window again. Earth. Undestroyed. So very . . . . tranquil and peaceful. So easy and relaxing. The truth was too cold, though. Too hard. And I knew the truth too well. My older sister had given her life for the rest of us.

And now she was dead.

Marguerite. Skarlaya.

Sister.

Chapter Twenty-Six – Leslie

I knew Marguerite very well. I mean, we were best friends even before the Yeerks came. So I guess you could say I was the one who knew her the best of all. And there was something inside of me - a tingle, a premonition, I don't know - that told me we hadn't seen the last of her.

You can call it whatever you want. Stupidity. Superstition. A ridiculous hope. Maybe I was just trying to make myself feel better. I mean, the others were doing a lot worse than I was. Maybe I was just coming up with ways to deceive myself of the truth. Maybe it was just all a lie I came up with in my head alone. But sometimes a lie is the kindest thing to believe.

So I kept hoping in an insane way.

Jeremy kept acting bright and happy. He refused to accept it. He couldn't take the fact that someone in our group that had been close to him had been hurt.

Lilith kept crying. It was normal, I guess. Not . . . . strange, like what Jeremy or Jesse had done. At least she accepted what had happened.

But Jesse . . . . he was shutting everything out. It was like nothing existed for him. Like nothing was real anymore. And I sympathized with him in a way. But it was . . . . it was infuriating. Death is something that happens. And that was something I'd expected Jesse to be the most able to accept.

I thought of two lines from a song that Marguerite had sung, once.

Shall we sing of tears, or mirth?

Shall we sing of death, or birth?

Marguerite had laughed at the song, yet believed it. To her, it'd been real. She'd lived those dreams and songs. And I knew what she'd wanted us to do. She'd have wanted us to sing, as the song put it, sing of mirth. And that was what we should have done.

We have a sort of saying, on the streets. "Kafr f'r yas'l, ya be stp'dr. Kafr f'r o'rth, ya be hro'n." Roughly, it translates to, "Die for yourself, you be stupid. Die for others, you be a hero."

And Marguerite did it. She gave up everything for us . . . . gods, she gave up everything for us.

I went to the window, and pushed the shutter up. I forced myself to look out at the stars. The beautiful and deadly stars. The stars from where the Yeerks came. From where all of our dangers had come. Was she out there, somewhere, on a star?

"So, you did it, Margot, " I said. My breath caught in my throat abruptly. "You said you'd die to kill the Yeerks, and you did." I guess I started crying at that point, because I felt tears run down my face even though I didn't feel any sensation of actually crying. "You did it. You won."

At that point, I heard a voice in my head. Maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe I was just hoping against hope. Maybe not. But I know it was Marguerite's voice, imagination or not.

"Don't cry for me, Leslie. I'm happy, now. And Earth is a better place. It's like I said, when we were little, about dying, gallant. They're dead, Rysans. The Yeerks are dead. And that's all that matters."

There was silence for a long time, as I paused in the air, hoping for some more. And then I laughed. "I guess you were right, Margot. You did give up everything. And you did die gallant." But that wasn't all that mattered, I added mentally. There was so much else to you . . . . so much that none of us ever saw past killing all of the Yeerks.

I sat there, by the window for a while. For a long time, I just sat there and cried as I thought of . . . . of a girl who'd been my best friend so very long ago. Of a girl who had been dubbed the beauty in death, of a girl who hated everyone and everything. A girl I'd feared and loved at the same time.

My best friend had given the ultimate gift to us; freedom. She'd paid the price with her life.

And she did it for us.

The Animorphs.

---

[A/N: ~blows out a breath of air~ There. Finished the thing. Until I decide to rewrite it in a few months. . . . ^_^;; If you wanna flame me or whatever, anifuture@hotmail.com. And the webpage 'tis http://anifuture.hypermart.net.]