My name is Arbron-Bantec-Deromar.
So many years have passed since my accident, the accident that changed my life forever. There are times when I cannot even remember my full name. And yet, I treasure my old name, the last tenuous link to a people that have written me off as dead, or worse. Those around me, my allies and my chosen people, have no names, not even a word for "name", and yet they are my only companions in the war I fight.
When my battle began, I was once a very different being. I had four agile eyes, four swift legs, two dextrous six-fingered arms, and a razor sharp tail. And I am- or at least, I used to be, an aristh in the Andalite military. I joined the military seeking adventure and excitement. I dreamt of flying through the galaxy in my fighter, killing Yeerks, bringing evildoers to justice. There was a time when I thought that murder and slaughter were valiant acts to be applauded, the perpetrators decorated as heroes and paraded out in front of an adoring crowd.
If I were to blame anyone, of course, it would be the humans. Humans are a bizarre species, with only two legs, two eyes, tottering around on skinny legs adorned with strange artificial hooves. Both of them had been abducted by the Skrit Na for some reason or another. There were two of them. One was a female of the species called Loren. The other… I do not remember his name. He was harsher and abrasive than Loren, to be sure. Perhaps they returned to their home planet. Perhaps not.
It should have been a routine mission. Me and my fellow aristh Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul were sent to retrieve them, return them to their home planet, and wipe their memories. Until, of course, we discovered that the Skrit Na possessed the Time Matrix. A frantic chase led me, Elfangor, and our commander Alloran to the Taxxon planet.
By Andalite standards, it is not a pleasant world. There is no grass and no trees. The only plants that can survive at all are tough and thorny, more like prickly armored spheres than any kind of real plant. The enormous red sun makes the air shimmer with heat in the daytime; the nights are frigid. The majority of animals that live on the planet are burrowers; eking out a living underground.
You could say that I am something of an expert on the planet. After all, I spent dozens of years there due to my own error.
Almost all Andalites possess the morphing ability. It allows us to acquire the DNA of other species and even to become them. It was the only way that me, Alloran, and Elfangor could infiltrate the Taxxon home world without attracting Yeerk attention.
But morphing is a double-edged sword. When you morph a creature, you acquire all the instincts, all the desires and fears of that creature. Taxxons are not pleasant creatures to look at, with enormous circular mouths lined with rotating teeth, an enormous worm-like body tipped with dozens of legs, and four shimmering, gelatinous eyes. But it is the hunger- the all-consuming, frantic, desperate hunger, that leaves them as the least desirable hosts for Yeerks and an unpleasant morph for Andalites.
And then there is the other downside of morphing. Remain in morph longer than two Earth hours, and you are trapped. Forever. Never to morph again.
And that is what happened to me.
I had been trapped in a starship hangar after I had succumbed to the Taxxon morph's instincts and cannibalized a dying member of my race. There, among dozens of other Taxxon-Controllers and Gedds, I felt the internal clock count down. I could not dimorph without being immediately set upon and being killed.
And now, as I scuttled through the metal streets of the Yeerk spaceport, I wondered just what fate awaited me, with the cold and dispassionate analysis of someone who has just had their entire life shattered. I was no longer part of the Andalite military. Nothlits- someone who has been trapped in a morph- are not looked kindly upon in Andalite society. I didn't even want to know how Andalites would treat a Taxxon nothlit.
By all accounts, I should be screaming with fear and self-loathing and agony about what I had done to myself. And yet, I felt nothing. Nothing, that is, but the eternal hunger that would live within me forever.
I tried to jog my emotions by thinking of my family. They would probably never know what happened to me; at best some military officer would cordially inform my parents that I had been killed in the line of duty and leave it at that.
That hurt, a little bit.
I tried thinking about the Dome ship that I had spent the last few months aboard. I prodded myself mentally. Iwould never again graze, or run free, or practice my tail-fighting with Elfangor.
That hurt a little more.
And then, suddenly, I thought about my guide tree, nestled next to the river that ran past our scoop. I would never see it again- I would never see that meadow again! I would never even see my entire home planet again, or my friends, or my family…
I wanted to slump onto the ground and scream. But that would more likely than not bring other Taxxons to my location, and I knew what they did with prone members of their species. Instead, I ducked behind a row of parked Bug fighters, pressing myself into a large grate that led underneath the spaceport, scurrying beside piles of old garbage and sewage.
I turned a corner- and saw another Taxxon hunched behind a mound of trash, fixing me with a stare.
I froze instinctually. But the Taxxon did not rush to cannibalize me, regarding me with a strange curiosity that I had never seen before.
‹Arbron! Is that you?›
And then, relief filling my hearts, I realized that this particular Taxxon had a few tufts of blue fur shrinking rapidly into its swollen body, hooves melting into needle feet. And no Taxxon had ever used thought-speak.
‹Yes, it's me.› I said slowly and cautiously, not wanting to betray what had happen to me.
‹What happened to you? I lost you and Alloran in that terrible feeding frenzy.› Elfangor could not have known what had happened to me, and I did not want to tell him.
I didn't say anything for a few moments. I did not want to admit that I had failed to him. I tried to change the subject, tried to emulate the cheerful recklessness that I had become infamous for. ‹So. We gonna rescue this Time Matrix thing or what? Hero time, huh?›
‹Yeah. Hero time.› Even as he said the words, I could tell that he knew what had happened to me. As I watched the last traces of Andalite become swallowed up in the vile worm body of the Taxxon, I felt a sudden stab of jealousy. Elfangor… Elfangor had no right to be able to morph when I would be stuck like this forever. For one brief, horrible moment I wanted to attack him on the spot, for him to feel a tiny fragment of the misery and pain that I was experiencing. I shuddered with revulsion and turned around, slithering away towards the spaceship. It was the only way we would ever get off this planet, but what future did I have?
‹Where's Alloran?› he asked.
‹I don't know,› I said, trying to sound flippant. ‹I lost him in the crowd. Just you and me, I guess. Come on. Let's do it. Let's save the world, hah-hah! Just what you planned, eh, Elfangor? Elfangor the hero?› I was babbling now, trying to distract Elfangor from realizing what had happened to me, trying to distract my own frantically racing mind with meaningless jabber.
‹If I end up being a hero, you'll be one too.› he said. ‹Besides, let's just see if we survive first.›
‹Yeah. Survive. Come on, Elfangor. Finish morphing.›
Elfangor had a plan, fortunately. Not a very good one, but under the circumstances it was the only real course of action we had. We would infiltrate the stolen Skrit Na ship, posing as Taxxon computer repair specialists.
‹Don't hesitate,› advised Elfangor from up ahead. ‹Look like you're on your way to work.›
‹Shut up, Elfangor,› I suddenly snapped, and instantly regretted it. Not just because I had likely hurt Elfangor's feelings, which were probably already strained to he limit, but because I was giving away what had happened. I babbled giddily one moment and turned sullen and withdrawn the next. And I knew that Elfangor was beginning to suspect what had happened.
Elfangor bluffed our way past the Gedds, and we dragged our bloated Taxxon bodies into the ship, preparing it for takeoff. Even as the Gedds pounded on the hull, realizing what had happened and demanding that we open the ship's hatch, I watched sadly as Elfangor resumed his Andalite shape. He looked at me with a mixture of guilt and pleading in his eyes.
‹Arbron! What are you up to? Demorph!› he yelled at me. But he already knew what had happened. He had always known what had happened, hadn't he?
What else could I say?
‹I really wish I could, Elfangor. I really wish I could.›
Author's Note: Arbron's name comes from the story "Grieving in Blue and Orange" by alikat522. It's a great story and I strongly recommend reading it. Keep up the good work, Alikat!
