#3 – Years

Rachel

The others – Marco, Jake, Cassie, even Tobias – think of me as this brave-to-the-point-of-insane warrior. Sometimes I feel like I am. I mean, usually I feel like that. That's what Earth needs, so that's what I am. I like to think it's just because I take pride in being the best at my job, you know? If I were a baker, I'd be intense about baking the best damn cakes in the world. That's just how I am.

Sometimes, it's shoved in my face that I'm not Joan of Arc. Sometimes, the world shows me that I'm just some scared little girl who's in way over her head. When that happens, though, I don't have the luxury of breaking down. I can't cry to Tobias or put my head on Cassie's shoulder. They need me to be that crazy, gung-ho fighter.

A lot has happened lately. I had a chance to bail. My dad offered – insisted, almost – that I move away with him. To another city, in another state. Nobody could have blamed me if I'd taken him up on it…and so what if they did? I'd be a thousand miles away from anybody who would judge me. I'm proud of myself every day for doing the right thing, even though it was hard – staying in the fight.

The other day, Marco had died getting the Pemalite crystal for Erek. Not been hurt, not injured…dead. Erek had revived him, but Erek wouldn't always be around. It really brought home the fact that none of us are immortal. And when you realize your own mortality, it's like a worm inside of you that tries to eat up all of your bravery.

So after lying awake for two hours after turning out my light for the night, I decided to get some answers.

Ax lives in the woods by Cassie's farm. It's about a half hour away, as the owl flies. I went there to talk to him, because I couldn't sleep and I know Andalites hardly ever do.

I saw him track my approach with one stalk eye as I flew toward his scoop. (Hey, Ax, it's me. Rachel,) I told him as I perched on the end of a bookshelf he'd gotten from somewhere. The shelf was full of everything from Reader's Digest to quantum physics textbooks.

(Hello, Rachel. Nighttime visits are highly irregular; is anything wrong?)

I didn't answer right away; I used the time it took to demorph to think about what I wanted to say. Now that I was actually here, I felt kind of silly. Ax was stranded on an alien planet. He was all alone in an alien forest. I didn't really have the right to dump my problems on him. I was already here, though.

"Yeah, everything is cool," I lied. "I just had a couple of questions." I leafed through an issue of Car and Driver casually, like what I had to say wasn't very important. Ax didn't seem fooled. The lids around his stalk eyes narrowed, and when he spoke, it was with a guarded tone.

(I have agreed to tell you everything I could,) he said, but I could tell he was hedging a little. My little unannounced visit was freaking him out, so I decided to go for broke. To just come out with it and ask him what I came here for.

"We're holding our own, right?" I wondered, but it was really more to myself than to Ax. "I mean, that's all we can do, right? Hold out until your people get here?"

(Yes. As I understand it, that is our primary objective – to cause enough trouble to slow down the Yeerks' progress until the fleet gets here.)

"So they are coming?" I asked. I tossed the magazine down and made unwavering eye contact – I wanted to see honesty when he answered. It was the only thing that would make me feel better. "I mean, I know you told them what was up when you called home. They know we need them. Are you sure they're going to come and help us?"

Andalites are not humans. Their facial expressions don't mean the same things. But I feel like he was being straight with me when he said, (Yes, they will come. We unleashed the Yeerks on the galaxy. It is our fault that your people are suffering, and my people will not stand for it. They will come, Rachel.)

That was good enough for me, but another question nagged me. I didn't think Ax would have the answer, but I wouldn't be satisfied if I left without asking it, either. "When?"

(I do not understand the question.)

"I mean, when are they going to come? Will they put us as their first priority? Are they on the way right now? And if so, how long will it take them to get here?"

Ax tapped his left rear hoof lightly against the ground, a gesture I took to mean the same thing as a human shrug. (I have no way of knowing, Rachel. If you forced me to guess, I would say yes, they will put Earth as their highest priority. But that presumes several things, things I have no way of knowing. There are too many variables to postulate an accurate -)

"What if it takes them years?" I asked, and I was embarrassed to hear my voice come out as barely more than a whisper. "What if we're all dead before they come?"

Ax tentatively put a seven-fingered hand on my shoulder. Andalites don't do a whole lot of physical contact with each other, I don't think, and that made it a little more touching for him to do it. It made the comfort he was trying to share a little more real. (Those questions are irrelevant and unworthy of a warrior in wartime,) he said gently. (Our job is the same, no matter what the answers are.) He curved his stalk eyes and narrowed his main eyes into the expression we were coming to see as a smile. (In a way, it's what makes being a warrior attractive – at least to me. I've never been a great philosopher, and the good thing about being a soldier is that philosophy is not really expected of you. Our job is to fight. Other events will either take care of themselves or they won't. But even if we knew my people would never come…we would still fight, would we not?)

I smiled back as I let the truth of his words sink in. He was right; of course he was right. "Yeah. We would still fight." I patted his hand, and he let it drop from my shoulder. "So what you're saying is that the only thing expected of me is to keep doing exactly what I'm doing, and let fate sort out the rest of it?"

He smiled again as I began to morph. (Yes. Eloquently put, Rachel.)

My mouth was gone, but I had progressed into the morph far enough to use thought speech again. (You know what, Ax? I like you.)

He went back to tinkering with the alarm clock he was taking apart. (I like you, too, Rachel. You are very…Andalite…at times. You make me feel less homesick.)

He probably didn't mean for those words to affect me as deeply as they did. I had never really stopped to think about how alone he must be, and how much bravery it took for him to fight with us. We human Animorphs had no choice. Ax did, and he chose to fight with us instead of hiding out, waiting for his people to rescue him.

(Thanks, Ax.)

(Thank you, Rachel.)