‹He sees himself as a martyr!› Ax ranted bitterly, pacing beneath my tree. ‹He claims to understand our situation better than we do; he would have it that even Elfangor did not comprehend the 'greater reason' behind giving you the morphing power. Everything is for a reason! Myself, you, this war: everything!›

‹The Ellimist has said as much,› I suggested, weary. I wasn't really in the mood for this discussion, but Ax seemed determined. And at this point, Ax was the only one actually talking to me at all.

‹But that's what the Ellimist does!› he protested, as if that proved something. It had been a long time since I had seen Ax so offended about something. ‹He may even be right; he can obviously see and do things that we cannot. But for Arbron to claim the same knowledge...! He's Taxxon! He's been living on that vile planet for decades; what could he possibly know?›

‹He's an outsider. Different perspective. Or maybe the Ellimist's been talking to him.›

Ax glared at me. Clearly I wasn't being as supportive as he'd like.

I sighed. ‹Your problem really isn't Arbron, is it, Ax? It's that he might be right. He's a Taxxon, like you said, but he's also an Andalite, just like I'm a hawk and a human both. You can't discount that just because he's a nothlit. I know you don't like him, but think about it. He's been around a long time. Yeah, he was living on the Taxxon homeworld. Yeah, his goal in life is to save some carnivorous worms from their own hunger. But that whole time, he's been thinking, he's been monitoring Yeerk communications, he's been going over everything he knew about Alloran and Elfangor and he used that to get here. Arbron managed to make it across the galaxy with a whole clan of free Taxxons. How? Why? Don't you think he had to know about us? He knows something. He talks to everyone, and everyone tells him something. He just sits there and pieces all of that information together.›

I stopped. Ax was glaring at me as only an Andalite can, four eyes locked in and clearly calculating my every possible move. I hadn't really meant to tear his personal vendetta against Arbron apart quite that thoroughly; like I said, Ax was the only one I had left.

‹Sorry,› I offered weakly. ‹It's just...god, this is awful, but I almost wish we were still fighting. Staying here is killing me. Rachel is killing me. Hell, Jake is killing me. I'm sorry. Go ahead and be mad at Arbron; I think he's as creepy as all hell, too.›

Ax relaxed. By a hair. ‹I do not know exactly how creepy your hell is, but I think I agree. However...you could be right. That he reached Earth with such excellent timing is indeed impressive. And...›

‹What?› I asked in spite of myself.

‹He does listen. I don't think he even knew about Elfangor giving you the morphing ability until we talked. He seemed to be implying that I had, but then I thought...It doesn't matter.› He shuddered, then, as if he was trying to shake something off.

‹Wait, what? What did you guys talk about?›

Ax didn't answer, not really; or maybe he did, and I just didn't understand: ‹Elfangor.›

‹Well...,› I said slowly, wondering if Ax would consider this a betrayal. ‹He knew we had the morphing cube, anyway, before. It kinda came up when he met Toby. She...oh, man, she impressed the hell out of him. He thought she was another nothlit - actually, he thought she was an Andalite.› I laughed, hoping Ax would, too. He didn't.

‹...And?›

‹And I said she wasn't. It kind of pissed me off, actually, him assuming that anyone with half a brain had to be an Andalite – I think he's still convinced that I am, too. Anyway, then Toby said that she couldn't even morph – didn't want to be able to – and Arbron asked why, of course, and she launched into this long spiel about David, of all people, and 'look at how that turned out'.›

Ax looked even more annoyed than before. ‹I hadn't realized that that situation had anything to do with the Hork-Bajir.›

‹Well,› I said placatingly, ‹it didn't, of course, by and by large. But you know Toby -- she pays attention. She gets things the rest of them don't. And between David and James and everyone, I guess she's decided she's better off sticking with her own people. Something she made abundantly clear to Arbron.›

Ax seemed to wince. I wondered what he was thinking. He didn't seem mad, exactly; more embarrassed.

‹She has not spoken to Alloran, has she?› he asked, surprising me. I hadn't even thought of that possibility.

‹I don't think so, no,› I replied. ‹God, I hope not. She went back to Earth a few days ago, kind of suddenly. Maybe she didn't get a chance to talk to him.›

Ax looked at me wryly. ‹As you said, Tobias, Toby 'gets' things. Do you really believe she wouldn't have sought out the 'Butcher' of her people's legends?›

I didn't doubt for a minute that he was right: Toby would have leapt at the chance to meet Alloran. I only wondered what had been said.

----

I'd been entrusted with the briefcase, just as I'd once been entrusted with the blue box. Jake didn't seem to care about that disaster anymore, though – or, rather, he cared about everything else too much to focus on my failings.

Inside the briefcase was our enemy: Visser Three of old, lately styled Visser One, now simply a Yeerk living in a tub of grayish sludge attached to a makeshift Kandrona generator pillaged from the Pool ship. His real name, the one poor Alloran knew him by, was Esplin. Esplin 9446 Primary, to distinguish him from his pool-mates and, moreover, his cannibalistic twin. Who was probably still alive on Earth, given.

The Yeerks' empire was destroyed. Earth would not be theirs. We'd won. I wouldn't have to lie anymore. My planet was saved. My family was saved.

And Rachel was dead.

Rachel was dead, Tom was dead, tens of thousands of Yeerks were dead, either when we ejected them into space or during the past three days while we had moped aboard the Dome ship Elfangor. Though it had never been said, I was sure that half of the reason for keeping us here had been to make sure. To make sure we weren't Controllers. And, for that matter, to make sure there wouldn't be a Yeerk waiting for each of us when we got home.

I wondered how long we would stay here. I had seen Ax talking to Jake, but both of them were avoiding me, so I didn't know what was said. He didn't stay long, anyway. I didn't see how he could have, with Jake as he was. No one except the dead could talk to Jake now.

I talked to Alloran, sometimes. He was confused about so many things, although he, ever the Andalite prince, rarely admitted it. I think he knew I had Esplin. Maybe not, though; maybe he was just as lonely and scared as I was, desperate for company. He had tried talking to Tobias and Ax, he said, but found it impossible. They were clinging to each other, obviously, and each had his own reasons for not wanting anything to do with Alloran. Why they wouldn't talk to me, I didn't know.

Alloran said the Captain resented us for keeping Esplin as our prisoner. I had asked what the Andalites would do with him, if he were their prisoner. Alloran's eyes had darkened dangerously.

‹He would not be a prisoner.›

That was why I wasn't talking to any of the other Andalites.

I wanted to go home. The war was over and I wanted to be with my parents again. I didn't even know where they were. They had been in the Hork-Bajir valley when we'd left for the final mission, but now, they could be anywhere. I hoped they were safe. I hoped they knew I was safe.

Marco, too, would have reasons to fear for his parents. As the former host of Visser One, Eva would be a target for many. We couldn't hope to keep her rescue a secret much longer, and I doubted that Marco would want to. And Jeremy would be working with the Andalites as soon as he had half a chance – he wouldn't be content to hide away in a mountain valley for long. And Jake's family...

I sighed and leaned back against the towering blue asparagus stalk Alloran had called a therant tree. At the moment, the twin of my own osprey morph was settling into its crown.

‹Hey, kiddo. Crazy spaceship the blue dudes have, huh?›

"Marco," I said, smiling up at him. "What're you doing?"

‹Getting some air. It's been so weird, just lying around as a human.› He fluffed his feathers a bit, restless. ‹I can't believe it's really over, can you?›

I sighed. "It's over?"

He flapped downward to a lower branch. ‹Well. No.›

We were silent for a few moments. Then I felt the tree shudder and heard a thump behind me. Marco-the-boy lay sprawled in the thick blue grass. He grinned hugely and rolled over on his stomach.

"Been way too long," he observed. That could mean almost anything, but, from him, it was our forced confinement, the necessity of being good little humans sitting quietly in the Dome, waiting for word from the Andalites.

"Yeah," I agreed. I tried to smile, but now I couldn't. My eyes were suddenly wet with tears. I leaned forward, head on knees, and then Marco was there, his arm around my shoulders.

"Hey, hey," he said quietly, "I know. It'll be alright. We'll be okay."

I leaned into him, taking comfort in his humanity. The Andalites had tried to make a little world for themselves here in the Dome, but it was alien to me and I could never forget that we were in a bubble, surrounded by light-years of nearly-empty space.

"We have to go home," I said. "I can't stay here any longer. I just can't." I looked up at him; his eyes were on the Dome above us, looking out at our little blue planet.

"Home," he agreed, rubbing my back absently. "Yeah, we do."

"Marco, what's wrong?" I asked.

He looked at me, then, and I wanted to pull away. He seemed suddenly so old and distant; his eyes reminded me of Jake's. He reached out with his leg to prod at the suitcase lying in the grass.

"That's him, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, that's something that's wrong, for one. What are we gonna do with him, Cassie? Take him home and put him in a goldfish bowl? That's Visser freakin' Three you've got sitting there. Or used to be, anyway. And then there's Alloran. You guys talk, don't you. Where is he going? He going to come live on your dad's land, with Ax? Except, Ax thinks he's going home, too – and he doesn't mean Earth."

"Marco, we always knew Ax would go back. He's just a kid, like us. That's where his family is."

He moved away. "I know. But does he have to be so goddamned smug about it? And what about Jake -- what are we going to do about him? He's a mess, he can't even contemplate going back to his parents...Tom, Rachel, god. What are we going to do?"

He seemed so plaintive, and so utterly incapable of decision. Marco needs action. He lives on having a goal and finding a way to achieve it. They all do: Jake, Marco, Rachel, Ax. Tobias, even, in his own way. The war had given them focus and purpose and now, without it, those who were left couldn't find a path to follow.

But I - the reluctant Animorph, the killer with a conscious - I had resented it every single time the war had forced me into yet another moral compromise. Now, faced with a chance to finally do real good, the first step was perfectly clear to me.

"We're going to go back to Earth, Marco. The three of us, anyway: you, me, Jake. Ax and Tobias are going to have to make their own decisions. But Earth needs us back. Jake's parents need him back, even if he doesn't believe it."

He nodded slowly, troubled and far away. "I just wish it had ended better," he said mournfully.

"It was a war, Marco. No one walks away unbloodied. But now our job is hang on to everything we've been fighting for."

"You're right," he agreed, pushing off the ground and then turning around to haul me up after him. "You're absolutely right. Let's go get Jake -- we're outta here."