Choice
Disclaimer: They're mine…all mine…I invented them…AAAAHHHHH!!!!!! LAWYERS!!!!!!!
Authors Note: I wrote this very late at night while listening to a mixed tape featuring, among other things, a Tapping The Vein cover of Tori Amos's "Cornflake Girl"—which I have always thought was a perfect song for explaining the duality of Rachel's nature, but I promise not to allow this to become a songfic of any type. I hate them with a burning passion—and a heckuva lot of Nightwish songs. They probably come out in the writing.
Again, I'm so very sorry this is taking so long to get put together, but I have been working rather obsessively on "Tortoiseshell," and frankly, that story is a lot more important to me. (259 pages and counting on that sucker.)
Thank you to anyone who reads and reviews this…feedback makes the world go round.
Also, just a couple quick little things…this is the first, and I think, only, chapter where we have changing POVs. Also, I think KAA's explanation as to why someone can't use the blue box twice is some of the wooliest thinking I've ever heard…just so's you know.
******
It had become routine in the last couple of weeks…we would drag our pathetic, bleeding carcasses off the battlefield, duck behind some trees, and morph quickly to some small, unobtrusive animal that a person would only notice if they were looking for it.
Tonight, Marco and I were on duty, and we had already selected bats. Jake whispered something along the lines of "good work, guys," and trotted off, already late for his curfew. In these last couple of weeks, his grades had slipped enough that his parents were seriously considering getting him a tutor…not that any of us were doing any better. Most of our parents had blamed our odd behavior on Rachel's death. They were right, even if they didn't know exactly how.
The Yeerks had hastened their actions, and we were desperately underhanded. Rachel had always accounted for most of the casualties we inflicted on the Yeerks, and as much as that had sickened me before, I was starting to understand why the death was sometimes necessary. It often seemed these days that for every Controller we took down, three of four more would pop out of the woodwork.
Renee's group might prove our ultimate salvation. They wouldn't need any convincing as to why a bunch of two-inch long slugs were dangerous. They already knew those dangers, and were prepared to face them and deal with them, however necessary. I had been thinking that perhaps Renee and three of her older crew members could handle the job. Until we decided on whether or not to admit a few new members, Jake had us watching these scavenger bands. We had identified at least twelve members so far, and they never, ever went out in groups smaller than three…at least, not since we had caught those two kids. We had followed them through the cities, and through the forests, and had begun to know their habits rather well. So far, we hadn't been seen or heard. At least, none of us thought so.
******
"How many?" Jason asked me in a fashion that had more to do with lip reading than sound.
"Two, I think. Bat-form. They're in that little maple tree over there. See? They look like big leaves."
"Do you want us to talk to them?"
"No. Just get what we're after and leave."
******
Currently, we were perched upside down in a tree, indulging in one of our favorite new hobbies—Animorphs conspiracy theory. Topics had ranged from what exactly had made Tobias decide to stay hawk (and why he had chose to deny that living as a hawk was a conscious decision he had made), all the way to Jake's absolutely abnormal behavior over the course of the last several months—even before Tom's death. Tonight's discussion, however, revolved around Rachel.
Where do you think she is now? The question was one that I had asked thousands of times before, and I had never heard an answer that seemed…right…to me.
Marco is quiet for a long while. Maybe…maybe she really did die. Maybe Jake just made up that story about faking her death so that we wouldn't be so depressed. A few yards away, a young boy pried a Dracon beam out of the hands of an unconscious, badly hurt Hork-Bajir warrior.
Nuh-uh.
Oh, you know something?
When I was at her house, about, two weeks after…you know…I saw that there was some stuff missing.
So maybe her mom took it.
Nope. This was all stuff that Rachel kept sorta hidden, but hidden in plain view. You wouldn't have seen it if you hadn't known what to look for. Did you know her journal was a plain composition book? Her father sent her all kinds of fancy notebooks for Chanukah and her birthday, but she never used them. Well, all her old journals are gone. So're some of the pictures of us that she used to keep up on that old bulletin board of hers. There's also some books and CDs missing. Rachel came in, packed some of her stuff, and left town. It's the only possible way. We watched Renee's group for a few more seconds before continuing the conversation. I fought the urge to yawn. Since the very first night that we had stayed after a battle to watch the clean-up crews come in, the routine was always the same: dart out from a distance, grab any and all useful weapons, communicators, or sometimes just objects that looked unusual or of value, and leave quickly. Nothing any different ever happened.
A good theory; I give you that? But where would our fallen colleague go? It's not like she could have gone to her father's place, and if she were staying with friends she would have called us or written by now. She's your best friend. Renee's group was moving off now. Yet another assignment, completely without incident. I stretched my wings, and prepared to go home.
******
"I can see something on the glasses!" I grabbed the night-vision glasses from Taran, and blessed the Yeerks for one of the most absolutely wonderful little inventions ever seen on this planet—night vision glasses that wore like ray Bans.
A human with a shotgun was approaching from about a hundred yards away…well, it was hunting season around here. I didn't think that there was anything to worry about, but I flicked on the UV detectors for the glasses. Ah, yes…hanging at the human's side was a Dracon beam, showing up white-hot in my view. He was probably checking on this unit that had gone missing. I frowned as I noticed him looking at the fallen bodies of his comrades, and then directly at the maple tree where two of my former teammates were hiding. He lifted his weapon…
No…
I was running toward them before his hand reached the holster.
******
I could see everything happening as if it was in slow motion. The Human-Controller raised the weapon and took careful aim in our direction. Although the blast moved extremely fast, I imagined that I could see the reddish light inch toward us, knowing all the while that Marco and I were absolutely frozen, and that there was no way we could evade the beam enough to escape.
A second or two passed before I actually felt pain. Then I felt the thin, sensitive membrane of my wing crisp and crumple like a piece of tissue paper in a fire. I saw stars, and tried to scream. As a bat, all I could do was chirp desperately. I could see Marco on the ground in front of me, an ear singed off. He was still breathing, but definitely unconscious. I could feel the vibrations of the controller walking steadily toward us. He had been shooting to stun, not to kill. The Yeerks most definitely wanted us alive. I suppressed a moan of fear and prayed for a quick, easy death, and knew that there would be none—only torture at the hands of the Visser.
Then there's a hard impact, and a sense of air rushing past our ears. I hear a muffled scream, and land in what feels like a canvas bag, on top of Marco and several metal implements. As I feel our savior begin a fast, loping gait, I allow myself to sink into unconsciousness.
******
DammitdammitdammitDAMMIT!
I work to keep myself breathing steadily and my feet moving over the rough terrain, eyes squinted to make out any roots or rocks in my path. I have a mile or two of running before I hit the outer limits of our town. From there I can take a bus back to my main headquarters.
Never taking my eyes off the track before me, I fish in my bag, feeling the steady pulses of the two tiny creatures in my care. I reach past them, and grab the walkie-talkie that I use to communicate with all my little "hunting parties."
"Taran? Jason? I'm going to be a little late. Go straight home. Over."
******
I woke up a few hours later. In a blind panic, I ran my hands over my arms, legs, and face, and was relieved to find myself human once again. Marco!
"Your pal demorphed, had some coffee, and decided he'd rather wait outside your window." I look up blearily to see the (rather handsome) boy that I had seen with Renee.
"What happened?"
"Some controller shot the two of you down. We were nearby. Renee heard the guy coming, and doubled back to warn you. She saw the shot go off, picked the you both up, decked the guy hard and ran off with you in her bag. When you got here, both of you woke up enough to start demorphing. It was…creepy."
Just then, the Hero of the Day herself graced us with her presence. I knew I ought to feel a little more charitable, but I had been shot, bounced around, and had demorphed unconsciously in what was possibly enemy territory—I was feeling a little disgruntled.
"So, did we have a nice nap, then?"
"Uh…yeah. Is Ma—my friend okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine. He turned into a seagull and perched outside your window. So…is there anything you would like to share with me right now. Since we're all such good friends and all." She smiled at me, and looked a bit like a lioness in a zoo. Caged, yes. Tamed, no. I decided that the only possible course at the moment was the truth.
"We've, uh, been watching you for the last week or so. In dog form and fly form and stuff. Sorry…we didn't really mean to freak you guys out or anything, but it was for your own good."
"I know."
"What?!"
"I said, 'I know.' Honestly, it's not like you guys have really been covering your tracks all that well. Great horned owls generally don't zip low around city skylines. Only in Harry Potter books and Alfred Hitchcock movies," Renee smirked scathingly. I felt a blush of embarrassment try to crawl up my neck. "By the way, spare me the 'for your own good' crap. We just saved you, not vice-versa. Remember that, okay. I haven't ever had even one casualty in any of my groups. We are very, very good at avoiding the Yeerk retrieval forces. We don't confront them…we just run and hide. It's worked so far, and we don't need any of you 'Animorphs' to baby-sit us, okay?"
The girl with the spiky blond hair looked at Renee a little reproachfully. "They were only trying to help us, Ren."
Renee massaged her forehead gently. "Sorry to snap, but that's my point. They can't take care of their own. She," Renee gestured wildly at me, "would be dead right now without our help, and yet she'll sit there and preach to us about how they've been spying on us 'for our own good'—like we're a bunch of pathetic kids or something."
I sat up. "Look, Renee…I'm really, really sorry you feel this way. We—my team and I—we've been thinking of what to do about your group." I waved a hand in the direction of some of the smaller kids. "You seem to know a lot about the Yeerks. Surely you know that any one of those kids could be taken, and then the Yeerks would be able to get all of you without even trying."
Renee set her jaw and looked stubborn, but said nothing.
"Look, as long as I'm here…I'm gonna offer this to you. Our leader has been talking about this for a little while now, and I think everyone on the team is in total agreement about this," I sucked in a deep breath, trying not to think of the enormity of the lie I was about to tell. "We'd be willing to accept you and three other members of your group on our team. You can just come by that place where we first met you at about midnight tomorrow night, and get the power." Jake is going to kill me. His face will turn purple, his nostrils will flare out, he'll start talking in that soft, silky voice he has, and then he will murder me.
Renee looked away for a long while before answering. "We'll…consider it."
"Thank you…I need to get going. It's really getting late." Before another word could be spoken, I zipped into bat form and launched myself out the nearest open window.
Marco!
Yeah?
Come on, we need to get to Jake's house. I need you to help me handle our fearless leader.
Ooooh…a kinky girl!
Ha-ha. Look, you know what a human shield is, right?
******
I rubbed my temples wearily and tried to tune out Taran and Jason's bickering. All of my mind was totally absorbed by what Cassie had said. I could pick any three of my group and allow them—and myself—to receive the morphing power. No little kids, and the three would have to realize that they were now under Jake's command. Hah…there were definitely worse things. None of my people were anywhere near as hotheaded in the face of danger as I had been. They would be great Animorphs candidates…probably Taran, Jason, and Zach…and me?
I could be an Animorph again.
Nuh-uh. I'd already burned this bridge. I had started this little retrieval operation because I had come to grips a long time ago with the fact that I go absolutely nutso in a fight. I would be on the field for about four seconds before the Animorphs would regret their decision to recruit me.
Besides, I wasn't really ready to be lorded over by Jake again.
I could fly as an eagle…I could swim as a dolphin…I would have the strength of a bear and the speed of a cheetah again.
I sighed. After experiencing the sensations felt by different animals, being human all the time was like being blind and deaf. I was constantly aware of how slow and clumsy I was, and how bad my hearing and eyesight and sense of smell were.
I remember soaring a mile and a half up, watching the mountains and meadows spread beneath me like a crazy patchwork quilt. I remember the taste of salmon, eaten while still in its death throes, the meat sweeter and fresher than anything I had ever tasted before. I remember the feeling of wind whistling through my feathers. I remember not caring about how long I had been in morph, and knowing how Tobias had felt in those last minutes, his subconscious deciding that he would be far happier as a hawk than as an abused human boy…
"So, what have you decided?" I jumped, and cursed myself for my inattentiveness. Twice in one day I had been caught completely off-guard. This was unacceptable. I tried to hide my annoyance and turned to Jenny.
"I haven't yet. I think that the ones that Jake really could use are Taran, Zach, and Jason, but those are my three best. I don't know if I can spare them."
"Wouldn't you be joining, too?"
"I was thinking about that. The answer is gonna have to be a big, fat NO."
"Why? I know you miss morphing. I can see it written on your face every time you look into the sky and see a hawk or even a seagull."
"I do miss morphing. I just…"
"Don't think you've earned the right to morph again?" My silence was probably all the response the Chee needed. "Look, Renee, you made a mistake."
"I know that. And I'm willing to bet anything that Jake knows that, too." I absently twirl a strand of my now-curly red hair around my finger. "The problem is that I'm dead."
Jenny looks deeply at me, her holographic eyes concerned. "We've been through this before, Ren. You're not dead. I, for one, cannot believe that Lourdes allowed herself to be talked into that." I shake my head.
"That's not the point, Jenn. The point is that, to them, I'm gone. They don't need me to come back and screw things up again. The best I can do is stay back and train people up to join the team. Besides, the work I do here is important."
"Uh-huh. And all this has nothing to do with the fact that you're scared of losing control in morph again." Damn. Jenny had hit the nail on the head. I was afraid. Even at the best of times, I had always needed a good long while to get control of a new morph. In battle, I tended to cut loose an awful lot. I was terrified that if I went into battle again, I would kill someone else who was important to me.
"Y'know…Renee—Rachel--since you…changed…you've seemed a lot, well, saner. Calmer. You aren't as argumentative, and you just seem a lot more easygoing. I guess a few months out of the thick of things was really just what you needed."
Shit! She knew! Dammit…just one little tiny secret that I desperately needed to keep hidden…
"Renee, if you had that condition, then don't you think that there's a big chance Jake has that 'little problem,' too? And if he does, shouldn't the others know about it? Just in case?"
"Jenny?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
******
"So, let me get this straight."
I gulped. It wasn't as thought I didn't love Jake, but when he got in these moods he was…less than pleasant to be around.
"You and Marco are yammering away, barely paying attention to your immediate surroundings, when the two of you get fried."
I wonder if I could jump out the window.
"You are saved by Renee. That was rather nice of her, don't you think?"
We nod frantically.
"One thing leads to another, and you tell them that four of them are welcome to join us."
"Well, we've been watching them long enough to know basically what kind of people they are."
"Right. What was it you said about David? Poor taste in music and good taste in comic books?"
Crap. He brought up David. I hope he sends a nice bouquet to my funeral.
"Well then…" Jake grins for a moment, looking for all the world like Rachel. "I guess we'll have to make them at home, then, won't we?"