Captain Kerell-Thurtorne-Chimlay stood at his place at the table, on the opposite end of West. To his left sat a beaming Jan Tormak, and at his right, Katrina Michaelson. It was strange, but how so long ago it seemed that these two were complete strangers to him, but in the span of half a Terran year, they had become close friends. It was something that once-Prince Kerell had never experienced before - a cross-species bond.
Despite his bitter loss to Jan, he still felt a kinship to his Hork-Bajir friend. The other three Andalites (all of whom, including himself, were pilots), were likewise mixed in seating-wise with humans and the second Hork-Bajir, Dom Pratell. Kerell laughed to himself as he realized just how subtle Prin-- Commander West promoted a unified front of multiple races and peoples working as one. It was through those subtleties that he created just that, and the Seraphims have never been stronger.
For months they've trained, until every member, right down to the tech crew, knew how to fight, from piloting a Model 28 Fighter (the most recent fusion of Andalite technology and Human ingenuity), to flying the flagship itself, to using close combat weapons, and to morphing.
It was no secret that every Seraphim was morph-capable. That was the deal between the Terrans and the Andalites, so that the Andalites may be able to participate in this. Every member of the Seraphims would be given access to the device, and (surprisingly, to Kerell) they agreed. Kerell got the chance to have an active role in the most elite of fighting forces, and all the Humans were able to morph. A couple, like Commander West and Chris McCain, were already able to morph, from being involved in the clandestine school that Jake Berenson had taught.
Perhaps that was what bothered Commander West so. From Kerell's previous discussions with him, he knew that Brian liked Berenson immensely. Not as the Great Leader, but as a Great Teacher. Brian said he refused to judge Jake as a leader, because he's never seen him demonstrate his abilities first-hand. Kerell pretty much agreed with his sentiments.
But now... The Professor was in trouble, possibly even killed, and now the professionals were being sent in. There would be no second chances. If this failed, the Seraphims would not try again. Jake, Marco, Tobias, the Forgotten Animorph, Santorelli, Jeanne Gerard, and Menderash-Postill-Fastill, all of them, would be doomed, if not already.
The gravity of the situation began to bear down on Kerell. He quickly shook himself and listened in on the Commander's announcment.
"Okay, everyone, here's our current status," he started. He looked down at his noteputer and then back up to the group. "We have at most, seven people that need to be rescued. Four of these seven are all of the original Animorphs, including Jake Berenson, himself."
West spoke a little louder to shut the murmurs up as he continued: "Furthermore, we have no idea of the opposition, with the exception of the single intelligence report we received from Prince Caysath-Winwall-Esgarrouth. How he came to know of our existence, we're still looking into, but that's not what's important. The story was that shortly after Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill's ship was destroyed by the Blade Ship, Professor Berenson and company hijacked a Yeerk prototype and went out into Kelbrid space to find the Blade Ship and return Prince Aximili home.
"As far as we know, that attempt has failed. We believe that, from the distress signal and the message that the Professor sent, there are still people alive, but we must also remember that these signals don't always get to us immediately, and we will not be able to immediately respond."
Kerell raised a hand. West pointed to acknowledge him. Commander, do we know what the message meant?
West's eyes glazed over. "It was a personal message, and its contents will not be revealed. Just suffice it to say that it's neither an announcement of them living or dying. Therefore, we will assume that they are alive and we will burn in as fast as we can and we'll be meeting up with the Michael en route. So no one better be trying to shave or whatever right after this meeting."
The team shared a laugh as Chris McCain rubbed his hand over his jaw, probing the tiny scar on his left cheek.
West stood up straight again to get everyone's attention back on him. "So that's pretty much it for now. We will be opening the flight simulators within the hour, and we will be inspecting each and every contact we make on our way to the Professor's last known location. And one last thing," he paused, waited for everyone to be looking intently toward him.
"These people gave us the world we have today. I don't plan on flying home empty-handed. If any one of them are still alive, we will get them home. If we have to get ourselves killed to save them, we will get them home. If we have to fight with only our morphs. We. Will. Get. Them. Home. They are the past, present, and future of our world, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let them disappear without a fight. And if the worst has happened, and they aren't alive, then those who are responsible will pay, and they will pay dearly."
The Commander's eyes went blank once again, and he finally just waved his hand at them as he sat down. "That's all. You're dismissed."
Kerell was the last to walk out of the Briefing Room, where he noticed a particularly familiar human, a dark-skinned female, walk up to the zoned out Commander and pulled up a seat next to him. She was whispering, but Kerell could hear her fine.
"Okay, Commander. I'll come," she said.
-----
"Steady as she goes, helm," Brian ordered.
Aye, Commander.
After a long ride in Z-Space, longer than most of the Seraphims had ever been in before, they had finally met up with their capital ship, the 'Michael'. With a length of one thousand, four hundred and five meters and massing one million, nine hundred and thirty thousand tons, there was very little that could stand in her way.
She was based on a design made by NASA during the Space Race in the sixties to create a ship capable of protecting the moon from any intruders. With the help of the Andalites, and the recent advances in Terra's technology, it was made a reality. Two massive engines made the its underbelly, and the bridge was set in the frontmost part of the ship. She was in its most basic shape a trapezoid prism, with two main wings fore and in the back, a cylinder-shaped air lock, also where the engines connected with the rest of the ship. Aside from her two main Ion Launchers, a new weapon created for the sole purpose of scrambling electronics, she had four missile launchers, all loaded with plasma warheads, and a number of Dracon Beams in every direction. To complete the picture, a point defense system consisting of a number of smaller Shredder Beams protected the ship from any incoming fighters. The PDS was completely automated, and was able to recognize friendly ships and distinguish them from hostiles.
She was beautiful. She was strong. And she was all his.
Now, in the 'Michael', they had been flying for over four months, and finally they were approaching the origin of the distress signal. Before, Brian would have let Kerell command, with him being the only other one capable of commanding her without any help needed, but being so close to their objective, West wanted to be there when they found what they were looking for.
The when began to turn into an if.
Miss Brenner had spent a lot of her time on the bridge as well. Waiting, watching... Brian speculated that she was perhaps looking for her own answers somewhere in the stars. 'Despite aliens existing and there being a universe full of sentient life forms, is there still a God?' he wondered.
He hoped there was. Because he knew that somewhere down the line, he was going to need all the help he could get.
"Commander, we have a sensor track!" the Sensor Officer, Master Chief Porter of the US Navy, cried out.
West was up in a flash. He stood in the center of the four terminals, where two humans and two Andalites were stationed at. Helm, sensors, comms, and most of all, weapons. "Do we have a fix?"
"Bearing oh-two-zero by two-one-four, fifty kilometers out. Looks pretty big."
Brian smiled. Something he didn't seem to do as often as he used to. "How big?"
Porter matched his smile. "Not as big as us, sir. But still big enough."
West took the comment under advisement. "Helm, set a course for oh-two-one by two-one-five. I don't want to go head on with 'em. Launch a scout with double fighter escort."
Oh-two-one by two-one five, aye, sir, the Andalite, Terance-Worterelli-Loureux confirmed. He keyed a button on his console to transfer his thought-speak to carry across the ship. Scout Team Delta, launch.
The sound of smaller engines screaming out of their hangars on the sides of the 'Michael' was easily heard on the quiet bridge. Brian turned to Terance. "Reverse thrust, slow down her velocity to two-point-five."
Two-point-five vel, aye.
The Seraphim Commander watched as three smaller ships, one of them slightly larger than the other two, sped into view and quickly became small spots in the vacuum of space.
-----
Tighten it up, Deuce, Captain Kerell called out to his right wingman, Lieutenant Derek Frost, previously of the United States Air Force.
"Roger that, One."
Talk to me, Mel, he said to his navigator and sensor operator, Melacki-Omitose-Courrun. Mel rode with Kerell on the scout ship, but Kerell was in charge of both helm and weapons.
Melacki took a second to reply, but came back strong. [I'm getting readings off it, but it's not strong enough to identify. We've got to get closer.]
Lt. Drake Fox, the fourth and final member of the Delta Scout Team (Both him and Frost were called the Dumb Fucks, but considering their past experience and flying ability, no one ever used it as an insult), replied back as most American pilots seem to have in their tone: confidence. Sometimes to the point of arrogance. "Going toe-to-toe with a capital ship? I like it."
"You would," Frost shot back playfully.
Shut up, Kerell said almost automatically. It wouldn't work, but he had to make an attempt at acting like a commanding officer.
"Aye-aye, Captain Anal, sir," Fox responded.
Kerell ignored him like he did the last five times. He turned his stalk eyes back to his flying partner. Mel, please tell me you've got something. My trigger fingers are getting itchy.
"I'm quiet now," Frost said.
Mel kept his main eyes on the screen, but turned his own stalk eyes to the Captain. The answer to Kerell's question of whether or not Mel was a true jock was answered when he replied without fear, It's the Blade Ship.
"Kick ass," Fox replied with glee.