Aximili's Headache

Yes you, who must leave everything,

That you cannot control.

It begins with your family,

But soon it comes round to your soul.

From Leonard Cohen's "Sisters of Mercy"

It all came very sudden. Until then, Aximili's freedom from the Fleet had passed more or less eventlessly. But on the fifth day, a Prince had arrived, unannounced, and proclaimed that Aximili, on his return to the Fleet, would be the Captain of a new ship. His new duties – chasing Yeerks, particularly the Blade ship – were explained to him formally, but without any fuss. He would be returning to duty a week earlier than planned, in order to give him time to familiarize himself with the ship and the officers who would be appointed beneath him. Before the Prince decided it was time for him to leave, which he did basically the moment he finished speaking, (giving no chance for the stunned Aximili to take in much of what he had been told) he told Aximili that he was to name the ship himself.

When the Prince had gone, Aximili had to wait for the news to sink through into his conscious mind before he could call the Fleet and have them confirm the tale. They did. He was appointed as Captain on a new ship. They sent him diagrams and holographic pictures of the ship over the communications link, and reminded him that he was called in for duty only five days from then.

Once Noorlin and Forlay had calmed down from the news – both were bursting with pride, and even on Noorlin's face it was obvious – they left Aximili alone enough to consider the main question; a name.

A name, for his ship, for his beautiful new ship.

He had only seen the creation on holograms, but had been instantly enraptured by it. He had never seen so beautiful a ship; so perfectly planned, so perfectly constructed…

Of course, it had to be perfectly named.

By the second evening, Aximili knew every passage on the ship by heart. He had been tracing his fingers along every corridor on the three-dimensional hologram, from the main corridors leading to the bridge, to the slightest passageways down in engineering. He did not notice that Issetha was growing bored with the ship, slumbering in the back of his head as his concentration kept drifting back to the image of his new ship, imagining walking along its corridors, imagining its prowess in battle, and imagining…

Its name.

Before the cold morning dew left the grass outside the scoop, at dawn with three days before his scheduled return to the Fleet, Aximili was out and running, feeding. He was enjoying the freedom of being on his own lands, on his Home Planet, and – for the time – perfectly safe. Most of all, he enjoyed the fact that Issetha was with him, still undetected by any Andalites. It was a faultless morning.

He slowed to a lazy trot as he caught the Yeerk's attention with a stir of thoughts.

Yes? Issetha murmured, also she enjoying the peaceful morning.

Now don't ignore me, he warned.

You want to speak about your ship.

Yes.

The Yeerk's presence was bored. Can't you think of something else, just for a day?

Not quite, Aximili admitted. But listen to me.

Of course I'm listening, Issetha assured him – automatically.

I wanted to name the ship after you, said the Andalite to his Yeerk, and was pleased to feel how she jolted in the back of his mind, suddenly giving his thoughts her complete attention. He went on: But the People will be suspicious if I give the ship a Yeerk name. So I have decided to name it the Intrepid – the bold, the fearless. He felt his thought-voice being lowered as he continued. For that is what you are. And moreover, that is what you make me. You are my courage, Issetha. I would never have been able to go through this alone.

For a moment the Yeerk said nothing, stunned. Aximili… she whispered finally, alone, you would not have had to gone through this at all.

Aximili barged right on, trying to explain, perhaps as much to himself as to Issetha. Then I would never have known bravery. I can defy an enemy, and that takes a certain type of courage. But to be forced to go against the People… that would break most Andalites, and it takes a completely different type of courage. And alone…

Are you aware that you just called yourself a coward, leefachir? Issetha giggled, in the manner of someone not sure how to react.

Aximili frowned mentally, and Issetha continued in a more sombre voice; But you are far from a coward. How many arisths would have been brave enough to defy not only the People, but also the Fleet?

This aristh had had some practice, Aximili said dryly.

Issetha's touch on his mind was tender agreement. I appreciate the gesture, leefachir, she told him, completely honestly. I don't know why you thought of it, but… I feel honoured.

I'm glad.

The Intrepid, was that the name?

Yes.

It has a nice ring to it. Prince-captain Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill of the Intrepid. The younger brother of the Great Elfangor. The saviour of Earth.

The one and only Andalite Voluntary Controller, Aximili added grimly.

And that's a bad thing? Issetha questioned in a gentle voice.

If it was, would you still be in my head?

No, laughed the Yeerk. No, leefachir, I suppose I wouldn't.

That same evening, two days before his schedules return to the Fleet, Aximili travelled out to the small river by the edge of his family's premises. Issetha could survive a long time on Kandrona injections, but lack of exercise did to Yeerks what it did to everyone else. It caused restlessness, and apathy, and an almost constant sleepiness. The Yeerk needed a swim; not a feeding, but a swim. So Aximili, despite the risks, had brought her to the river and set up the force field to secure a small, makeshift pool, into which he tossed the Kandrona disk he had hid nearby so long ago.

He did not know how many opportunities – if any – there would be for Issetha to swim once on the Intrepid.

Issetha was right, he thought, as she exited his ear and he lowered her into the enclosed area of the river. It does have a nice ring to it.

For once he was not nervous as Issetha fed. He pranced about on the grass by the side of the river, before settling to graze for a moment, and then suddenly spinning about and going through a few practice drills with his tail-blade, before returning to grazing. All along, he kept his stalks on the patch of river where Issetha would surface when she was done swimming. His thoughts were drifting, still busy exploring – or planning to explore – his new ship.

He felt like a child with a new hologram-emitter, and the thought made him laugh. He spun about on a back hoof and galloped a few leaps, just for the fun of it. He stopped, twirled elegantly to the left and advanced forwards, led by his flashing tail. Then he settled to graze again, pawing at the ground and mentally grimacing as he digested a flower which was a bit bitter.

He walked over to a flower-free patch of grass, and just then his stalks caught sight of Issetha, surfacing in the middle of the make-shift pool. He wondered how he would be able to arrange a pool on the Intrepid. He was already facing the river, so he walked calmly towards it, into the cool water, and up to the pool, where the water reached his waist. He wondered how he could gather enough water for a pool on the Intrepid – without raising suspicions.

He dismissed the problems for later, gently scooping up the Yeerk, brushing some water from her skin, and began lifting her up to his ear.

Aximili-kala, what are you doing..?

At his father's question, he almost dropped the Yeerk again. His stalks turned back, to see Noorlin standing only ten meters from the riverbank, in plain view, and surely seeing him just as plainly.

His father had spoken in open thought-speech. Aximili felt Issetha slip out between his fingers and fall back into the river with a barely perceptible splash. He tried to move, tried to speak, but found that his muscles would not obey him.

Noorlin was frowning, with both confusion, surprise, and the odd flash of fury visible in his dark eyes. Was that a…

Aximili did not reply – Noorlin did not continue. His frown deepened, worry beamed from his stalks, and he looked about. He saw the makeshift pool – not the force field, perhaps, but the square of river where the water was unmoving. The water was clear, so he surely saw the glimmer of metal down at the river's bottom – the Kandrona disk.

But worst of all, he saw Aximili's stalk following a small, grey shape that was being carried by the current downriver, wriggling to keep close to the bank and to not be brought away too quickly.

Noorlin's shoulders slumped in sudden defeat. His expression was broken as he sighed, lowering his gaze towards the ground, and turned to walk away, not even a stalk glancing in Aximili's direction. But as if seeing his son's sudden movement, and the way he was planning to speak, Noorlin held up a hand. No, he gritted. Not a word. I do not want to hear a single word.

Aximili did not dare speak after that. He blinked in confusion, bewilderment at what just had happened, and stared after his father for some time. Then he remembered Issetha, still being carried helplessly away by the current, and now the distance between them was growing dangerous. He leapt out of the water, sprinted alongside the riverbank, watching the bobbing grey shape further down the river. By the time he caught up with the Yeerk he was breathless, having forgotten to breathe as he ran. He leapt into the water, caught Issetha's small shape with nimble fingers and lifted her out of the water.

Without a word he held her to his ear, and she had not even finished crawling in as she asked; Aximili, what happened…

The turmoil of images that met her in the Andalite's head silenced her. The previous few moments were dancing wildly in his mind, so disorganized that it took her a while to sort them out.

Aximili's father, appearing as if out of thin air by the riverside.

His questions.

His beaten, defeated expression.

Aximili shivered, threw himself out of the river and up on land. He stumbled over his own hooves as he landed, but was at once back up. Before he knew what he was doing he was galloping away, as quickly as his hooves would carry him, wherever they would carry him.

Exhaustion forced him to slow from his mad gallop. He kept stumbling along at a trot for a while longer, but by the third time he fell to his knees he came to his senses and slowed to a walk, something within him still driving him away, as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. Issetha was silent in his head. His own thoughts had retreated long ago, and all he knew was the way he had to keep placing one hoof in front of the other, and again, and again, and whenever he tripped and fell he would climb back up and restart the procedure, until the next time he fell.

As his senses returned to him he stopped walking and looked around. He had had absolutely no plans of where to head, but he was oddly enough unsurprised at where he had ended up. He was five hour's travel away from the scoop, even further away from the river, at the edge of his family's vast premises. There lay a small forest of marvut trees where he had played as a child – when he had been allowed to go so far, that is. The trees still bore the marks of his early attempts at tail-fighting; as well as Elfangor's deeper, more precise cuts as his older brother had tried to teach him how it was done.

He stopped in the centre glade, closing his eyes and listening to the martuv voices; the sound of the wind rustling their leaves, echoing the memories of what they once had felt and heard.

Elfangor's presence is strong today, remarked Issetha – lowly, as if she was afraid speaking any louder would send her host fleeing again.

Yes. Aximili kept silent for a moment. His muscles ached dully. One of his front knees was swollen and ached more than just dully. Memories of his brother flooded into his mind, both from his own mind and from the weakly projected emotions of the martuv trees.

Elfangor, where was he? the trees wanted to know. But how did you tell a tree, a tree with the innocent, uncomprehending mind of a young child, that someone was dead? Elfangor, who had seen as much if not more battle than Aximili himself. Elfangor, his elder brother, who had…

The irony of fate was cruel. Aximili felt his face twist with grief, and cried to the trees around him; Oh Elfangor, what would you have done in my place?

The trees gave no reply; their unfocused mental sendings were appalled by his sudden despair, reminding him of how happy, how eager he had been in his youth, and how he had talked to them and practiced his tail-strikes on their thick bark… never hurting them, no, certainly not… could he not be happy again, rustled the trees merrily. Could he not practice his strikes, and talk to them?

When Aximili did not move, and said nothing, the martuv trees quietened, softly whispering of Elfangor and of the times he had come to them and been unhappy.

Aximili sank deep into his mind, where only he and Issetha existed, and wished his brother had been there to help him. Elfangor, who had loved a human, would have understood – not approved, but perhaps understood.

After a few hours, and still lacking an answer, Aximili fell asleep.

Wake, leefachir.

Aximili at once knew who was speaking; more from the emptiness in his head and some instinct than by the words, although there was only one person who would ever call him by that word.

Issetha?

An Andalite, sitting on her side beside him, nodded, looking slightly nervous from the way her stalks twitched. For some reason she reminded Aximili very much of Estrid, except for the tilt of her chin and the more refined stalks.

Aximili realised he was lying on the ground, despite having fallen asleep standing. Issetha must have moved him in his sleep to be able to leave his head.

And morph Andalite. But… how?

He raised a hand in wonder to the side of her face, trying to figure out if it was reality or only a dream. The troubles of the evening before were forgotten; the marvut trees were whispering to and shushing at each other somewhere beyond the borders of his attention.

The Yeerk's face was real enough to touch. Her eyes fluttered closed as he drew his fingers down the side of her face, and down her throat. He was still awed at the shape she had taken.

A strange knot lay heavy in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Issetha… he repeated thickly. How?

Issetha drew a long, slow breath. I simply took the different DNA:s – from Estrid and that female on the transport – directly from your blood, and performed a Frolis Manoeuvre.

A Frolis Manoeuver?! erupted the Andalite, scrambling up to sit, placing both hands on the sides of her face and staring at her, as if making certain she was unharmed.

She lay her own hands over his, stroking his fingers as she answered; Yes.

Doing a Frolis Maneuver can be very dangerous without the proper training – began Aximili…

…but was interrupted; You did it – the first time you morphed human. You had no training.

At least I held the theoretical knowledge of… and there he stopped speaking, frowning, realising what he was saying.

Yes, said Issetha smugly. You did. It was very helpful. Her tail reached forwards, the cold blade touching his tail-blade, and then – more daring – the side of his neck. When she saw that he did not move back, not afraid that she would harm him, trusting her that far and further, she smiled.

But Aximili barely noticed; he was still frowning. One moment. You made me acquire Andalites?

They will never know.

I will. The shame will be in my hearts –

Quit talking of shame, Aximili, for you are a Controller, and according to you yourself there is no greater shame.

Aximili pondered that for a moment, and Issetha watched him, now reading his face instead of his thoughts. His eyes darkened as he remembered his father, and the events of the previous day. His expression grew closed, and then purposefully expressionless, as he forced the memories away. He glanced up at her, with a barely visible frown, thinking of the shape she usually held.

And he laughed merrily, making an uncertain smile creep into the Yeerk's four Andalite eyes as well.

Issetha, the greatest shame has been dealt me. Nothing can surpass it. The laugh had faded, replaced by a sombre gentleness as he gazed into her eyes. And that is a strange sort of relief, to be truthful.

He took her hands and shuffled towards her, awkward as any Andalite sitting on the ground. No matter, he murmured, drawing her towards him… so close that he could wrap his stalks around hers, gently, but very purposefully. For two hours, you are Andalite.

Again, not quite able to remove the awe from his eyes, he traced the lines of her face with the trembling fingers and thumb of one hand. You are Andalite… and beautiful.

Leefachir?

Yes?

I have only one question.

What is it?

Exactly how good memories to marvut trees have?

Not until late in the afternoon did Aximili turn back towards his scoop, with a heavy set of hearts, wondering what he would find – how he would be met. The expression on his father's face from the day before was vividly clear to him, set before his inner eye and refusing to go away.

Still, he had no choice but to return. He had one night left at home before he would be leaving, rejoining the Fleet. If he was ever to face his father again – and he had to, before he returned to the Fleet, if only to see if Noorlin would report him. The idea of fleeing was ever-present in his mind, but he dismissed it again and again; fleeing was foolish. The homeless on the Andalite Home World seldom lasted long before some authority or another captured them. He had no intentions of being hunted by hovercraft steered by those who thought he might be trouble – or, if his father reported what he had seen, chased by fighters steered by those who knew he was trouble.

But that was not all he was considering. He was pondering a change, a permanent change, from the lifestyle he and Issetha had adopted. He was thinking about how their lives could turn out if Issetha no longer was a Yeerk. If she had her own body. If she could, permanently, become more than simply a voice in the back of his head. The thought was tempting – like a mirage of a pond in a desert, doomed to fail when you came too close.

For of course there were problems.

She had an Andalite morph, yes, but even with an Andalite morph, it would be impossible to live as an Andalite – impossible to create an Andalite identity. Andalite society – with their strict rules of how many children each family was allowed to have – kept a very close record of all Andalite individuals, carefully registering their name, descent, DNA, and personal history. Creating an identity and background would be impossible, and at the first encounter with any officials that identity would be questioned, and revealed as a fake. And what then?

Pretend that Issetha had been human?

Possible, yes, but it would not help much. That might just keep them free from being sentenced to death, both of them, which was the likely outcome if they figured out she had been Yeerk. But still, Aximili would be sent to prison, probably for life, charged with helping someone impersonate Andalite, and Issetha… who knew?

No – it would be easier to create a human identity, as much as it would hurt him to give up his four dependable hooves, his tail-blade, his stalks. But if Elfangor managed it, so could he.

As the sun was beginning to set, Aximili was still wavering, on the verge of making a decision, when he reached the river.

The Kandrona was gone from the river's bottom, and the force field had been removed; also the force field projector was gone. Aximili searched for them for a moment, but then – at Issetha's murmur – gave up and let it be. He sighed and left the river, starting back towards the scoop.

Just as he had finished shaking the water from his legs, his stalks caught sight of his father. Noorlin was coming towards him, grimfaced and his tail proudly raised behind him. The mere sight made Aximili lower his own tail and stalks, standing very still.

Noorlin stopped ten paces away, scrutinizing his son, making Aximili want to squirm away, or break the uncomfortable silence. He dared to do neither, and stood where he was until Noorlin spoke. I do not know what I saw yesterday, Aximili-kala, he said, ever so softly, in private thought-speech despite no-one else being nearby.

Father, it was –

No, Noorlin interrupted, and Aximili silenced. No. I do not want your explanations – whether they are the truth or lies, I do not want to hear them. He looked the younger Andalite straight in the eyes, and Aximili's heart was stung to see more frailty on Noorlin's face than he had ever seen before, or had ever believed there could be.

If… Aximili began, but then he felt his voice fade and again he silenced.

Noorlin's tail twitched, slightly. I honestly do not care what you were doing. If you meant this family harm, we would have been harmed by now. If you meant the Fleet harm – for whatever reasons, and I imagine you could easily have plenty, for what they planned to do to Earth – that, too, would have been obvious by now.

You have grown past my influence – past my authority. I do not feel I can… Noorlin's eyes flickered in a grimace, …control you. Not as when you were a child. Still… I trust you. I trust you because you are my son, and I cannot help but trust you. And I trust you because I have no choice.

His father's expression grew distant. Aximili tried to think of something to say, but he could not summon any words.

I hope I did not see what I thought I saw, Noorlin said finally. I trust I did not see what I thought I saw – because I trust you. I place all of my hearts in this hope. But hope is a fickle thing… as is trust. He shook off the distant expression, and glanced at his son: the judging, evaluating look from Aximili's youth back in his eyes, and now it had a steely edge to it. A warning edge. A dangerous edge, which in a moment melted into despair before it returned, sharpened by Noorlin's unyielding willpower. If I saw what I hope I did not see… then I am only keeping that secret out of concern for your mother. I will not see her so upset.

He lowered his tail, very elegantly, very slowly: it was symbolic. And if I am wrong to trust you, Aximili-kala, and I saw what I hope I did not, and you are planning to betray us, then I ask only one thing of you. Do not let your mother suffer. Kill her in her sleep.

Aximili, pale as a winter morning, could not even answer. His hearts were breaking, his mind was in chaos, protests were forming in every trembling corner of his body, threatening to make him explode, or simply crumble… and yet, he knew that whatever he said would make no difference. Issetha, in the back of his mind, was as quiet and still as she ever had been, but radiating sorrow.

We will speak no more of this, Noorlin said with finality.

Aximili replied in a voice that was no more than a whisper. Yes, Father.

No further words were exchanged between Aximili and his father on that subject – and no words concerning anything else. Aximili returned to not daring to look his father in the eye, and this time Issetha did nothing to alter the behaviour. She was uncomfortably silent in the back of his head – as uncomfortably silent as Aximili was in the presence of his father, who was plainly keeping watch over him. He never raised his tail, and when he spoke he never raised his voice: there was no threat in his gestures, nothing rebuking in his tone, no fear in his eyes.

Aximili did not know if he preferred that, or if he would have preferred being confronted.

Then there was the matter of Forlay. It took the perceptive female no more than an hour to realise that something she did not know about had occurred – something troubling. At first she was patient, and waited for either her husband or her son to speak up, but neither spoke to either her or the other. That entire evening, she waited. During the morning after, the morning Aximili was due to leave with his ship, her patience reached an abrupt end.

She tormented both of them with questions. Mildly, at first; leading the conversation and forcing them to speak to each other, hoping to catch something from their dialogue. But when the transport arrived on their lands to fetch Aximili and bring him to the space port, Forlay exploded.

What is the matter with you two? she raged. You say nothing. You act as if I cannot possibly notice! You damn, proud males, you're not the only ones with minds, have you forgotten that?!

Noorlin blinked, and frowned disapprovingly, although – with guests present – he was pleased that his wife had enough sense to use private thought-speech. Aximili rearranged the straps of his rucksack on his shoulders and found a spot on the ground on which to fix his gaze. The two warriors who were coming out of the transport caught sight of Forlay's expression and kept their distance. The Prince, three steps ahead of the two warriors, strode boldly forwards to inform Aximili that it was time to board the transport; but at a murderous glare from one of Forlay's stalks, he stopped and dared come no closer.

Prince-captain Aximili… he began, but his voice was drowned in Forlay's continuing rant.

– and how dare you keep things from me. Noorlin? Noorlin! The male flinched, turning a stalk-eye towards the usually mild Forlay, who now was glaring intently at him. His wife was seldom angered, but those who knew her had learned to take her anger seriously. Do not even try to ignore me, or you'll regret it.

Have you considered the possibility that –

It might be for my own good? finished Forlay in a dangerous voice, and Noorlin wisely silenced, his thoughts carefully erased from his face. Aximili wondered what would happen if he turned and ran – Issetha advised against it. His mother took a deep breath, and her stalks glared at the three warriors closer to the transport, perhaps reminded of their presence. I demand an explanation, she growled, her tail twitching again. From which of you, I do not care, but before you leave, Aximili, I will have one!

Noorlin might have been cut out of stone. He was perfectly still, perfectly expressionless, perfectly silent. Forlay looked like she might put her blade in him – her tail was still twitching behind her – but then something flashed across her expression: the realisation that it would do little good. She knew her husband, and she knew when he came to borders he would not cross. Most likely, she could have cut his limbs from his body, bit by bit, and the stubborn old warrior would not utter a word.

She spun instead towards her son, and with a short glance at his father, Aximili understood that it was his turn to say something. By some twist of fate, and even without Issetha's guidance, he at once knew what to say.

A… very close friend, he whispered, trying to keep an insistent tremble out of his voice, once asked me; what would my parents say? At the time, I refused to ponder the question, and avoided answering it. I couldn't answer it. He paused, staring at the ground for a moment longer before looking up. But now, Mother, I shall give my reply; if you knew… you would wish me dead. And that is all I can say.

Without another word, Aximili spun around and trotted determinably towards the waiting transport – the Prince gave him a relieved look and followed.

Noorlin and Forlay watched for a moment as the transport rose into the air and began disappearing towards the horizon, but then turned back towards the scoop. Forlay, taken aback by Aximili's words, snuck her tail-blade up to touch her husband's, feeling the need for comfort as much as she knew he did.

Our son has grown away from us, Noorlin said, something dazed and distant in his usually forceful voice. He does not trust us with his secrets.

Forlay shuddered. Her anger had faded. She was not yet sure what had replaced it. He hides something, that much is clear. Elfangor… She fought to keep her thought-speech steady at the mention of her lost son, her eldest. But when she continued her voice was still lowered. They are so… similar, at everything, it is almost like seeing a ghost. Elfangor also hid something. And Elfangor… died.

The two exchanged a look, Forlay sad and Noorlin grim, each knowing almost by instinct what thoughts traversed the other's mind without having to use any unnecessary words.

Forlay was careful to keep the sudden grief away from her face. Her pride would not allow it. But then grief overpowered pride, and she turned to Noorlin. Without a word he stepped up to her and placed both arms around her, leaning his chin against her head, letting her cling to him. His soothing, wordless thought-speech drone filled her head, driving away any thoughts of the fate of her first-born, and what may yet happen to the second.

It was probably just as well that Forlay did not know she had seen her son for the last time.


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Author's Note;

*looks longingly at song lyrics at the top* Wonderful, those lines are. Perfectly wonderful.

Did you read the end of chapter four? No? Ah, well, it's not the end of the world.

Not much to say this time. Next chapter is finished. It's about Aximili on his new ship, and an aristh who runs one errand too many… It'll be up soon. I hope. Write a review for this one while you're waiting. Good reader.