4 – consequences
As Marco had suspected, answers to his questions did not come easily from the mourning Animorph. What responses she even gave were seldom related to what he had asked.
Finally, he managed to wrangle a name and a somewhat coherent story out of her. But Marco soon came to think that any memory Cassie had of the time after she and Ronnie had been attacked, was at least half as jumbled and confused as her way of explaining them.
During that attack, she had lost consciousness, and found herself in some sort of hospital, where they had kept her for some time. She had mentioned a room with a locked door, making Marco frown and wonder what sort of place that "hospital" really had been.
Her child, her Tanya, had been missing, even then. They had tried to make her forget...
And that was where the name appeared: Dr Robert Glas. Apparently he had been in charge of Cassie's care at the hospital. Her mental care; she did not mention anything about suffering any wounds. He had told her that her daughter did not exist. When she insisted, cried and begged, they had kept her in the hospital. How long, she did not say. When they had moved her back to her own house, he had no way of knowing.
What he knew was anger. Seething, burning, blinding fury.
How dare they? Did they think they could treat an Animorph however they wished, keep her locked up, take her child from her, put her on medicines to keep her docile? Did they think, with him and the others gone and surely dead, there would be no-one to avenge it?
They had forgotten two basic things: firstly, Animorphs do not die easily. And secondly, they look after their own.
Now, one had returned.
And whoever had mistreated Cassie, and Tanya, would pay.
In blood.
Jake would have been ripping out throats with his tiger teeth if he had heard about this. Perhaps, he would not even have spared the time to morph, and have done so with his human teeth.
Marco almost felt like doing the same. His shoulders tingled, tense, wishing him into his gorilla morph, wishing him to be stronger and capable of causing more damage. The nimbler and quicker wolf, which had been put to much use against the Kelbrid, made him long for the taste of blood in his mouth. He licked his lips and felt like growling.
He focused his anger on this Dr Glas. He seemed to be some sort of therapist, and when she mentioned him Cassie's eyes lit up with loathing, strong and simple and pure: the first emotion aside from grief Marco had seen in them since his arrival, and it was not an unwelcome change.
Well, if Cassie despised this therapist, shrink, or whatever he was, then so would Marco.
Marco's course of action was already set out for him: first and foremost, he would steal Cassie's daughter back for her. He could not imagine any reasons for Cassie to be a bad mother, and no such reasons for the child to have been taken. He could imagine plenty of conspiracies against Cassie which would end in her child being taken. The child of an Animorph would be a valuable thing indeed.
He only hoped that Tanya was still on Earth. That would simplify things. But he was more than willing to leave Earth again. At the time, he was disgusted with it, disgusted with the situation that had met him at his homecoming.
His only valid clue so far was Dr Robert Glas.
Finding Dr Glas proved difficult. Cassie was of no help. Marco snuck back to Cassie's house, and searched the place, but found nothing aside from the doctor's phone number, on a list beside the phone, in the kitchen. A phone number did not help him much. He was in no mood for talking, and suspected that beginning to ask pointed questions or utter threats over a phone would cause Dr Glas to discreetly disappear.
Finally, he returned to his craft. Cassie was lying on her bed, having hardly moved since he had left her. When he came closer, she sat up, watching him, and finally asked: "Did you find anything?"
"No," he told her. "It would be easier if you came back with me... you know the place. You're sure you don't know..."
Cassie shook her head, refusing to look at him and meet his searching gaze.
"It's only a wolf-morph away..." Marco tried.
"I can't morph," whispered Cassie suddenly, heartbrokenly, "I can't. I can't. I can't... morph. I... can't..." She buried her face in her hands and her muffled voice was lost. Sobs began shaking her.
Marco hurriedly sat down beside her and put his arms around her, his chin on the top of her head. "Oh, Cassie, what have they done to you?"
He stared at the wall in front of him and longed for the taste of blood.
Finally, Marco resorted to using the Tenkharian shuttle craft's computer. With it, he could access the internet, and finding Dr Glas there was simple.
Dr Glas, as it turned out, was a well-respected psychologist. He had written several highly acclaimed works, concerning mostlydepressions, delusions, and aggression. He no longer worked regularly – probably being too wealthy to bother – but did partake in several research projects. In his biography, Marco could read that he was 42 years old, widowed during the invasion of Earth, when he had been made a non-voluntary host to a sub-Visser. This contact with extra terrestrials had led to his interest in and studies on the new field xenopsychology (psychology of aliens), and he was considered a pioneer and expert in the field. He had also specialised in the changes in the psyche suffered by a morphable.
Morphable.
Marco did not feel any need to read more. He muttered and cursed beneath his breath as he hacked his way into the FBI files and found Dr Glas's current residence, as well as the necessary information on his security systems. It appeared advanced, but to Marco – who had been dealing with much more advanced technology while fighting the Kelbrid, it would be child's play. Especially for a morphable.
He pondered for a moment introducing this expert to the mind-warping technology he had encountered among the Elŷrrians, amidst their slave camps. He found himself fingering the silver tiara in his pocket, considering it, and realising that now it might come of use. If he placed it on this doctor's forehead...
Sudden horror filled him at the thought – his spine turned to ice. How could he think anything like that?
The damn tiara. The damn, cursed, wretched silvery thing in his pocket, that was how. He forced fury to replace the horror. Horror was weak: fury would protect him.
No.
He took a deep breath, and reinforced the thought.
No.
Whatever this Dr Glas had done, Marco would not use the Elŷrric tiara against him. He could not use the tiara – he had no control over it, could not wield it. It controlled itself, and its wearer, and bent that wearer to the will of the Elŷrrians.
It would punish the doctor. It would make him miserable, hurt him and crush his mind, it would –
Marco gritted his teeth and searched for a core of anger. The tiara's song was echoing in the back of his head, tempting and alluring. He ignored it – or tried to. He delved deeper into his anger: he would not use the tiara against the doctor.
No, repeated his mind, and suddenly everything fell into place, the prodding thoughts of using the tiara faded, calmed, and left him alone. No, of course he would not. The tiara would never end up on the forehead of Dr Robert Glas... for Marco wanted it for himself.
He needed it.
If only he had been able to destroy it.
"Marco," came Cassie's soft call from the living quarters.
Marco left his computer, glad for the interruption of his thoughts, and hurried back to join Cassie.
She was seated with her chin on her knees and her arms around her legs, her back to the wall. Her manner was that of someone trying to hide in a corner.
Marco sat down on the same bed, cross-legged, facing her. He was glad to note that she did not pull away – she looked like she might have.
"Did you find him?" she asked.
"Yep. No problem. Are you sure he knows where Tanya is?"
"I don't know," murmured Cassie, lost. "I don't... know. But..." she drew a quivering breath, and with that breath gained some sliver of courage "...he should know where she is. He has to know. He took her. Marco?"
"Yes?"
"How... how could they... take my child?"
"I don't know," Marco said, wishing there was some way to dull the pain in Cassie's eyes. He reached out to awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder. "But we'll get her back."
"Will we?"
Marco felt the anger glimmer in his expression, and smiled grimly. "Of course we will."
Cassie stared palely at the wall beyond Marco's shoulder. She might as well have forgotten he was there, until she spoke again: "Everybody's left me."
"I won't," Marco assured her.
She turned to look at him, pleading, as if she had not heard him speak. "You'll help me... you'll help me take back Tanya?"
"I will."
"When?"
"Now," Marco told her. "Get some rest. Or... are you hungry?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued: "I'll bring you some meat, and some water. That should last you for awhile. I'll bring us to Dr Glas's home. Then I'll disable the alarm, and we'll go in to confront the doctor."
Almost listlessly, Cassie nodded.
Marco leaned forwards to kiss her forehead. "It'll be okay, Cass," he promised. "I'm here now. And we're both Animorphs. We stick together. You've saved my behind too many times for me to count, so I'll take care of you now."
He left Cassie where he had found her, sitting in the same way. He brought her food and drink and made sure she ate and drank. She did so without any trouble – apparently hunger was still a more powerful force than grief. After eating, Cassie soon fell asleep.
Marco thought that to be for the best – he had once heard that sleep could serve as a defence against depressions. Careful not to disturb his sleeping companion, he tip-toed out to the consoles of his stolen Tenkharian craft, beginning to ready it for the flight to Dr Glas's residence.
He flew in silence, thinking. Cassie was a mother. It was a thought he had some difficulty to understand. Last he had seen her, she had been about to turn twenty. He still saw her as too young to be a mother. But it had been years since then, he reminded himself, and apparently Cassie had gone through a lot. He had, too.
Cassie was a mother. The father was dead. The father was not Jake. That was something Marco grimaced at. Jake was always "just about to call her". He had apparently been too late. He wondered what Jake's reaction would have been, had he come home and found Cassie like this.
Jake would have helped Cassie without blinking, Marco knew at once. And if that had led to a reunion between the two, Jake would have treated Tanya as nothing less than his own child.
Jake, though, was dead.
Marco missed him. He had survived a long time now without the guidance of Jake's instincts, and had learned to trust to his own. No – not to his instincts. He had trusted to his spontaneous reactions. They had, so far, served him well enough. He had survived, and even managed to find his way home. Despite Kelbrid and Lhosh and Ag'e'urnee and Elŷrrics.
As the Tenkharian shuttle craft descended onto a field not far from Dr Glas's compound, Marco hoped that his spontaneous reactions would continue to serve him.
