18 About an Animorph alone
- - -
Menderash was so exhausted that he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the ground. The others had been able to morph, and continue as wolves or some other tireless animal, but Menderash had been forced to run, all through the long Dina'amm night.
Jake had offered to have someone morph horse – or Tobias could morph Andalite – so he could ride for a while, and rest, but the very idea seemed ludicrous to the former Andalite, who had backed down the offer at once. By morning, when it was time to find shelter for the day, he had regretted that decision. More than once.
Not that he would ever admit it.
While Menderash slept the others sat down for a quick meal. Fortunately, Kelbrid food did not need preparing, which evaded the unavoidable question of who would have to cook – or more properly, whose cooking the others would have to eat. Jeanne helped Rachel feed Tom, while Marco, glaring at the kii-raja, sourly grumbled something about "unfair".
To Jake's surprise, when they had finished eating, all three Kelbrid lay down on the ground, curled up in the Kelbrid manner and prepared to sleep. Soon, Rachel did the same. None of them seemed even aware of the fact that the Touched – or the Yeerks – could find and try to kill or capture them any moment. They needed a guard. It was bright daylight!
"Rachel?" he said. "Shouldn't someone keep an eye out for enemies?"
Rachel did not reply, comfortably rolled up in a blanket, but Jeanne yawned and stretched, turning her face towards him. "Tom will watch us," she told him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She was lying, curled up like Rachel, next to the big four-legged alien, who sat alertly in the shade of a tree. Rachel was on Tom's other side.
"Wrong," Marco muttered. "That thing might watch you and Rachel, but he wouldn't care if anyone came along and cut me open in my sleep."
"Of course he wouldn't," Rachel murmured. "Fact is, who would? Stay awake and keep guard if that makes you happy, Jake. Personally, I'm going to sleep while I can."
Jake glanced up at Tobias, sitting on a tree-branch above them.
«I'll warn you if I see or hear something,» Tobias said. «But other than that, I think I'll follow Rachel's advice and sleep.»
Jake sighed. "Marco? Santorelli? How about splitting the watch between us?"
Marco nodded.
"I'll take first watch," Santorelli volunteered, sitting up again.
"Wake me for second," Jake said. "Marco, you're last. I'll wake you when it's your turn."
With that, he lay down to sleep, trying not to be bothered by the bright light of Dina'amm's large, orange-red sun.
- - -
Carali looked around frantically, wondering if it would be wiser to morph his wounds away or to keep them – and his tail.
His stalks caught a glimmer of movement amongst the trees. He spun to face it, in time to see a large, golden quadruped come out. It had a mouth – with sharp teeth – and was holding Carali's shredder between its jaws. The knife-like claws on its paws were coated with Andalite blood.
It dropped the shredder and snarled. Carali took note of the spikes along its back; and the tail, with a blade that might not rival his own, but well matched that of his little brother back home.
Strange to think of little Antin then.
He tried to gather himself, calm his racing mind, and took a careful step back. «I mean no harm…» he began.
Then another alien appeared. This one walked on two legs, had feet equipped with gigantic claws, and a long spiked tail behind him. He had two arms, stubby but still sharp wrist blades, and ears on short stalks, that for some reason were clearly leaning outwards.
The slits on his cheeks opened and closed with his breaths. His pupils gleamed an intense green. And over his head whipped two long, nasty-looking horns.
It was easy to tell who was the master. The quadruped sat down at a gesture from the horned being, and Carali redirected his thought-speech.
«Look, I don't know who you are, but I'm sorry if…»
"Andalite," the creature spat, so shrilly that the word was barely recognizable.
Carali blinked rapidly, surprised. «Yes,» he agreed. «Andalite. And who are you?»
The creature hissed something indecipherable and raised a hand. His golden companion snapped to attention, glaring at Carali, preparing to charge.
Then a brilliant beam of green shot past the two-legged and almost struck Carali instead.
«Damn shredder!» a familiar voice growled. Carali heard the soft thumps of hooves, a single leap, and a blue shape appeared next to – slightly behind – the creature.
There was the distinct swoop of a tail and the cracks and whooshes of the creature's living horns. The golden beast snarled again, but this time uncertainly.
When Carali's mind caught up with events it was to see Larynia standing where the creature had been, her tail-blade buried deep in the alien's chest – and his horns wrapped solidly around her, one around her neck, shoulder and arms, and one around her tail. The creature hung limply, and Larynia was straining to stay up with the unaccustomed – and obviously heavy – weight.
«Well, don't just stand there! Help me loose!»
- - -
When Arayah awoke, Langur was standing guard outside the force field, watching her as her eyes flickered open.
«She's awake,» he announced calmly out over the ship.
Her first reaction was to the shackles. The shackles made her think she was back on the Blade ship. Back a prisoner. She paled, tried to fly up to her hooves, but without her tail to balance her, she fell back to the floor and pulled, still on pure reaction, back into the corner. Her stalks darted around, as she tried to localize herself. Then, the tension let go of her body – just as the force of the One's orders again gripped her mind.
She closed her eyes and convinced herself that she really was trapped; no way she could harm Langur on the other side of a force field; no way she could kill him, weapon-less, with hands and tail tied.
It eased the order. But she knew the One would disapprove, and the same searing pain she had experienced when she almost pulled her Prince free now made her gasp for breath, feeling as if she would choke on her own lungs.
«Arayah?» Langur said. «Are you unwell?»
The One would not want her to reply.
So screw him, a voice of defiance spat.
She forced a nod, not able to form any thought-speech.
A flash of pain, as if a tail-blade had cut right into her hearts, and her lungs had exploded. Her eyes, still closed, burned in their sockets and when she breathed the air felt like a ball of sandpaper going down her throat.
«What is going on?» Jakari asked when he came out on the bridge, closely followed by Rafatal and Arifur.
«She's acting strange,» Langur reported.
«Strange?» Jakari echoed. «She almost killed us! And you're saying 'strange'!»
«Which leads us back to the main question,» Rafatal said softly. «Arayah? Why?»
Arayah was silent, still trying to breathe, waiting for the pain in her chest to ease. The question was barely heard. Or heard; but not noticed, or maybe not even understood.
«Arayah-Althasa-Neferia! Answer the question, and that is an order!» Rafatal thundered.
Her eyes flashed open. The intense green glow in them made the three warriors draw back. She stared menacingly at Rafatal and he felt as if she could see straight into his mind, through his soul.
«The Chosen will take no orders from you, Andalite,» she snapped.
«Chosen?» Arifur repeated, and as he and the others had never heard that term, did not know what it applied to, their faces were in surprise for some time before they switched to anger. «What's gotten into you, Arayah?»
A wicked smile, with her madly glowing eyes. Her tail twitched in its shackle. «Wouldn't you like to know.»
Suddenly her manner flashed. The green glow died out, the arrogant pose collapsed and her head fell forwards with a sharp gasp for air.
No matter how the four warriors tried to persuade her, she refused to speak again.
- - -
As soon as the sun began to set Rachel and the Kelbrid urged the group to continue. Nothing and no-one had disturbed their rest, although the forest around them was eerily quiet; as if it had a secret it would not share.
Menderash was – as the typical Andalite – stubborn and proud enough to back down help once again, although the weariness began to show on his face, his eyes sinking back and his movements more and more done on automatic. Marco, who once might have joked about it and teased him until he gave in and accepted help, pretended that he had not noticed. Jeanne was the only one who reacted, glancing now and then at the former Andalite, making sure he did not fall too far behind – but now she was wise enough to avoid offering help.
Sira'aki and JaLa'an set a high pace that day as well, keeping the group between a half-jogging walk and a speedy run. They advised Tobias to keep below the trees, which he did, but he soon grew tired of the draftless air, and skipping from branch to branch, always wondering in the dark if that next shadow was a branch or not.
At midnight they stopped to rest again. Aside from slowing down to demorph and remorph every two hours, it was the only relief they had from the eternal running.
Tobias morphed Andalite when they set off again. Menderash made big eyes at the sight of him, as he had morphed Ax, and was an exact copy. The Andalite clearly disapproved, but kept what he thought to himself – for once. He remembered what the reaction had been the last time he had voiced an opinion. But through the rest of the night he sent jealous glances at Tobias; that the hawk had four legs and a bladed tail probably felt like a slap in the face for Menderash, for he himself would never again be Andalite.
By sunup, though, Menderash was too tired to care. He almost fell to the ground, and lay there, breathing, trying to regain some lost energy by rest. Jeanne and Sira'aki, both with a touch of fussiness in them, made sure he ate and drank before they let him fall asleep.
Rachel, the other human to walk and run on foot for two days, was in better shape. She was sitting with KEdi'ir, trying to teach Marco the complicated rules of, as the Kelbrid elegantly called their favourite game, garih. The word for "stone". One of the few – if not the only – word Marco had learned to pronounce properly.
Jeanne was bored. Tom was needed to help Rachel play, the Kelbrid did not understand a word she said, Menderash slept, Santorelli and Jake were discussing tactics, and Tobias was in human morph, sitting next to Rachel, with an arm around her and wearing a slightly dreamy expression as she leaned comfortably against his shoulder. Jeanne was therefore left alone to figure out something to do.
It did not take that long. After two days of running, sleeping on the ground, morphing, running, morphing again and running some more, she was generally a mess. She was, shortly said, filthy.
Conclusion; it was time for a bath. She remembered that they had passed a small spring on their way. It was not far from camp, out of sight from curious eyes, and hopefully safe.
But when she began morphing to leave camp Jake stopped her.
"Where are you going?"
"To take a bath," she replied, turning to meet his gaze with half-human eyes.
The Animorph leader shook his head. "Not alone, you're not."
"What? With whom, then? Sira'aki and Rachel are both busy, and don't for a moment think I'm bringing anyone else."
"Although Marco would volunteer, that's for sure," Jake murmured, troubled.
Jeanne patted his arm with a smile, careful about her just-formed claws. «Don't worry,» she said, sinking down to all four. «I'll stay within thought-speech range. I'll be careful. Just make sure Marco stays put.»
Before he could protest any further, she had swivelled around and disappeared in amongst the trees. She was in panther morph; a morph which blended perfectly into the many shadows of the early morning.
Jake sighed. The sun had just begun to rise. It had been a long night, but it would be just as long a day, because this close to the Blade ship they could not afford to let their guard down for a moment.
- - -
Larynia glared so sharply at Carali that he jolted forwards. He tried to cut the horns with his blade, only to find that it was like trying to cut through a wall. He did not dare swipe with more force than he already had, afraid that his blade might overshoot and cut right into Larynia's throat.
Although as the female kept glaring fiercely, as if it all was somehow his fault, the thought actually began to appeal to him.
He even tried to rip the coils open with his weak hands. When that failed he attacked the horns with his tail again. His blade slipped on the hard surface and Carali stopped it just millimetres from cutting into the other aristh's chin.
Larynia at that point had paled a bit, which made her extremely… encouraging. «Just don't cut me open, or I'll chop your stalks off!»
Carali took a step back, annoyed, and deliberately turned his back to her. «Well, you're certainly the essence of gratitude! So do it yourself.»
It was only after trying that – again and again and a few extra times – and then attempting to run despite the tangle of horns and the limp, heavy alien hanging from her that the foolishly stubborn female actually admitted that she might need his help.
And might have to ask for it pleasantly, too, horrid thought as it was.
When the horns were finally removed, her mood had cooled down just enough for it to be bearable. She scrambled very quickly away from the dead alien, yanking her tail free and hurriedly sweeping the blood off on the pastel-coloured grass. Carali's eyes almost widened in surprise when he noticed that her blade was trembling.
«We better get back to the Phantom,» she said, all of a sudden that normal, cold expression back and her tail had stopped quivering. «Minalea went back earlier to make sure Olana put the Phantom on high alert. Two of these things tried to overpower us, further in among the trees, and I'm telling you this; you don't want to be caught unaware. They seem to have slow reflexes when unprepared, though. Lucky for us.»
Carali decided not to comment that. Sure, the thing had not reacted quickly enough to avoid Larynia's tail, even with the warning of that shredder-beam, but the horns had been fast enough to wrap around her in the time it took for the creature to die from a blade in his chest.
Slow. Yeah, right. When planets thought-spoke.
Carali's stalks swivelled uncomfortably. The horned creature was on the ground, now motionless and no longer a threat. But the gold-coloured, four-legged beast had soundlessly disappeared among the trees.
Probably to fetch reinforcements.
The shredder was still lying where it had been dropped. He caught it on his blade and threw it up to catch in his hand, lifting a hoof nervously. Leaving sounded like a good idea.
- - -
Jeanne did not stay in thought-speech range. The spring was further away than she had thought. When she found it, she gratefully hunched down by the gold-coloured water and drank her fill. After that she demorphed, focusing extra on excluding her morphing suit, stepping out gradually into the water as she did so.
When she was fully human she leaned back, lifted her feet up and lay floating on the surface, a content smile on her face. For a moment she managed to forget where she was, why she was there; and the dangers that could appear at any time.
But it came back to her in a flash and she put her feet back down, straining both ears and eyes to make sure no-one was around. She found nothing, and sank back into the water with a sigh, closing her eyes and accusing herself of being overly paranoid.
The next time she opened them and stood up, she came face to face with the gleaming green eyes of a Kelbrid Touched.
- - -
The records.
The secret records of the Animorphs. Cassie looked down at the stack of notebooks, loose papers and collections of scrap paper, all put in some sort of strange order to form their story.
It was the story of her life. It seemed the war was the only life she had lived. Cassie was able to move on from the war; perhaps she as the only member of the Animorphs had survived in all senses of the word; physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally.
But right then she felt like crying.
The last notes were on top. They were just blank pieces of paper, really. Representing Rachel. Rachel should have written the last entry. None of them had had the heart to attempt writing anything in her place.
Rachel should have been alive. Cassie felt a jolt of fresh pain in her heart; her best friend was gone, gone forever, and that should not have had to happen. When she thought it over, there were a lot of shouldn't:s. One for each of them.
Rachel shouldn't be dead.
Tobias shouldn't have run away.
Jake shouldn't have let the events of the war haunt him when it was all over.
Ax shouldn't have disappeared.
Marco shouldn't… Marco shouldn't have followed the others to find Ax, leaving her alone.
Alone. She shouldn't be alone. The Animorphs belonged together; they were, unavoidably, a group with strong ties. Cassie knew that. Thinking about being alone, alone as long as she lived, never seeing any of them again, hurt. It hurt badly; as bad as knowing she would never see Rachel again.
She sat down to take a better look at the notes. She searched for a specific text… and found herself staring at it, her own untidy scrawl – written in a rush, when she had been very stressed, for more reasons than one.
It was barely readable, but she finally translated it and read it over and over again.
It was from the time she had left the Animorphs. So long ago, so faint, it might as well have been another world. She had learned her lesson then; she was in the war too deep to even hope out. She was tied to the group with too strong bonds to ever dream of breaking free.
But now she was. Free. She could, theoretically, forget the others and never think about them again. Go on with her life. It would be easy. So easy.
Then why was she shaking from the mere thought?
They have no use for you where you are, here on Earth, cynicism laughed at her. They're probably doing fine without you. They might even be better off without you.
But a part of her knew she did not mean that. Didn't want that.
She had been asked to stay behind. Although it felt like she had been brutally pushed out.
She felt the tears welling up in her eyes.
"Cassie?"
Cassie looked up and saw Ronnie peering back at her, worried. Toby towered beside him, her Hork-Bajir neck curved as she stared down at the Animorph.
Cassie covered the stack of notes again, sealed them back into the bag they were stored in, and stood up.
"You okay?" Ronnie asked. When she did not reply, he sighed, came past the bag and silently lay his arms around her. She closed her eyes, nodding, slipping her own arms around his waist.
"Digging in old memories won't help you," Toby said sensibly.
She knew Toby was right. Partly.
The seer glanced down at the bag. "If you miss them, you should go to them," she continued softly.
Ronnie sent a glare at the Hork-Bajir and turned Cassie firmly away from the notes of her past to lead her out of the cave. She had hid the records in that cave, deep in the Hork-Bajir territory, because she could not bear having them near her. So she had asked Toby and the Hork-Bajir to keep an eye on them. But over the last week or so she had come to realise that she could not bear to be away from them, either.
"Let's get some sleep," Ronnie said. "It's been a long day. Especially for you."
Cassie followed Ronnie back to their tent, and Toby disappeared back to her own duties.
All day had been spent flying back to the valley, on her osprey wings. She had escaped the hundreds of officials who wanted to make sure she was "safe" from further attempts on her life, escaped their tries to escort her into a high-security plane and escort that plane with half a dozen military jets. A waste of time and money, she thought. So she had simply declined, morphed, and flown away.
Little they could do to stop her. Fortunately.
But because of the heavy flying she was tired. So now she curled up in her sleeping bag she made an honest attempt to fall asleep.
But someone must have glued her eyes open. Given her a shot of caffeine. She did not sleep all night. She lay awake, thinking, remembering and hoping. She remembered the surging feeling in her stomach when she had said goodbye to Jake.
She had known that she would never see him again.
Unless she did something about it.
By morning, she had made her decision.
Cassie the Animorph would be alone no more.
- - -
Jeanne sat perfectly still, intently watching the Kelbrid Touched. She was unsure of how much time had passed since she'd first seen those shining green eyes watching her, from the other shore of the spring, but they were still watching, not looking away, not even blinking.
She had morphed to panther – remaining in the relative safety of the water, she was unsure if Kelbrid could swim or not – and still the Touched had not shift her (it was a female, Jeanne knew; there were no spikes on her tail) unsettling gaze.
She had even tried attacking, but leaping directly out of the deep water slowed her down and the Touched had wrapped a horn around a branch above and swung herself up to safety.
Jeanne had noticed earlier that same day that the bark of the trees on Dina'amm was too soft, too rubber-like, to allow her panther claws to get a good enough grip to support her weight. She just left long scars in the bark and found herself back on the ground. Having given that up, she had backed away from the tree to her enemy could not drop straight down on her, and sat down to watch and wait from a distance.
Finally, puzzled that her enemy made no attempts to attack her, kill her, or even fetch help or sound any sort of alarm, Jeanne had demorphed – into her morphing suit, this time, of course. But still the Touched did not move.
She did not dare leave, or even turn her back to the Touched. She did not dare return to the others, as she refused to lead the enemy straight to them. And as she had could not leave, and had by then realised that neither would the Touched, there was only one option left.
Wait. Wait until help arrived, until someone came to look for her.
Or until someone came to look for the Touched.