Note: I don't own Animorphs, but I do own Myitt 195. And I'm terrible at author's notes.
A lone Bug fighter cruised at one hundred feet through the warm summer night, slow and silent, unseen by the thousands of people sitting on the grass and on the steps of the library below.
"Computer, reduce speed to hover."
The ship, a small black insect-like thing that was invisible even to those who stared straight up at it, was just that—small and unassuming. It was not much longer than a school bus.
But it was much deadlier.
The people on the ground were laughing and talking and listening to music, unaware of the Dracon cannons poised above them that could incinerate the campus below and a great deal of the even larger city that stood just beyond the glistening river. It would be a spectacle a thousand times more awe-inspiring and terrifying than any F-15 fly-over, or than even the black stealth planes that almost resembled this alien contraption of dark, living metal.
But it was not here to destroy. Although many ships like this one, and ships a thousand times more deadly cruised just as invisibly outside of the range of Earth's radar, in orbit around the planet and hidden around the moon, this single ship was no longer the harbinger of destruction to the people of this strange blue planet.
It, or rather the people in it, were only here to observe.
The ship whirred down softly as its engines produced the continuous propulsion necessary to keep the ship at a silent hover, stopped far above the people below with only a Goodyear blimp and a news helicopter for distant company.
Faint red light from the moon streamed in through the ship's oval windows, like eyes, on either side of the craft—outside of which the city below could clearly be seen. The cabin itself was brightly lit with a series of white, globular ceiling lights.
"Let's see if we can get some music piped in here," said the pilot, a young woman who did not look at all alien, as she leaned over in the scraped-up chair that had been unceremoniously (but securely) screwed into the floor in front of a large control console, and was far too large for her human frame. The chair creaked and protested as she picked up a small radio that sat on the ship's spotless white floor, connected to the underside of the control panel by two luminescent wires, sticking into a black device where the radio's plug should have been. As she turned the device on, one of the wires suddenly produced white sparks that nearly singed her blue jeans.
Don't burn us, Myitt, said a voice inside the woman's head.
"I won't," she muttered aloud. She pulled the wires out gently and let them dangle from the control panel's underside.
It's like a sparkler, said the voice.
"A deadly one," Myitt answered with a dangerous sort of grin.
Oh man...you don't have to remind me, just…find the station already, said the voice tersely.
Alright, I am,Myitt answered inside her head.
Good, said the voice.
Yes.
She adjusted the antenna and turned the tuning dial until she found the station that was projecting the music being played across the river. Classical music began streaming softly into the ship's interior.
That wasn't so bad, now was it? said Myitt.
She gingerly set the radio on the floor and leaned back. On the control panel in front of her, amidst the many dials and navigational equipment, lay a small green cube set firmly into the surface. She reached over and pressed a hand against it, focusing her thoughts. A large, translucent green holoscreen appeared in front of her…them…and immediately began scrolling a list of read-out data along one side in a flowing script.
She reached far over and raised her right hand, pressing it against the screen and dragging it diagonally until a very large rectangle now stood shimmering in front of her face. "Computer," she sighed. An electronic chirr followed. "Commit the selected area to 100 per cent transparency."
There was another chirr and a rectangular window opened right through the front of the ship's hull, suddenly and spectacularly, giving a much better view of the blinking city and the people below.
There, said Myitt, leaning back once more. Best seats in the house.
Thanks for doing this. I…I just wish that--
--your family could be here. Myitt sighed again, inaudibly this time. Do you think they're down there? She leaned onto the control panel, staring straight down at the many people below.
Probably,said the voice wistfully.
You know as well as I do that we can't see them, Tara. Especially now that they've been taken…
All because of us, said the voice, Tara, squarely.
Because of me, Myitt said, guilt seeping through her. But…that's why we're here, isn't it? This…this celebration of your country's freedom, its independence, all of which started right across that river, it…well…we are fighting to get it back, to get your parents back. For the independence of this entire planet from an Empire.
Myitt One-Nine-Five of the Taon Yerralash pool, in all the long years we've known each other I have never known you to wax philosophical. Besides, I didn't think I had enough historical knowledge in my brain for you to care.
But it's true, is it not?
Of course it is. I don't think this holiday will ever be the same for me again, if we live to see the next one.
It was very like how we've been fighting, said Myitt. Outwardly the young woman's eyes tracked blankly as she sifted through memories, through imagery of human wars from deep in a human past. Why shouldn't we care?
Myitt. You're telling me you actually enjoyed AP U.S. History back when I had a life?
You know what I mean. Come on, I'm being serious.
I know…I know,said Tara, asking for control silently and causing her body to lean over once more, scanning the crowd far below. She said nothing for a few minutes, gazing down at them.
"All those people down there," she whispered with her own mouth. "The ones who are free. They don't even know what they have, not really."
On the radio, Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, written about an entirely different fight against oppression and overlaid upon America's own, began.
They will know, when we win, said Myitt. When the Yeerk Empire is crushed and my people see there is a better way.
That's the spirit, said Tara grimly.
Neither of the two friends spoke for a while, listening to the music, images of Russian and French soldiers flickering through Tara's mind, muddied with American and British.
You humans and your patriotism, your insufferable will to continue fighting, over and over again, Myitt mused. It makes you wonderful allies for a rebellion, I can tell you that, she continued with a laugh. But I wonder…not for the first time, if the Empire really took all of that into account, really stopped to think about what that means, when it decided to bring us here.
I seriously doubt it did, said Tara. Unless the Emperor actually is insane.
Well, you are a unique people, and a violent one. All across your planet and throughout your history, in a thousand countries, you have fought far more wars than we Yeerks ever dreamed of starting. More than the Andalites have declared upon other peoples, more times a thousand. It is truly…
Intimidating?
Well, yes.
Tara smiled inwardly. It's why we'll win.
Yes.
Bells rang across the river.
Let's watch the fireworks.