Note: I'm back!

ss4rycol: as i said before, one of the best, and it continues to be so.

One of the best? Thank you.

rockergurl13: this was sweet, can't wait 4 more. oh, she still doesn't remember Elfangor right?

Well, thank you. Nope, no Elfangor. A pity, really.

Elwing: It's nice to see Tobias happy. And about the proposal? It seemed a little sudden. But a good chapter nevertheless.

By the way, I have checked out Pants on Fire, your latest fic, and I have reviewed for it. It is very decent, so update on it. Will you make places for review responses on that fic like you do here?

And, er, uh, did you forget to respond to my review for the last chapter?

Anyway, I noticed, that Loren isn't addressed as Mother. So Tobias still feels a little tension and uncertainty?

The proposal seemed sudden because I neglected to write about how their relationship had developed and grown through the years. There is still a little uneasiness for Tobias. Sorry about the review!

LucreziaNoin86: Girly squeal That was wonderful!. Bounces around living room where computer is located. YAY! Thank You!

Well, thank you. I trust that the girly squeal was perfectly appropriate at the time and you enjoyed the activity very much, as was the aforementioned bouncing. Hmm, it IS pretty easy to talk like Ax, isn't it?

Ty: Yay! Happy endings for everyone!

I believe you have spoken too soon. Sorry.

Early: At first I thought this chapter was far too rapid, but the last line about a fiancee and Mother in one night tied it all up neatly. Sometimes you NEED those dramatic one-liners I suppose.

This is not a memorable chapter, but it's well composed and I guess EVERY chapter can't be the pivotal one. So... do we get to see the honeymoon, eh? Aw, come on! Give us all a little taste of the R/T action.

And BTW: Letterman sucks. Although he's the only late-night personality that KA ever mentions. I mean, why can't the Animorphs ever be on Conan? What he's not good enough! (pants from the rage-wave)

You know what? I love dramatic one-liners. As long as they are appropriate, of course. You have struck a Late-Night nerve. I love Conan! I watched Letterman once or twice but never really enjoyed it. Conan on the other hand, his show is very funny. I can even do the wire dance, the one where he cuts it and slumps forward. Classic. Just classic.

LilManiac: (stares) wow... cool!
i love how you've written this chapter! so sweet... so... so...
Well, im speechless.
And everyone who knows me... well, ask Midgett...
yawoza!

Really? Speechless? Then I have done my good deed for the day.

Edriss: Again a really great chap. I feel so stupid if someone proposed to me on live TV. Please this was great keep it up.

That would be embarrassing indeed. I notice that you have over a hundred reviews on your story now. Congratulations!

Jake

"This is Alpha Two-Two-Seven, unidentified aircraft please identify."

Complete radio silence. I glanced at the radar, confirming that the target was still nearby. Gently I eased the controls down to come at the same altitude as the other aircraft. When I was low enough, I upped the speed to just past Mach 1 and pulled alongside the other aircraft. It looked vaguely familiar. I looked at the other pilot and repeated the command.

TSSEEEWW!

"I've been hit! Uhh…Alpha Two-Two-Seven…is ejecting." I pushed the right button, but felt nothing. At the same time, the video projections on the simulator cockpit disappeared, revealing a short, aging man with thick glasses and a cane.

"You failed."

I sighed and removed the helmet. I didn't look forward to Mr. Cran's scolding. A tough old man, expert in Modern-age Aviation Technology and Tactics, he ran the training facility on an unnamed island off the coast of North Carolina.

I can still remember the first time I met him, shortly after Rachel's and Tobias's wedding almost two years ago. I walked in late with my shirt untucked and face unshaven. He had briskly stepped to me and thanked for saving the world. Yeah, those were his words. Then he hit my left shin with his cane. After I yelped, he warned me never to come late again. Then he hit the other leg for looking sloppy at work.

"I'm sorry, but…"

"No buts!" He peered at the other pilots and workers, then slowly turned his head back to me. He took two steps, until his five feet and three inches was nearly under my chin. "Never make excuses. Admit your failure, accept your losses, and start thinking about what you can improve." Mr. Cran then clicked his cane against the simulator and turned away. "Words to live by, kid."

I followed him down the hallway between the simulator room and the main lobby. "Alright, I admit that I should have exercised more caution. I accept that I need to spend twenty more hours in the simulator. So next time that situation arises, I will contact base before I approach a potentially hostile aircraft."

He stopped next to the front desk and stared at me. Then he smiled. "Like hell you will." He laughed and punched my card out. "See you tomorrow, kid."

"Goodbye, Mr. Cran." I left the cool lobby into the steaming hot forest that is Carolina, starting my half mile walk to the airport. Twelve sweaty minutes later I reached the bus service, where a welcoming committee was gathered. After the usual security business a man in an expensive suit strided to me and extended his hand. It was shaking a little, so I decided to break the ice. Grabbing him in a great bear hug, I told him that it is the Animorph custom.

"That's how we always greet friends. You are a friend, right?" Rapidly assuring me that he was indeed friendly he quickly and nervously opened his briefcase. Inside were several charts and graphs.

"As you can see Mr. Berenson, the…"

A security guard cut in. "Sir, you'll have to come with us."

The man agreed, and went to gather his things. When I realized that there was nothing more I turned to get on the bus. I was almost aboard when a guard tackled me and, nearly the same moment, I heard a gunshot.

The pain! Floods of memories came back to me as the man ran into the jungle yelling something about evil aliens. A Hork-Bajir, claw marks oozing blood. A Taxxons screech, a tiger's roar. Visser One, monologueing. Rachel yelling, Ax whipping his tail, Cassie weeping, Marco wisecracking, Tobias apologizing. A tiger commanding a circus. A tiger, leaping off the back of the first Visser One. A tiger, a tiger.

A tiger. And then the world went blank.

-

When I woke up it was night. The sky was clear and I could see miles in any direction, but my nose told me that it was night. I immediately jumped to my hands. Hands? No, no, paws. I could see whiskers and a snout in my vision. I had unconsciously morphed a tiger.

I turned to a guard. (How long have I been out.)

"Just a few minutes, sir. Do you need help?"

(I'll be fine.) With that I leapt to the suited mans briefcase, which he had left behind. I bent down to sniff it. When I looked up, there was a bright neon yellow path leading into the forest. (Bingo.)

Pat-pat. Pat-pat. As I bounded through the underbrush I let the tiger take command. I let the hunter do what he is good at. Tree after tree, fern after fern, I quickly closed the gap. Soon I heard heavy breathing. I slowed down and pushed past a thicket of flowers. There walked the man who shot me. Then he stumbled.

The tiger subconsciously tensed. Weak. Food. Kill. I shook away the tiger's instincts. I coiled my leg muscles and leapt! Soaring through the air, I knocked the crazy guy over and swatted away his gun. I did a small pounce and landed on his chest, pinning him down.

I tried to think of something not cheesy to say. Instead the guy just passed out. I did a little tiger shrug and began to drag him back to base.

Arriving minutes later, I noticed a police car and an ambulance waiting. But it wasn't until after I demorphed that I noticed the Andalite fighter in a nearby hangar.

Before I could ask any questions, two Andalites galloped to my side and motioned for us to walk and talk.

(I am Prince Caysath-Winwall-Esgarrouth, and this F. O. Menderash-Postill-Fastill of the Hunter.)

"The Hunter? Isn't that-"

(Indeed sir. I served under Captain-Prince Aximili on our Dome Ship.)

"Served? As in, past tense?"

The Andalites fidgeted. (Yes. I…we…don't know where the Captain-Prince is. He's missing. I am the only survivor of the tragedy of the A.D.S. Hunter.)