5 -not trusting
Cassie found Marco seated at the computer in the study. He was leaned back in his seat, his hands lying forgotten on his lap. He watched the screen. The screensaver was on.
"What are you thinking?"
"That I need to leave," he answered automatically.
"Cody's safe, off with Loren. And I have nothing to fear from you."
Marco shook his head and glanced at her, over his shoulder. His voice was parched like old papyrus. "Not that. It's not that. I simply need to return to the Elŷrrics."
Cassie considered, studying the back of Marco's head. He reached for the computer mouse and the screensaver flickered away. Beneath it was a screen with a single internet window open, a forum of some sort which he at once clicked away, before shutting the computer down. "If you're so afraid of the control the tiara has, and it wishes you to leave, then why are you still here?"
"For now I'm to stay put and wait. Then, when…" He caught his own words, and reformulated whatever he had meant to say into a simple, dry: "Then I go." His second glance at her was quick and frightened. "It's like when I was in the camps. Not just that song and the eternal tempting. It's giving actual orders. And… I'm obeying them."
Cassie quenched a shudder and looked down at the cup in her hands. She stared at it for a long time. "Here," she murmured finally. "I brought you some hot chocolate." She stayed where she was, unmoving, even as she spoke, not even raising her eyes.
Marco stood and came towards her. His fingers were warm as they enclosed her hands and the cup. He lingered there, before he lifted the cup free of her grip. "Thanks," he said. "I could use some chocolate."
"I thought you might," she said through a forced smile. "Chocolate makes people happy. You could use a bit of happiness." She watched him drink. He drained the cup, and gave it back to her.
"Thanks again."
"Ready to come back down?" asked Cassie.
"That Andalite?"
"There's only me and the doctor. Mertil has gone to visit his ship and eat. He was hungry. I offered him the lawn, but he said that Earth's grasses were… an acquired taste."
"Ax never complained," muttered Marco darkly.
"Ax had no choice. Are you coming down or not?"
Marco nodded acquiescence, reaching to touch the tiara's pocket. "Okay then."
They went down the stairs together, side by side. Cassie watched Marco's every move. She watched the way he began wandering off to one side, not fully balanced, as he neared the living room. Hurriedly she placed the empty cup on a passed-by table and put Marco's arm over her shoulders, guiding him towards the sofa. He leaned heavily against her, and finally thumped gracelessly down onto the sofa.
He blinked, sagging with a heavy sigh. His eyelids fluttered closed, until he willed them open. Slowly, shakily, he focused his eyes on Cassie. His face was sleepy more than angered. "What did you do?" he whispered.
Cassie put her hand to his cheek. "You trust me, Marco. Remember that you trust me."
Marco's eyes closed again. "The chocolate."
"Yes."
But Marco was already asleep.
- - -
No more than minutes and a tractor beam later, Mertil was setting up a force field cage around Marco, who was slumped in a corner of the cruiser's oval bridge.
"So who's taking the tiara?" asked Dr Glas nervously.
#Why don't you take it, Animorph?# Mertil suggested to Cassie. #He knows you best. In case he wakes.#
"He'll be asleep for some time," Dr Glas assured them. "Another hour, at least."
#How deeply does he sleep?#
"I didn't dare give him any more than I did. So deeply enough."
#Fortunate,# murmured the Andalite. #Animorph? If you would be so kind?#
Cassie gave a curt nod. She knelt down beside Marco and – and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, by way of apology – as she slipped her hand into his pocket and pulled out the tiara.
At once it was there, singing to her, joyous and welcoming in her head. She retreated quickly from Marco, allowing Mertil to set the force field in place.
She stood outside the force field, looking at the tiara in her hands. The markings on it were definitely glowing, now.
"Cassie?" said a voice.
But the voice was irrelevant. The tiara was humming, winding its alluring song about every strand of thought and consciousness in her head. It was stroking her joys and touching her hopes with gentle fingers. It was promising… simplicity. Happiness. Forgiveness, forgetfulness of any bad memory, any nightmare, any evil. Then there was the image: herself, placing the tiara over her forehead. It was like a dream. A longing.
Yet there was a screaming voice in her mind of minds, telling her that something was wrong.
The tiara hushed softly at it, soothed it into silence. Place the tiara over your forehead, child. Just –
"Cassie, listen to me –" and a hand was reaching for her. Not yet close enough to be a threat. She ignored it, raising the tiara.
#I should take that,# came Mertil's firm voice, washing through her mind and making the tiara's song retreat, pull away to hide as if intimidated. Without another word, the Andalite picked the tiara out of her reverent grip.
Cassie released it willingly. As it left her, the dreams of placing it on her forehead were shattered. Only a small hum in the back of her head remained, a reminding candle's flame compared to standing in the middle of a burning house.
#Oh, the beauty of it,# Mertil admired, turning the tiara over and over in his long-fingered hands. #The simple beauty of it! It speaks.#
"Careful with that," muttered Dr Glas. "Marco said it's dangerous."
#It cannot affect me,# claimed Mertil. His tone was almost giddy, and his four bright eyes stared down at the tiara in his hands intently. #It is as I thought. I am a natural telepath. Whatever this is projecting, I can hear it, but chose to ignore it. Like I can choose to ignore thought-speech from someone I do not care for. Even block it.#
"Is that possible?" asked Cassie.
Mertil blinked at her. #Why of course. Did you never try?#
Cassie shook her head.
"But Marco must have morphed many times, with that tiara," Dr Glas reasoned. "That turned him into a telepath every single time. Why did that not break the tiara's control?"
#Because it had already established a hold on him, presumably,# Mertil explained. #Or, perhaps, because his thought-speech ability was a result of him being in morph, not a natural, stronger ability.#
Dr Glas nodded slowly. "You once told me that they never did figure out why the thought-speech ability traverses to non-Andalites who become morphable. It was built into the technology, but only to travel with an Andalite through morphing… noone had ever expected a non-Andalite to access the technology."
#I did?# Mertil murmured. #Why… yes. Yes of course. I did. Still, I have the tiara well in hand now. And I am certain you agree it best that I, who am not affected by it, handle it.#
Cassie did not know why she acted then. Reason told her it was caution, caution for Mertil's sake, for all their sakes. But then again, reason chose to ignore that inviting candle flame in her head. In any case, she acted: she held out her hand. "You're not affected?" she echoed. "Prove it. Give me the tiara."
Mertil handed it over with a broad Andalite smile. #Do you not trust me, Animorph?#
Cassie made no reply. As soon as the tiara first brushed her fingertips she forgot about the Andalite. She fingered it. It swelled in her hands to span over her temples. Her forehead felt very, very naked, very cold – she longed for the touch of the warm tiara, ached for the feel of that thin band of metal over her skin. Its song was a distant tune now, one she strained to hear better. She would hear it better. All she had to do was raise the tiara to her forehead.
So that was what she did.
A tail-blade struck it out of her grip, faster than her eye could follow.
At first she flared in rage, throwing herself after the tiara… then the fury was gone, and she found a pair of hands closed firmly about her shoulders.
"No, Cassie," ordered Dr Glas. "Bad idea. I don't think you should… touch it any more than you already have."
Cassie drew a deep breath. The flame in the back of her mind had raised its voice from a distant humming to a mothering lullaby.
Mertil daintily tripped towards the tiara, scooped it up with his tail-blade, and caught it in his hands. #Convinced, Animorph?# he wondered amusedly.
"I'm convinced," Dr Glas said, holding firmly on to Cassie's shoulders. He glanced at Marco, still motionless and deeply asleep in his cage. "Marco won't wake for another hour, at least. How about making the most of the time?"
#And return the tiara before he wakes? Of course.#
"So what do you plan to do, Iro?"
#Have my computer analyse this. See if there is any way I can reprogram it.#
"Cassie? Are you okay?"
"It's singing," Cassie told him lowly. She had to concentrate to pay attention to his voice, concentrate more to understand it, even more to care what he was saying and respond. It was like trying to understand what someone was saying on the other side of a thick wall while partially asleep and longing for the return of a favourite dream. "It's singing to me."
Dr Glas looked concerned. He still did not release her. "Perhaps we should get you away from it, then. You shouldn't have touched it at all. Not a second time."
#I will manage on my own,# Mertil assured them coolly. #I imagine you are hungry. Go and eat.#
The music in the back of Cassie's head gave an approving twirl just at that moment. She looked towards the tiara, in Mertil's hand. She felt confused. The tiara… she was of two minds. Not exactly torn between them. Just divided, and swaying back and forth drunkenly. Dr Glas holding onto her shoulders was a good thing, a steady support in a world suddenly flashing from dangerous to appealing and back again. The tiara… no. No. But… the tiara. It sang, it…
Go and eat. The thought drifted through her head, over both parts of her mind. Hunger rumbled in her belly. She had not eaten anything yet that day.
"Eat," she agreed, nodding numbly. "Yes."
Dr Glas sighed. "And put some distance between you and that tiara for an hour or two."
As Cassie passed the doorway of the cruiser, heading out, she only paused to glance back once. She did not glance at Marco, which she thought of as odd. She had intended to. Poor Marco, who trusted her, who because of her trust sat slumped and alone in a cage made of metal and air and a wall of energy harder than stone. But her eyes betrayed her and travelled of their own accord to the tiara in Mertil's hands.
It felt wrong to leave it. Not forbidden – she could shrug the urge aside, with a bit of effort. But she could not dismiss the feeling of wrongness.
Dazed, she had forgotten her eyes' betrayal by the time she reached the house.
