Chapter 1

Six Years Earlier

My eyes opened to the cold dark metal that enclosed us. My cheek rested against warm flooring, but it left as I rolled wearily onto my back. Bright sunlight pierced through the cross-grid ceiling that caged us yet provided us with essential air from the outside world.

I groaned, head aching as I tried to lift it. I used weakened arms to push myself up, only to see the ragged old clothes covering my body. The small container held us. All six of us. My first thought was to double-check, to make sure. They, too, were waking up in our new cell.

Tobias was the first to move, quicker to snap to alert in his hawk body. He fluttered over, staring up at me with those piercing eyes. ((Jake, you okay?))

"Yeah," I answered, rubbing over my face to notice the messy beard that hugged my chin. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm fine."

Marco was also exploring his new facial hair, but that was not his biggest interest. "What the hell… What is this?!" he asked to no one but our container.

"It looks like some sort of storage cell," Menderash guessed. He was to my left, the first to his feet. When I noticed his facial hair, too, I realized that something was amiss. We had been gone for some time.

Marco looked at his light-brown, torn clothing. "What is…?" He was lost for words, and I could see him growing more agitated with each passing second.

I got to my feet. An equally unkempt Santorelli had risen as well, investigating the confined space intently. Jeanne remained sitting, watching closely as our emotions began to unfold.

"A storage cell?" Santorelli asked of Menderash, tapping a thick knuckle against the hard metal circular wall. "This look familiar to you?"

Menderash shook his head, a strand of curly black hair falling in front of his eyes that he quickly pulled away. "No. It's certainly not living quarters, though."

"Way too hot for living quarters," I added, gazing up again at the grid ceiling, covering my eyes to protect from the blazing Sun. "We need to get out of this thing."

"Good thinking, Batman," Marco chimed in, a sarcastic tone to his voice. "Then we need to figure out what the hell happened. Last thing I remember…"

He stopped to think and then rubbed at his wetted forehead, looking to the rest of us. He was grasping for help.

((The Blade Ship,)) Tobias said. He had flown to the shaded side of the round container, keeping from the increasing heat.

Santorelli nodded. "Bright light. That's what I remember seein'."

"So we're dead?" Marco said. "If this is heaven, I want my money back."

Jeanne pointed a delicate finger to one side of our claustrophobic capsule, and in a soft French accent, said, "there, look."

We all followed her signal. I was closest, and I ran an overgrown fingernail over an indentation. A gap in the metal formed a perfect circle, wide enough to fit somebody through.

"This is our way out," I said with relief. I turned sideways and barged my shoulder against the metal, but it didn't budge.

Marco was over in an instant, thanking Jeanne as he moved. "A gorgeous French accent and good observation skills. I love it." He kicked at the door and then rushed it with a shoulder. The metal creaked a little. "Damn it! Hold on, give me a minute…"

His hands began to enlarge. Dark fur started to sprout on his wrists, heading up his arms.

Then Santorelli appeared between us, a determined furrow on his brow. "Don't waste your energy, Marco. You might need it."

Marco looked perplexed and narrowed his eyes. "What do you m-"

Santorelli began before Marco had a chance to question. The US Army Ranger reached up and grabbed at the bars that lined the ceiling of our container, pulled his bulky body up with ease, and swung back. With a tremendous thud, he fired his two trunk-like legs at the door as he swung back forward, removing it clean from its frame. It bounced on the ground outside.

A vicious glow filled the container, forcing us all to cover our eyes. With my limited senses, I witnessed Tobias zooming to the outside. We all waited on his report.

((Safe, guys,)) was all he said.

So we emerged. Santorelli dutifully left first, stepping through the circular door and into the open. One by one, we followed. I had hoped that the heat would be more forgiving, but I was saddened to feel it still brutally burrowing at my skin.

My bare feet touched coarse, dry sand. When my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I saw bright blue sky above and the brown-orange of a desert below. There were mountains in the distance and a sparse distribution of plants and small desert trees around us.

I turned back to look at our container. There were no markings or symbols. It was just as bland and soulless on the outside as it was on the inside.

"Tobias?!" Marco called up into the air, wincing in the sunlight.

((Desert, guys,)) he reported back, flying high up ahead. ((As far as I can see. Look familiar?))

It didn't to Jeanne and Menderash, but to me, Santorelli and Marco, it was quite distinct.

"Yucca palms…" Santorelli muttered, taking a closer look at one of the small trees.

Marco nodded, rubbing a hand through his wavy black hair. "Mojave Desert."

"So we're back on Earth," Menderash commented, his own curlier Human hair slicked back with sweat. "How strange. We were so far away. Six months of space travel."

Jeanne added, "and judging by your beard, it took six months to get back."

Marco snorted. "Six months? Jake couldn't grow a beard like that in two years."

I ignored his remark and paused to think. "Menderash, do you have any idea how long it's been?"

He looked up and then shook his head. "No, Prince Jake. I recall nothing after seeing the Blade Ship. It's as if we've been asleep from that point until now."

"Great," Marco huffed. "Just great. You mean we've wasted our time?!"

Everybody fell silent, considering the implications but also not wanting to admit it.

Marco shook his head and exhaled gruffly. "Six months searching through space, only to be lost in the desert?! I threw away everything for this?!"

"We don't know what's happened, Marco," I insisted in a tone intended to calm him. It didn't work, made evident when he kicked angrily at a sandy mound in reply.

"I have a pretty good idea," he argued, crossing his arms over his chest. "We've failed in our suicide mission, and somehow we've ended up in a desert looking like we just crawled out of the gutter."

"We don't know," I repeated. "There must be some reason why we're back here."

"And so close to home," Santorelli added.

Marco looked thoughtful, putting aside his anger for the moment. Menderash, to his left, appeared deeply troubled like he felt he should've known more than he had given. Nobody had any ideas, but we all silently and collectively concluded that it was no coincidence that we were so close to home.

((Ellimist?)) Tobias chimed in. Judging by the lack of reaction from anybody else, I assumed that he had spoken it privately to me.

It couldn't be. The Ellimist would have made himself known, as he had done in the past. It seemed so unlike him to influence our lives without making an appearance to at least one of us. I shook my head subtly, enough for Tobias to see my answer.

I knew it was something I would have to figure out later. I rubbed at my sweat-soaked forehead as the others began to postulate their theories. Marco remained mostly quiet and aside, and I could only imagine the frustration he held.

And Tobias disappeared from everybody's sight. He had been a recluse for years, so it came as no surprise that he'd immediately return to such a state.

Deep in thought, I unfolded my arms and dropped them into the heated pockets of my torn and thin knee-length shorts. Something crumpled against my fingers. It was unfamiliar, and I pulled it up and into my line of vision. The new noise of unfurling plastic material brought everybody to attention. Even Marco put aside his self-pitying to come for a closer look.

Inside the small, transparent bag was a tuft of fur. Blue fur, cut neatly and deliberately. I had my instant suspicions, but I handed the item to Menderash for an expert opinion.

His analysis was quick and decisive. "Andalite hair," he declared. Then he found an opening in the material and placed his nose close to sniff at the cuttings. "Aximili."