Chapter 2

"He's alive," Marco concluded with firm conviction. "Whoever put that in your pocket wanted to make sure that we knew."

"That seems logical," Menderash opined.

Tobias had returned, and though he tried to appear nonchalant by preening his feathers, his silence was telling. The only reason he had agreed to come along in the first place was to rescue his shorm – his close friend. We all had doubts that Ax would still be alive, but just enough hope to find out. Now, apparently, we had.

We had seen him. He was a distorted image, a formation of a strange being that referred to itself as The One. That was no clear indication in itself of whether Ax was alive, rather that he may have been irreversibly assimilated into the unknown entity.

Why would we be returned so close to home with a cutting of his hair? It was no accident. It was what we were trying to figure out as we sat amongst the rocks beside the alien container.

"'Ram the blade ship'… That was the last thing I heard," Jeanne recalled, sitting on a large rock with her elbows rested upon her knees. She looked at me. "And that was you."

"That's the last I recall," Santorelli agreed.

I nodded, pursing my lips and turning my eyes to the ground. "So we're clear: We all blanked at the same time, just after we saw this… thing."

"The One Who Is Many," Marco retorted, pulling out the words as if he were some grand old wizard reading from a tome.

((Must you do that?)) Tobias grumbled. It was the first he had spoken for a few minutes.

"Just trying to keep our spirits up. Geez…"

"And that was in December 2005," I continued. "So assuming Earth is as it should be, we can travel back home to find out how long we've been gone."

"And shave this shit," Santorelli replied, rubbing at his light-brown beard.

Marco smiled and raised his arms in faux joy. "Can't wait! We go home to shave and make sure we're in the right decade."

((I swear to god, Marco….)) Tobias said.

Marco ignored his groaning and then took on a more serious tone. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm keeping this for a very specific reason." He pointed at his overgrown hair.

Menderash was quick to follow his logic. "It would seem like a good idea. Now that we are back on Earth, we will likely need to remain anonymous. A different outer appearance would be wise."

The realization dawned on us all, and nothing needed explaining between the team. We had begun the mission under the apprehension that we might not make it back. We had stolen two vessels to make the journey: One Andalite ship and one Yeerk ship under Andalite possession.

I asked Menderash, "How severe is our crime?"

He stared with weary, deep brown eyes. "Severe. We would not walk as free Humans. My own punishment would be worse, as I would likely be seen as a traitor to my people."

"This just gets better and better," Marco sighed, getting up off of the sandbank he had been sitting on and walking off to the side.

I responded to Menderash after a brief consideration of his role. "Menderash, does the Andalite military know that you are a nothlit? Do they know you're Human?"

He shook his head and dropped his chin into a resting hand. "No. Only Prince Caysath knows, and he has vowed silence on the matter. However, it will be noted that I am missing along with the rest of the Intrepid's crew."

"But they don't know your Human appearance."

"No, Prince Jake."

I took note of it, stored it in my memory. "Jeanne. Sarge. You, too?"

"Same story," Santorelli replied. Jeanne nodded.

Except that they were not in an entirely new body. They were more likely to be associated with us. "Okay. We remain incognito until we figure out what we do next."

"Next?!" Marco turned on his spot. "What do you mean next? What the hell are we going to do?!"

"We can't go back, that's for sure," I explained.

He looked conflicted. He knew I was right. "Well… Well, what? Are we going to sit around in the desert until The One Who Is Many comes back for seconds?"

Menderash stood up, seemingly receiving a hidden message that Marco didn't express the same dedication that he held. "We will find a way to bring Prince Aximili back to Andalite Space."

Marco did not back down and moved in closer to Menderash. "Okay, Mister First Officer. Explain how. Enlighten me."

Menderash glared at Marco but came up with no answer. Santorelli had since risen, standing just between the two, just in case things got heated, which seemed ever more likely as the climate grew hotter around us.

"I thought so," Marco huffed, waving a hand dismissively. He turned to look at me. "We have nothing. How long would it take to find that freak again? Without a ship."

I took the packet of Ax's fur in my hand, lifting it to show him. Then I threw it forward, and he caught it. "I don't know, Marco. Not yet. But somebody out there wants us to try."

He fell silent, but he was expressionless as he took a closer look at his old friend's hair. His arm dropped to his side, as did his gaze.

He was acting erratically. It was scary to see him bounce between joking and sarcastic to confrontational and downright pessimistic. Something wasn't right at all.

I looked past him to Tobias. He was sitting alone on a discarded, rotted piece of fencing that lay on the ground. His preening had ended, curiosity in the conversation taking over. He would remain silent unless prompted, so I spoke up. "Tobias?"

His hawk eyes turned away, and he ruffled his feathers before speaking. ((I'm already anonymous enough. I don't need a beard.))

"It's so hard to tell you apart from all those other talking birds," Marco teased. I was relieved to see the slightest of smirks on his face, hidden away behind the hair.

Menderash, always so unnecessarily deferential to me despite his respectable rank in the Andalite military, bowed once he'd breached my eye line. "Prince Jake, we will continue?"

"I plan to. We've won with smaller odds," I told him. "And stop calling me Prince."

Marco pushed the packet of hair into his loose right-hand pocket. "I never liked my TV show, anyway. So cheesy."

I smiled at him, happy to see him still on my side. "What about that girl? The model?"

He shrugged. I could see the reluctance in his stance, but I also saw the Marco I used to know in the days of the war, somewhere behind the debris. "I always said models were overrated."

((No, you didn't,)) Tobias corrected.

"Don't spoil the moment," Marco grumbled.

"So where do we go to?" Jeanne asked. I looked from her to Santorelli and back, pleased to observe them just as dedicated. Maybe they also saw little hope of returning to a normal life when they left with us on The Rachel. They didn't know Ax but from the tales told of him and various television interviews before he left for the Andalite military.

It was a dedication to me, their tutor. Part of me was worried that I had dragged them into such an irreversible situation, but then I remembered that both were older than me, with vast swathes of experience in professional, integral fields. It was their choice.

"Santa Barbara," I decided. "Home town. So long as we can get back without being noticed, we can make plans there. We'll stop off in a few stores before we get back, buy some new sunglasses, maybe get a haircut."

"Definitely," Marco said. "Can't go back to Santa Barbara looking like we've lost our cardboard box."