The Assignment

Star Trek – Animorphs

"…to beam up… second biological… position…"

Hummmm. Tickling. Nothing. Heat.

"…welcome aboard."

"Engineer…"

Voices. Lightly. Touch lightly. Caught on the air, the stale air, ears frozen in rest.

"…caught the wee… containment… ordered."

"…leave them… first… immediate medical… second to begin…"

Nothing made sense. Like words. Broken before they started. Like chunks missing. Not the parts missed. But they didn't get all the way in. Something blocking. Mind shut.

No strain. No need. No ability. Just calm.

"…you didn't-"

"…did not. However… reacted with fear… itself to…"

Sound. Not a word. Like realization.

"…alert… medical staff. I… along shortly." Click. "…to Sickbay."

Voices. Buzzing. A soft buzzing, nice sounds. Not like bees. Not angry. Just flies, landing gently. Harmless. Her eyelid twitched at the imagined touch.

Nothing. Then something. Awareness, she supposed. The concept made sense now where it hadn't before. She wasn't sure what was going on. Thinking, hard to do, brought some words back. Like the arms holding her. She was suddenly aware of it. 'Medical'. 'Assistance'. Help. Someone needed help. She was good at that. Medical help. Maybe an animal got hurt. She had to help.

A long sigh was the best she could manage.

The journey, as she'd become aware of movement, did not last that long. Time was the next sense to come back, but it didn't quite feel right. Things happened faster than they should. Like thinking. She'd start at trying to sigh again, forget, and realize the movement had stopped.

As had the background sounds. Lots of people, talking. Walking. Soft footsteps, like on carpet. That word sounded wrong. Carpet. Where did she last see carpet?

Must have been at home. She relaxed into the strong bars of her chair. Her bed. Her resting-spot.

Oh. Arms. Yes, held by arms. She frowned. The movement felt strange on her face. They must be big arms. She wasn't that small. Rachel was an unfair comparison.

The movement, swift and steady, did not bump her at all. A new rush of air blew along her body and the strangest sensation of being ruffled drew Cassie to blink. The light hurt her eyes. She closed them again.

The next voice didn't have the power to startle but she did find herself paying attention. Familiar, in a distant way. Friendly. Annoyed. Distant. Wait. That didn't make sense. But thinking about it made the sleepiness drag her down again. Cassie decided to listen and choose how to react later.

"I'll not have that thing in my medbay, Mr. Spock."

Dry and irritated. Dermatitis. She had cream for that. It might not have the same effect on a throat, though. Maybe the problem was deeper. She giggled to herself, whuffing unexpectedly.

Ugh. Her breath. It smelled like dog food.

"Doctor." From above. The arms. Must be her new friend.

Fresh annoyance, a new rush of words. Practiced and well-spoken, like the speaker had been saying it in front of a mirror. "Did you hear me? I said –"

"I heard you."

A swift change in the air. Cassie wasn't quite sure how she knew about it. A lot of things were starting to bother her.

"Then –"

"The Captain would like to investigate this creature on his return; it requires medical attention." Cool and warm. Level, she supposed, was a better word for it. A tone of familiarity coloured a strict line of words. Orderly.

"Medical –" the rougher voice sputtered and kept on, not paused for a second by his own shock. "- Spock! I'm a doctor, not a veterinarian!"

"If you are not willing…"

"I didn't say – look, not in here. I've got wounded and that thing probably hasn't been screened yet." Quiet from the arms brought a sense of finality to the drawling voice. "The other one's in there, you can take it in. I'll get to it when I can."

Not a movement. No shift. The calm one didn't even consider it.

"Now, Doctor."

"No, not now!" Clatter. Metal. "The lieutenant –"

"Has already suffered through your arcane chanting and bitter herbs. He will not suffer more under the watch of your medical staff."

Every pull of wanting to wake up, to understand, made Cassie sleepier. She wanted to wake up. Wanted to rest. Movement was beyond her; fluttering eyes brought a wave of dizziness, a persistent dull ache over everything. Like a thorny blanket. Like spinning around too much.

Spinning…

"…If you go and interrupt me, one more time…"

But the second voice's displeasure didn't stop Cassie's journey in the arms of her white knight. No. That sounded dumb. She didn't read stuff like that anymore.

She'd call him something else. Her helper. No, her volunteer. No…

Grumbling, thunder contained by the thin barrier of lips.

"You do complain, McCoy."

Yes. McCoy did. And Cassie felt some distant part of her thump in a very un-human way. Like an extra limb. Not right. Shouldn't have another leg. Hmmm. Maybe she hadn't morphed all the way back yet. Maybe she should fix that.

It came easily. The sensation returned with each change. Not painful, as morphing never directly hurt. Just weird – the feeling of bones disappearing, melting and changing into new shapes. Yes. That was a tail. But she could still morph. Must be within the time limit.

The time limit. How much time? A thud in her chest.

And her two companions, they hadn't stopped bickering. They didn't seem to enjoy each other's company, like she enjoyed resting in their arms. Yet neither walked away.

The first voice, her benefactor, waited for a pause in their conversation. "Doctor. I have an enquiry."

"Oh, happy day."

"If you did not prioritise the health of our new guests, why have you placed one of them within one of your workspaces?" A lilt, barely discernible but loud and clear to her current morph's ears, lifted her friend's question into something else. Still asking. But not. Hurt to think. But not completely unaware of the answer. Like it was… rhetorical?

She felt her eyes cross at thinking so hard.

He forged on. "Could you not have transferred it to the Life Sciences laboratory?"

Hesitant. Open. Warmer, freer of the earlier attitude. "…You know me, Spock." Spock. Was that his name? "Might not be human, but that doesn't mean it's not worth saving."

"…Indeed, Doctor."

Whoosh. Air, blowing over them again. That weird feeling. A fluffy featherduster, trailed over skin. New sounds. And scents. Wow. It smelled alive. That couldn't be right.

«…Cassie?»


My name is Tobias. The most relaxed bird on the planet… Maybe more so. I don't remember ever opening my eyes to soft indoor lighting in my field, from a podium instead of perching in a tree.

But as soon as I realized what happened, the faces moving around me started to close the distance.

Caged. A glass box, twice my height but not wide enough to flap without touching the walls. And the moment my eyes blinked open to peer through the perfectly clear glass, the watchers began to pay special attention to me.

Human. Every one of them. Not a hork-bajir, taxxon or loping gedd among them. No security in case a morph-capable warrior tried one of his larger morphs. I was pretty convinced of that with the lack of agonizing torture over the past twenty minutes. Not so much as an empty threat or even a little sub-Yeerk posturing.

But, hey. The night is young.

I should probably tell you why I'm dealing with a hawk brain. And you might be wondering why I'm thinking about torture. Well, it's a long story.

My friends and I, we're kind of a big deal. The secret kind. The Animorphs are the only red line between alien world domination and... well, you know. Freedom. Safety for our families. The others' families. Mine aren't really relevant.

To cut a sorry tale short, we took the shortcut through the abandoned construction site between the mall and home. We met someone. He turned out to be the real thing. Alien life, on other planets. On ours.

And as it turns out, not the first.

Tap tap tap.

A look of curiosity. So out of place on the face of an evil, domineering slug. Young. Gently wrinkled crows' feet in the corners of a slight smile. The man watched me while I looked back. In his hands a chunky black box bleeped under the tip of a nibless pen. Taking notes.

It could be a notepad. Could be a grocery list. How to Cook Earth Birds.

He hunched to see me better, blue sleeves wrinkled over the smooth material of black pants. To look at the freak of nature.

Marco might have remarked on how fitting it was. Finally joining the circus, a freak in a crew of freaks. But I was the biggest abomination of them all, right? Not a boy. Not a hawk. Some kind of amalgamation, a mix of the two, twisted together like a toddler mashing jigsaw pieces where they didn't belong.

They were right to stare. But that didn't mean I liked it.

The tapping stopped. A hand hovered just outside the glass walls, at the height of my beak. Where I'd been testing how strong this 'glass' might be.

Unbelievable.

"TSEEEEEEEEEER!"

Blue-shirt staggered back. A thrill in my chest settled the restless wave under my wings, the need to move. Foot askew, the guy nearly tripped. A hand on his shoulder steadied him.

I puffed up my feathers and glared. It made me look a lot bigger and, bonus, was something a real hawk would do.

A Yeerk wouldn't shoot a random bird out of the sky. A Yeerk would shoot a suspected Andalite Bandit with no witnesses around. Key word being 'suspected'. I had to look like a real bird. Act like one. They'd have no reason to keep a normal hawk around. Right?

Right. So they'd kill me, toss out the useless dead body. Not much better than this, except they wouldn't get any information out of me. I'd die to keep our secrets. Any of us would.

"Hey," the shoulder grip loosened and turned the startled man, "are you alright?"

A woman. Face pinched in concern, her hair perched precariously on her head, blonde and swirled like honey.

Actually, no. Could I get a refund for this ride?

A breathy laugh matched what lay on the outside, the appearance of the young man. He laid a hand on his heart. "Yes, he just gave me a bit of a shock!" His grin widened sheepishly.

"Lively, isn't it?" She smiled as if sharing a secret. Her friend looked in on it, his smile matching her own. "Best not to come too close. That beak looks like it could hurt."

They moved away together. But I could still hear them.

The man replied, hands waving to express the deep relief at not being gored by my talons. "If we avoided danger at every turn, we wouldn't be doing our jobs. I don't think boldness is solely relegated to Command, Sze-Chu."

She hummed in agreement. They wandered off to play with the colourful buttons on a nearby console.

Sze-Chu. I stumbled over the word in my own head. That wasn't a Yeerk name. It sounded human. Just as they looked.

My gaze could pierce steel. This couldn't be right. No. It must be a trick. Right? Humans with laser weapons. Humans who could chase a wolf at peak endurance, catch a red-tailed hawk unawares no matter the time of day. What could this really be?

It couldn't be true. So it must be a lie. Somehow. Unless...

People in possession of new technology, tech undiscovered by the Yeerks. Untouched, unstudied. Unexpected. Not even the Andalites could teleport, if that's what I'd glimpsed on our chase through the jungle. And teleportation? I could only imagine the possibilities.

Jake'd blow a hernia at that news. Then he'd probably try to hug me. Then use it to do something crazy. Rachel would approve.

Not having to use infiltration morphs, avoiding the dangers of becoming tiny, vulnerable bugs or prey. The time we'd had to exfiltrate the pemalite crystal and faced one of the greatest horrors of our lives. The time we'd been trapped on the Pool Ship, facing two vissers who hated each other enough to let us live a little longer.

Other times. Pushing back far enough, I wouldn't be wearing feathers right now if we'd had that kind of advantage.

It could change everything. It had so much potential.

It was too good to be true.

This had to be some kind of trick. But what? What did the Yeerks expect to get from pretending to a couple of Bandits, suspected Bandits, that humanity could achieve this kind of power level on their own? Draw us out, make us believe that we weren't alone?

That we were safe? That could be it.

I'm never safe. And I never will be. A predator's life is dictated by danger. Starvation, disease, injury, they ruled the skies like I ruled my field.

If they wanted to fool me, they'd chosen the wrong Animorph.

I wondered if it was possible to teleport a Yeerk right out of someone's head.

I'd wandered the floor twice. Looked for flaws. Hoped for a weak spot. But the set-up in this room, with the carpeted floors and soft indoor lighting, it matched the pajama party in their primary colours in there with me. The more time to watch my jailors. And I'm good at watching.

The attitude of these people, their manicured hands and styled hair, it screamed human. Particularly the women. Spotless uniforms, down to the hair follicles. Not a crumb of food. With the chowing habits of my friends – and one friend in particular – it looked downright unnatural.

Trust me. I can literally see a fly buzzing across a baseball field. I can count the ugly little hairs on its legs. These people had incredible hygiene.

A glare caught one of them reaching for a silvery tube lying by the glass. He quickly retreated.

Pretty easily intimidated, for Yeerks.

But for Yeerks, they seemed kind of… harmless. Not Yeerk-like at all. I hadn't seen one underling fed to a taxxon. Not a sneer or derogatory comment, no batting at the glass to freak me out.

I know Yeerks. Frail. Useless. Demented, galactic threats to public safety. Targets for my razor talons on a clear day, alongside the team who made for pretty convenient distractions in a fight to help me get close. The metal, if it was metal, clacked under my feet. The blood of the big guy in charge of these peons still coated them.

And now, here I was. Public enemy No.1, doing time for my crimes of helping to fight a secret war against the Yeerks.

A cool draft puffed the feathers up all over my body. I hunched down to conserve heat.

Somehow, air was getting into the chamber. It wasn't big enough to flap up or hover but it wasn't exactly cruel, in the short term. I could breathe. I could see everything.

But one thing I couldn't see, and I tried again, worry beating under the carefully controlled message.

«Cassie. Are you there?» I asked, hoping she could hear me.

And again.

«Cassie. Jake. Rachel?»

Anyone. We couldn't be totally alone. There could be backup. Ax could leap in right now, graceful and in perfect sync with his tail blade. Slicing, whapping the weaponless humans out cold, cutting into the buttons and electronics. Chopping a hole for me to fly out of.

«Marco? Ax, come on, man,» I said for the tenth time.

But nothing. And the people walking to and fro, the ones watching me and waving little salt shakers in the air, they weren't what I'd call good company.

Attentiveness to the hawk. It reminded me of Cassie, actually. Of her parents. Like they wanted to study me. Well, maybe not exactly like Cassie – she cared more about helping than finding out what made me tick.

A hawk takes things as they come. The ultimate realist. What matters? Food. Survival. Hunt. Kill. Eat.

Confines aren't comfortable, by any means. But clear walls? To the hawk, it was good as sitting on my branch, overlooking the meadow. My meadow. At least for the moment.

So there I was. Smarting in feather and pride.

Getting shot out of the sky is kind of a big no-no in bird society. Only the slowest, the dumbest fly low enough to humans to be shot down. Ducks. Geese. Various 'food' fowl. The occasional endangered bald eagle. Funnily enough, red-tailed hawks aren't shot at much compared to the showy eagles.

Another thing I wouldn't have to worry about, living as the most endangered species in the universe.

Numero uno. Pandas have nothing on me.

Whooooosh.

A door. Equipment behind it. Walking in, two new faces, one of them so odd that I recognized him from the group we'd escaped from earlier. I immediately didn't care about them.

In the arms of the taller, odder one, he cradled a wolf. A wolf whose paws were melting right out where everyone could see them. My heart skipped a beat.

«Cassie?» I said, stunned.

It had to have been her. The same markings. The same wolf we'd all acquired, back in the day. Well. Not me, I guess. But I'd flown over the group in those morphs, over and over again. I'd seen Cassie in that form rip out the throat of a hork-bajir warrior. I knew it was her.

And that was the problem. Even as I watched her legs flowed, suddenly boneless, long tubes of fleshy hair that flopped against the legs of the guy holding her.

She was morphing. Right in front of them.

Bang! I fell back from the glass. A few eyes turned to me. Yes. Alright.

I squared up again and attacked. It hurt, something in my chest knifed sharp with pain. I did it again. "TSEEEER!"

«CASSIE! Wake up!» I broadcast as loudly as I could in her direction.

The drooping wolf barely twitched. However, the arms holding her tightened. It couldn't be missed, not with these eyes, this close. But it didn't matter. She had to stop! If Cassie demorphed, right here, in front of everyone...!

The glass reverberated under my wings. «Cassie, stop! Stop demorphing! Stop! You have to stay wolf! You have to-»

«To...bias...?»

The voice slurred. An image of the sunset, a beach, drifted by. It's a strange thing, thought-speech. If you think about it, no pun intended, you can tell a lot about someone by talking directly mind-to-mind. What I saw in the bleary response didn't calm me down.

Schloop.

Human fingers. Human fingers, where pawpads should be. Strange. Illogical. The weirdness of morphing. I stared as if I could laser them off by the power of hawk vision.

No-one noticed. Cassie, yes, it was definitely her, lay on a bed raised off the ground. A lot more carefully than I'd have expected. Without a perch to get higher and see better, all I could do was flap hard and work with hops to get the occasional look. And if that wasn't suspicious...

She'd heard me, though.

«Cassie, stop demorphing. We can't let them know that we're human,» I begged.

«Stop... Human...» she sighed.

One of the two men that had walked in with her paused. He was looking at her legs.

As I watched, horrified, the fur on her forelegs sucked back into normal, brown skin. Human skin. She wasn't stopping. Cassie didn't understand.

Voices around her. She wasn't tied down. If she could wake up, maybe, maybe she could escape. This room didn't have locks on the doors, unless they were keyed to certain people. Unless a Gleet Bio-Filter sat behind the futuristic whooshing door.

The more alert man reached down. To touch her. A dumbfounded look on his face, intrigue as his fingers ran up the bare arm, a golden ring glinting from his hand.

Cassie's tail began to shrink.

It burst out of me. I couldn't think. Couldn't let the raptor part of me take control, react like a bird.

React like a bird. React. Yes.

"TSEEEEEEEEEEEER!"

I went crazy.

Flapping. Some loose feathers, knocked by wings against glass, littered the bottom of the cage. I struck the walls. The ceiling. Which I noticed, now as I bounced down to push up for another go, capped under the top of a machine. Like the ends of a soda can. Plugged on the top and bottom.

Maddened as a horsefly, I buzzed in every direction. Screeched like a banshee.

But soon, quickly, I couldn't keep up the desperate beat-down on the walls and settled to rest. Rapid, 202-beats-per-minute, a throb against breastbone as I panted and waited for my heart to calm down.

Every one of them, the blue-shirts, two in red, the ones hovering over Cassie, they all wobbled like Jell-O. Reacted to me. Like a field of grass in an unexpected squall. Some knocked against each other. A vial of something fell and splattered from an unwary hand.

A whirl. The gaze of the odd man almost matched mine. Darker. Not so intense.

But the deadly intelligence there reminded me of the time I'd gone up against sharks and almost lost.

What struck me second was that I definitely knew him from somewhere. My head cocked to the side even as I panted, beak open.

Black bowl cut. Hooked nose. Fearsome eyebrows. Whoo, eyebrows of a champion. They didn't completely point in the right direction. It kind of reminded me of the cartoons I'd watch the few times my uncle didn't have the remote. When he slept in after a promising evening of more drinking.

Yeah. It stirred some kind of memory. Something Jake and Marco'd talk about. For hours.

And were those pointed ears?

No lying to a hawk, I guess. But weird. So, so weird.

But behind him, the other one, he cared more about the malforming wolf than about me. I couldn't stop him from reaching down, touching her furry side, two fingers going to the heavy ruff of her neck.

She had to be alive. The dead can't morph. And with a faint grinding sound, pointed teeth boiled down to flat molars.

This was it. This was the end. They'd see it. And there's nothing I could do to stop it.