The Assignment

Star Trek – Animorphs

Cassie here.

I stared. The stranger stared back.

A room suited to a hospital more than for holding prisoners. Off-white and blue carpet, lights at a comfortable level, cushioned beds. Cushions. My senses flooded back in that unusually slow transformation back to girl. Numbness in my fingertips rolled them together, rubbing each pad one by one between opposite thumb and forefinger.

Lying below what could be the most sympathetic Yeerk in the universe. For a slug, he had a great bedside manner.

Drafty breath preceded a southern drawl, the man's face arranged in a strange, sunny blankness. "Oh, well. I suppose we aren't one of those, if they don't have friends." He glanced behind him. The tendons stood out in hyperextension. I looked away. "Right, Spock?"

Spock. I'd heard that name before. He must have been the set of arms, if anything from the past ten minutes could be believed.

A quiet that lasted long enough to tense both of us up. Lean muscle beneath bare, hairy arms raised as the man lifted his eyes to the ceiling. So like a casually frustrated friend of mine. So human.

"My apologies," he continued, peeking up from having his chin on his chest. "My friend over there is likely too fascinated to give a damn. Now, I need to make sure you've got all your extra - bits - in the right place. Mind if I... take a little look?"

My tongue flopped and I paused.

Friends.

Tobias. Where was Tobias? I'd heard... That wasn't a dream, was it?

Red lights bathed us pink, the shadows hiding little but revealing nothing at all. Of course, he could be too small to see. I shifted on the flat table. The skin of my legs rubbed on the black surface with a squeak.

«Cassie?»

Tobias!

Cold relief must have shown. The friendly-apparent man moved in to take my hand. His grip moved down to my wrist. I shuddered but he didn't let go, encircling the tiny bones to tap each one while muttering under his breath.

The palpations continued up to my shoulder. I stared past the blue nylon of his outfit and tried to ignore the familiarity of it all.

«Cassie,» he said more urgently. Then, «Right, you demorphed. If you're awake, make another noise. I can't see past tall, pale and creepy.»

Squeak.

I flushed, face warm, at the stranger's quick glance. His secret smile told me what he thought of mysterious high-pitched sounds. Hey, Yeerks have a sense of humour. This awful day just kept surprising me.

To the collarbone. He politely avoided the more delicate parts of my anatomy. Each rib, counted under his breath.

«Okay. I'll guess that's you. Glad you're okay,» he said. «I'll just, um. Keep talking. Not that you can answer, but they might not realise we're in contact. That's our advantage.»

Patience to sit through being manhandled ended about the time he took my chin between his fingers. My face felt hot against the cold palm.

I slapped his touch away.

"Alright, I think it's time you told me who you really are. And why you're holding me here. Unless you're really Yeerks, after all," I said in my sternest voice. The one that kept the group from splintering and making terrible life choices.

Because what else is this? What else could possibly be going on?

«You tell 'em. Don't trust any of this, it's got to be a trick,» Tobias agreed with me.

The country-style drawler took my bluff and returned it with an icy glare. He was tall. Taller than me, which wasn't saying much. Older, stronger, and looming despite my good metre off the ground.

I've faced death up close. Visser Three - Ax calls him the Abomination, and for good reason. Cannibalistic taxxons, trained switchblade hork-bajir and depraved human Controllers. My friends being torn apart, eaten alive right in front of me.

I've had to take lives. My soul will always be weighed down under impossible choices.

But something in the plain face of my captor made me sit down.

Flop, actually. Hard.

There were round capsules in the ceiling. I looked up and wondered hard at what they did.

For that moment I didn't see his face. But a non-committal grunt made the tight ball in my stomach relax. "Well, then."

"I'm alone," I blurted.

Silence. From everyone. I kept my eyes up. The lump seemed to have migrated to my throat.

Could this work? Did they know? Well, yes, they knew. Tobias saw me demorph. Watched by these two men, even examined, if I read those movements right.

«I'm okay. Don't look at me, just pretend I'm a normal bird. Or, uh, trained. Yeah. Just - just keep them talking. Ugh,» Tobias groaned, «the big guy is still looking at me. He's gonna look like a real idiot when he finds out I'm your average dumb hawk.»

"I'm on my own," swallow and don't look at him, squint right at the lights if you have to, "and that's just my bird. A pet."

«Trained hawk.»

"Trained hawk. He, uh, does tricks. I taught him to fly."

Stupid. Covering for him made him look more suspicious. Even if these two hadn't tried to kill us yet, they might just be waiting for a chance. Might be looking for me to give up something better.

But what was better than two captured Andalite Bandits?

Six Andalite Bandits. An easy answer. They had to be going for the big prize.

I watched a hand hover overhead. He held a small, glassy object. The crystal and miniature wiring woven through it caught the light to sparkle, like corrugated crystal. The deep whirring brought my glance to the blue-eyed guy. Not watching me. Not looking at the threat. He frowned, almost pouted, at the little device. And then he looked down to me.

"So." A friendly pat between not-ever-going-to-be-friends on my arm startled the both of us. "I've told you who I am. Who're you supposed to be?"

Here we go. The questions.

"I'm- um," I squeaked, pinned under the strange ferocity of this bizarre examiner, "I'm Cindy. Cindy Crawford."

The crisp edge of winter cut his every letter into razors. "Cindy. Right. Well, Cindy," the drawl deepened in obvious displeasure, "you're perfectly fine. And I mean perfect. For an unvaccinated specimen of humanity right outta the dark ages."

A new voice made me jump. "May I enquire as to the name of the hawk, miss Crawford?"

I shrank into the examination table.

Black eyebrows painted like angry lines from a cartoon brought the harsh angles of the second, taller man into relief against the comparatively soothing medical backdrop. If the fact that these people chased and shot me in some terrifying rendition of the Fox and the Hound hadn't set me on edge, a sense of being naked, vulnerable and helpless before a real-life example of a pale goblin certainly did.

I'd cowered before that face. In the dark. My leg - I clutched the wrist - shattered.

"Commander, mind butting out? This girl could drop dead of the common cold without some immediate attention."

A quelling look. Immune to the blue-eyed glare, his pointy-eared face looked down at me like I was a particularly interesting insect. My heart thudded.

It became clear, then. In that moment. I was trapped.

Like the wolf, dying in a ravine. The girl, held captive by armed strangers.

The movement of his lips drew a sharp jerk from my arms. His dark gaze bypassed my growing headache, a quirk of an eyebrow his only visible reply. "The avian creature, madam."

«Persistent, isn't he?» Wistful thought-speech. Poor Tobias. Left to himself. «And nice, by the way. Just call me Mulder. As in, Fox.»

"He's just a bird." It felt strange to shrug while lying flat. The bleeping crystal nearly touched my nose, passing down to beep some more somewhere around my navel. Craning my neck let me watch the scary southern guy work. "Um. I call him - Teddy. Sometimes."

«Cuddly, harmless, I think you nailed it there,» Tobias whispered.

Dumb. Dumb, dumb! Why couldn't it be anyone else? Better to take it for the team, sure, I'd never ask someone else to take it for me, but - I never hold up under these kinds of situations! And of all the questions to ask! Surely these goons had a time limit for getting sensitive information out of me?

Dreading the tap of delicate hooves on steel, I held my breath.

The creamy roof had one less face to avoid eye contact with. Oh. Of course. Carpet muffled footsteps. Passing back to presumably the clear box holding my friend, I breathed easier without that hook-nosed gremlin in my face. He'd made a swift exit.

"Teddy," he began, to Tobias' closed-circuit amusement.

A commiserating glance from the examiner whose name I just couldn't remember made me giggle. Like a schoolgirl. Who wasn't a prisoner of war.

Right. I'm terrified. One of Marco's terrible jokes would probably have me in hysterics.

Pshhhh.

My leg hooked over the table edge before my brain caught up to the strange pressure under the skin of my arm.

Backing away, the picture of innocence, his quick-stepped distance let me down to limp back against the wall. Heavy. Each step dragged but, breath coming faster, the plaster accepted me like a cold hug.

Sagging, breathing helped to keep the useless fear from dropping my knees to the floor.

My arm. No raised skin. No pain, really. But he did something.

"Human." A raised finger. Feet placed under slightly hunched shoulders, poised, hands spread to the sides. The spitting image of a man ready to grab.

A growl from the depths of my throat, the vision of my panicked wolf, brought my hands to my mouth.

"One hundred percent. That's my diagnosis. But," he made a visible effort to relax, catching distress like a satellite dish, "clearly not your bog-standard homo sapien. What exactly are you, if y' don't mind my asking?"

"What kind of..." My eyes bugged. For real? No. No-one, particularly a conniving Yeerks, was that stupid. What did it look like? I'd just melted into existence from wolf to girl, under his watch, rewriting the history books on terrible ideas. Why would he ask something so dumb?

Another whir from the little device. It looked like a futuristic salt shaker. He waggled it at me, eyebrows raised. Like it should mean something.

«No way.» Tobias almost sounded giddy. «He doesn't get it.»

A long play. It had to be.

He had to be some kind of Yeerk super-spy to play dumb so well. To keep from breaking out the handcuffs and infesting me himself.

But. He'd have all the answers. No reason to. Not to.

My bare thighs caught the ward wall in painful stops and starts. I slid to the floor.

In a rush, his knee brushed my bare foot. Soft palm touching my face. Cool against my forehead, I caught myself leaning into his hand. It lingered in my mind, a faint scent of alcohol.

"You're burning up," he muttered. "That couldn't have caused this reaction. Just some vitamins," added at my silent protest, glaring through bleary eyes. "You're missing out some magnesium, burning through it in fact. Must be stressful, a few seconds with the hobgoblin."

A jerked thumb over his shoulder indicated who the 'hobgoblin' might be.

I snorted. It came out messy. "Funny... Yeerk."

«Cassie,» Tobias said, «you okay? That sounded kind of gross. Actually, he's gone now, I can see it. Eww.»

Way to stay focused, Tobias.

Ministrations came swiftly and, dare I say it, professionally. This man had to be a doctor. A nurse. Had to be. A damp cloth soaked through my skin, the fires banked to an itch that travelled down my back. Wiggling to rub through my leotard barely touched to scratch it.

"Cindy. Cindy," the doctor tapped my cheek, drawing out a groan. "Agh, dammit. Y'know," he grunted, arms under my legs and back as he heaved up to stand, "I'd love to hear more about these 'Yeerks'. They sound like real characters."

"Slimy." Understatement. "Enemy. I mean... not you. I don't mean that. Please."

Confused again. At least I could tell, this time, that something was messing with me. The table straightened me out but I rolled to my side, coughing.

"Spock."

"Yes, Doctor?" Close by. At least my eyes were shut, squeezed against the back of my hand.

It sucked. Felt like I couldn't breathe. The air tasted heavy, solid and hard to swallow. They talked some more and I focused on my skin. The cells. Clean cuticles, fine, not stubby claws. The thought had me scramble to lean over the side. Retching made me feel worse.

I leaned back and burped. It stank. Like, really stank. I hadn't eaten anything as the wolf morph, right? Nothing like rotting meat? Or, say, a skunk?

Problem was, the smell got worse. No more spew but plenty more stink. The heels of my hands dug into my eye sockets. Going crazy. Maybe this was all a fever dream. I'd wake up at home, late to check on the animals, Dad holding back a major dress-down until I slept off some extended homework blues...

Ugh. No, that wasn't just vomit. I could smell musty red-tailed hawk. I could smell that weird, not-human taint all over the pointy gremlin man.

Like the wolf. Like I hadn't demorphed.

«Um... Cassie?»

"Whhaaaaat." Gritting my teeth shut kept another wave from breaking out all over the Doctor's clean trousers.

He said it carefully. A forced lightness against the weight of each word. «You're morphing again. Maybe not a great idea.»

Morphing? But I'd been thinking about being human. That's not how morphing worked. It was against the rules. The universe couldn't just breach itself like that. That's colossally unfair.

And then I started to melt.