When the six of them were all able to meet up again, Tommy finally allowed himself to relax. Not being able to do anything more than keep an eye out for his fellow Animorphs when they were all in school together, since he and they weren't really in the same social groups and he agreed with Jake about trying to keep as much suspicion as they could from falling on them, since there was no way of knowing how many of them could be Yeerk-enslaved as well. Mr. Chapman probably wasn't the only one.

In light of all that, knowing that Rachel hadn't been trapped in the cat morph she'd used to escape from Visser Three after their second mission to spy on Mr. Chapman had gone so wrong was probably the best he could hope for.

"How is Melissa?" Cassie asked, bringing his attention back to the conversation they'd been having.

"I left her a note," Rachel said, going on to tell them what she'd put in the letter; it turned out to be a message of support for Melissa, something that Tommy found he could only approve of. "I know it's bad for security, Jake. And Marco, I know it's sentimental," she continued, giving the aforementioned boy an annoyed look. "But I don't care. Chapman gave up everything to save his daughter from being made into a host. I couldn't just do nothing."

(I think that could help,) he said, his tail twitching slightly back and forth; he couldn't quite stop wondering if his parents had been made into Yeerk hosts, or if they were just generally indifferent. (She'll probably feel better to know at least someone cares about her, at least if she's doing as bad as you said she was.)

"It's all right, maybe it will help," Jake allowed, nodding.

"Well, we destroyed one of the Yeerks' Bug Fighters, made Visser Three nervous, and-"

"And we came out alive," Marco said, cutting into Rachel's speech before she could really go anywhere.

(Yeah, that's important, too,) he said, as Cassie reached down to pet his head; Tommy found himself purring softly.

"Yeah, that's one of the most important things," Jake agreed, grinning.

"Next time, we'll-"

"Next time?!" Marco demanded, his tone thick with mock horror.

(There will be a next time,) Tobias said, his tone cold and serious where the rest of theirs had carried at least some amusement. (There will be a next time until the Andalites return.)

(Yeah,) he said, flexing his claws as he felt the same determination that he'd heard in Tobias' silent voice settling over him, in turn. (There will be.)