Paragon Prince -- Ossanlin's Story

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Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin):
Okay, so. Most of you guys probably don't know me that well as I stick almost exclusively to the Animorph's RPG thread where I administrate the Rogue Element role-playing thread, and help mod the GESB role-playing thread. But I have decided to make a serious attempt at writing out the "pre-roleplaying" portion of my primary character's history.

My primary character, the one I've been playing as since Kimmeree's Anichat (over ten years of role-playing history). He's very well-developed and as much a part of my identity as my own sense of self. Not that I get confused about who I am... XD I just mean that he's as organic as a character can get now. He lives and grows through experiences and nearly writes himself into the RP's in which I participate. Scottluminator has inspired me with his remarkable story-telling involving his character's history, so I figure it's time I take the time to actually write and flesh out the parts of Ossanlin's life that haven't been role-played.

Please be a little forgiving involving canon. I haven't read the Animorphs series for over ten years, and I sometimes write without doing a lot of research. I will be inventing a lot of details regarding the Andalites and some of their settlements, facilities, culture (what hasn't already been laid out by K.A.), military, government, etc. I have already invented some new pieces of Andalite technology as well as the Mark III "Dreadnought-Class" Dome ship (the type that Lumy included in his chapter 8 ), new Andalite military ranks and belt-badge insignia for each rank, and bridge officer classifications/stations. Descriptions of the new technology and links to the other things I've "invented" (including poorly-done drawings of the Mark III Dome Ship and Andalite belt-badge rank insignia) can be found here, if anyone is interested in looking.

I will probably include a little table of contents with this post (like Lumy did), when/if it becomes necessary. I hope someone will find this interesting, but even if no one does, it helps me to develop the Andalite world into a larger reality in my own mind. Thanks for looking/reading. :)

Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin):
[spoiler=Chapter One: Validation]Ossanlin looked out over the impressive landscape of Cendorus, thoughts flitting through his head. The Reflection Room had been built for the purposes of quiet contemplation, built up on top of the Academy, removed from the din below. This room had always made Ossanlin feel a tad queasy merely for the height. Of course, that was simply Andalite nature…heights and confined spaces…this room had both, though the architects had done their best to make it feel vast and open. Ossanlin had gotten used to the unsettling feeling of this room. His thoughts, however, were anything but serene.

Prince Raigar-Markovan-Erethul stood quietly behind him. Decorated veteran, War-Prince, and an Academy Patron…and he’d just said something that no Andalite would dare say. ‘Ossanlin…you do know that Yeerks aren’t all evil, don’t you?’

Of course that was true. To demonize an entire species over the actions of a few was highly illogical. It stood to reason that the Yeerks were just as diverse of thought as any other species. The propaganda…the hatred…it was a tool the Electorate used to control the People. Ossanlin had realized that long ago, even before he’d joined the Academy. His father and mother had taught him the basis of that attitude, but to voice it was nearly suicidal. And here was Prince Raigar whispering his opinion at the top of the Academy. Was it a test? Was Raigar merely stressing Ossanlin’s loyalties? Or was he being genuine? Suddenly Ossanlin was glad that they were alone in the Reflection Room. What should he answer? The wrong answer could end his career right then, before it even started.

<<I…am unsure of how to respond, Prince.>> Ossanlin bowed his stalk eyes before speaking again. <> Ossanlin nearly held his breath. To utter such words, especially when it was contextually clear that they were spoken of Yeerks, was near blasphemy.

Raigar remained quiet for an interminable amount of time before speaking again. <<Good, cadet. I’m glad that you see through the propaganda. So many of our people allow it to blind them, even to the point of illogic. Please know that I have come to the same conclusion.>>

Ossanlin let out his breath and relaxed a bit. So…that had been the right answer. Or perhaps there hadn’t been a wrong answer, but Ossanlin was suddenly glad that he’d been honest. His parents had taught him that an Andalite without honesty was an Andalite without honor. He felt a twinge of regret as he realized that a small part of him had wanted to report the War-Prince as a Yeerk sympathizer. He quashed that thought ruthlessly, allowing nothing of it to remain, and turned to face Raigar. <<Why are you telling me this, Prince?>>

<<Because, Ossanlin…I believe it to be important. You are skilled…very skilled. I have little doubt that you will graduate from the Academy early and with honors. I think you will be a very influential Andalite someday, and I’d hate to think that you’ve been blinded by the Electorate’s hate-mongering sermons.>> Raigar trotted up to Ossanlin and laid a hand on the young cadet’s shoulder. <<There are others out there, Ossanlin. Others who have the strength and intelligence to see through the propaganda, despite the Electorate’s efforts to prevent that very realization. You’re not alone.>> Raigar nodded solemnly and then smiled before removing his hand.

Ossanlin nodded and bowed his upper half. <<Thank you, Prince. It is…comforting to hear that I am not the only one to think these thoughts.>>

Raigar nodded and stepped up to the force-shields looking out over the wide, mostly-flat landscape. <<The important thing to remember, cadet, is that every person, whether that person is an Andalite, a Yeerk, or some other species, is an individual with his or her own thoughts, dreams, values, ethics, and ambitions. There are some very bad Andalites out there, and I have no doubt that, conversely, there are some very good Yeerks as well.>> Raigar turned from the windows to regard Ossanlin with his main eyes again. <<Do not judge someone based upon what they are, but instead upon their actions. Do not carry preconceptions. Merely remember that you do not know a person until you have run a kilometer in his hoof-prints.>>

Ossanlin nodded. <<Yes, Prince. Thank you…I will think carefully upon your words.>>

Raigar nodded once and started trotting toward the elevator leading down from the Reflection Room and then pausing. <<Cadet…I believe it goes without saying, but I feel that I should make it clear…you must keep these thoughts and opinions to yourself, at least for now. Just as there are others who share our thoughts, there are yet others who would destroy us for them.>>

<<Yes, my Prince.>> Ossanlin bowed again as Raigar descended on the lift. He turned back toward the force-shields, looking out over the tightly-packed scoops of Cendorus.

Cendorus, the largest singular population center on the Homeworld. Of course Andalites tended to keep to their open spaces, and indeed most commuted to reach this locus, but some things had demanded the relative discomfort of a crowded life. The residential scoops were all flat on the ground, but spaced much more closely than nearly anywhere else on the planet. Artificially-created strips of grass and streams cross-hatched the settlement, creating a traversable network that could also be used to feed. Of course, the artificial grass didn’t ‘taste’ nearly so good as the fresh, natural grasses of the plains, and the water tasted recycled, but one had to make certain sacrifices to live in such a manner. A few open parks broke up the grid. They made it more bearable, but only by a little.

Off in the distance, Ossanlin could see the tall outlines of the Cyrenk shipyard. The whole place was devoted to building Dome Ship pieces. The mass accelerator drew a long, perfectly-straight line next to the shipyard, arcing up toward the sky at the end…it was the preferred method for moving Dome Ship parts into orbit, where they could then be further assembled in the Sky Garden. The MAG rings drew a hovering, upward-arcing line into the sky, ready to supply powerful magnetic boosts to the space-bound equipment and personnel shuttles launched from the facility.

There were other shipyards on the Homeworld, but most of them were devoted to building transport and fighter craft. Cyrenk was a brand-new, state-of-the-art facility that had been designed specifically to build Dome Ships. No one commented on the fact that a low-g planet or planetoid would’ve made a much better candidate for a shipyard, because one would then be forced to admit to the only logical reason for building the shipyard here on the Homeworld…the military wasn’t sure it would be able to effectively defend an off-planet shipyard.

By day, the Sky Garden was hidden by the diffraction of light in the atmosphere, but at night, the massive space-station and shipyard complex was visible from the ground to the naked eye…hovering in geosynchronous orbit. Four wide plates branching out from a central sphere-shaped hub marked the Sky Garden’s four assembly yards, all connected to the worker living complex. Bright bluish-white lights lined the entire station, making it clearly visible at night.

Several tall, curved, spire-like structures dotted the land of Cendorus as well, pointing straight up into the sky…orbit-defense Shredders. The Yeerks shouldn’t be able to get anywhere near the Homeworld with the Alpha Line holding strong, not to mention the automated space defense grid built around the Homeworld System, but the towers seemed to give the People a sort of reassurance. A sense of security.

Ossanlin made out the curved, graceful lines of Electorate Hall…seat of government for the entirety of the Andalite species. The large, rounded, crystalline dome was tall, perhaps in defiance of Andalite nature. Five diamond-shaped spires rose up around the dome, equally spaced. Ossanlin couldn’t help but to sneer a bit at the sight of the building. The Electorate…a pack of war-mongering, power-hungry, control-seeking bureaucrats. The thought came much more easily to him now that Raigar had validated his opinion.

And the unremarkable buildings of Marin Lab…the very place where Escafil had developed the morphing technology years ago. Ossanlin had no doubts that the unassuming structure held many more secrets in-potentia. His father, Aran, worked at Marin Lab in one of the low-security sections, even so, he still never talked about his work.

His mother, Lyrian, was an Academy instructor. Being estreen, she taught the first-year cadets the different facets of morphing technique, and how to control and use the natural instincts of morphs to advantage.

His parents both took shuttles to and from work every day from the Scirit plains. Neither had been possessed of the desire to actually move into Cendorus-proper, but the lush, wide, grass-filled plains situated around the population center had been proximal enough. Unfortunately, initiates of the Academy had no choice. Ossanlin had been forced to live on the premises of the Academy in the heart of Cendorus since he’d first signed on.

Ossanlin shook his head…he needed to get away from himself for awhile. He moved to the lift and descended back into the Academy proper. Thought-speech voices echoed around him as Andalites of varying age discussed every topic under the suns from the most-recent tail-fighting tournament to the state of the war with the Yeerks. He took one of the wide, central concourses out to the secondary exercise yard, noting the figure of his one and only friend, Siruvan, waiting near the doorway.

<Ossanlin, over here!> Siruvan waved a hand and walked toward Ossanlin.

Ossanlin eye-smiled and nodded, walking up to his friend. <Siruvan, well met! Care for a sparring session?>

Siruvan grinned back in Andalite fashion. <Most certainly!>

Siruvan was a good male. Reasonably intelligent, and a talented engineer. But his passion was tail-fighting, and unfortunately for him, he wasn’t terribly skilled at it. Most of the students at the Academy tended to shy away from Ossanlin, most resenting his resounding successes. Siruvan had actually sought Ossanlin out for personal tail-fighting lessons. At the time, Ossanlin had read the desperation in Siruvan’s eyes and agreed. Through the lessons, the two had become fast friends, and they often engaged in activities with each other now.

As they walked out into the yard, Siruvan spoke up. <Ossanlin, are you alright? You look unsettled.>

Ossanlin quickly mastered his features…he’d have to work on that. A face could speak a thousand silent words that you didn’t want uttered. He smiles and nods again. 

Siruvan’s expression said that he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press Ossanlin on the matter. <Well, I’ve been working on some new techniques. Many of the analysts say that Iskilion holds the most promise for the future of tail-fighting, so I’ve been practicing it.>

Ossanlin stopped and regarded his friend with a serious expression. <Siruvan…Iskilion is a highly-advanced set of techniques. Yes, it is difficult to overcome in a duel, but it is also incredibly difficult to master. Iskilion can cause serious injuries to the wielder if he or she has not reached a suitable level of skill.>

Siruvan looked somewhat crestfallen and just a bit angry as he spoke. <You use Iskilion.>

<Only because I’ve been training nearly since my birth. Siruvan, I’m not comfortable with you attempting Iskilion right now. Please, trust me in this. Stick to Harket for the time being. Once you have mastered every nuance of it, you might be ready to attempt the most basic forms of Iskilion.>

Siruvan lowered his stalk-eyes and nodded. <Alright. I’ll trust you. I just…I don’t feel like I’m improving, and it’s frustrating.>

Ossanlin nodded. <You are improving, Siruvan. I can see the development in your form and technique. I can no longer anticipate your moves so easily…you’re beginning to adapt and improvise. You’re getting quicker, as well. Do not feel discouraged, Siruvan.> Ossanlin smiled once more before nodding and stepping into one of the unoccupied sparring rings laid out on the ground.

Siruvan gave Ossanlin a grateful look before stepping into the ring himself.[/spoiler]

Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin):
[spoiler=Chapter 2: Lessons From the Past and Revelations of the Future]Ossanlin glanced around the shared barrack-style Cadet quarters before heading back out. The suns had set over the Scirit plains and the population center of Cendorus, and most of the other Cadets were heading into the quarters for the evening relaxation period, but Ossanlin had other things to do.

Ossanlin admired the well-lit buildings and scoops as he slowly made his way back toward the center of the Academy. The place was actually quite pretty at night. Ossanlin’s main eyes wandered up into the sky to rest upon the large, hanging form of the Sky Garden. Lit up in blue and white hues, it almost resembled a lobed moon, glowing dimly amongst the stars.

Kirun had asked Ossanlin to return to the practice yard tonight. It would likely be empty. He’d said he had a surprise for Ossanlin that he wanted to try out. In spite of the secrecy and nebulousness, Ossanlin found himself somewhat excited. The last time Kirun had had a “surprise” for Ossanlin, it had been three of the top tail-fighters on the Homeworld. Ossanlin had fought and beaten each one separately, and they’d had to team up to beat him. After that, Kirun’s lessons had all included multiple opponents for Ossanlin to fight at the same time. Ossanlin had won the eventual all-at-once rematch with the three.

He found himself running through the possibilities in his mind. What else could Kirun find to throw at him? If there was one thing to be said about Kirun, it was that he was a dedicated teacher. Ossanlin had mastered all of his lessons so far, but that didn’t stop Kirun from finding more ways to test Ossanlin’s limits.

Ossanlin passed only a few other students as he made his way through one of the wide, open concourses toward the practice yards. As he arrived at the entry onto the practice yard, he saw Kirun in one of the rings, mock-fighting an imaginary opponent with near-flawless Iskilion. Overcoming that had been a challenge, but Kirun hadn’t displayed even the slightest amount of shock the first time Ossanlin had beaten him in an even duel.

Ossanlin watched in silence for a few moments before trotting out into the well-lit yard. All facilities at the Academy were available at all hours of the day, but almost no-one was out this late. Recently, however, this had become one of the most active times of Ossanlin’s days. He attended special lessons with nearly all of his instructors at least once per week, and then there were his meetings with Academy Patron Prince Raigar.

Kirun had spotted Ossanlin long before he’d moved out onto the field, of course. Kirun had great situational awareness…that came of being a practiced tail-fighter. <Ah, Ossanlin. Good, I’m glad you made it out tonight. I have something special in store for you.>

Kirun smiled almost deviously as Ossanlin approached. Kirun was big…large for a male Andalite. He intimidated most of his students, and rightfully so. Kirun was a Dorun, Master Class, and though he was not considered the most-skilled tail-fighter on the Homeworld, he was certainly not to be scoffed at. Ossanlin hadn’t believed the male’s speed the first time he’d seen it. That something so large could move so quickly seemed completely counter-intuitive. Ossanlin himself was not small…in fact his current growth pattern suggested that he might become just as large as Kirun was once he reached adulthood.

Ossanlin bowed his stalk-eyes and performed the ritualistic tail-fighting salute, right arm crossed over his chest, tail arching forward so the tip of the tail-blade rested just above his head, before speaking. <Master Kirun, it is good to see you in such fine form.>

Kirun smiled and chuckled. <And it is fine to see my best student so dedicated to the Art.> He trotted over to a cloth lying on the ground and casually swiped it aside with his tail. <This is the surprise.> The Master smirked.

Ossanlin glanced at the ground and moved closer for a better look. Laying there were two narrow, handled metallic rods approximately one meter in length each. Upon closer inspection, Ossanlin noticed that the instruments were not rods precisely…they were wider than they were thick, and one side looked to be thinner than the other, like an un-sharpened edge. Ossanlin looked up at Kirun questioningly.

Kirun gestured at the things lying on the ground. <Go ahead, pick them up. See how they feel in your hands.>

Ossanlin did as instructed, bending down to retrieve the two metal rods. The grips were fine akstek leather, and the blades appeared to be semi-pored litanium. Ossanlin held one in each hand, confusion still present in his eyes.

<Ossanlin, you’ve mastered nearly every tail-fighting technique I know of, but there is one that I have read about in ancient electronic texts that has always seemed facetious to me. Seeing your skill, I can finally believe that the technique actually existed. It is called Ken’Kara. The Art of Three Blades.>

Ossanlin’s main eyes widened as he looked down at the metallic rods in his hands. Both were swept back slightly in a graceful curve. Yes, that thinner part on the belly of the shallow curve could be sharpened into an actual blade. The grips, made to fit the hands and not to twist, and the metallic crescent-like discs between the blades and their handles, to guard the hands. These were meant to be swords!

<Think of it, Ossanlin…not one blade, but three. The possibilities seem endless. This is the pinnacle of martial blade form.>

Ossanlin attempted to swing one of the blades and immediately felt its weight carry through. <Master, these blades are heavy…I can’t help but feel that my arms would tire almost immediately with trying to swing their weight.>

Kirun nodded knowingly. <Yes. The thought had occurred to me as well. You will need to begin an arm-strength training regimen to develop power and stamina in your upper limbs.>

Ossanlin glanced down at the blades again. <Master, if I may ask…if one is to wield weapons with hands while tail-fighting, why would one not simply use Shredd?>

<Ah, a good question, and another one I’ve thought long upon. But think, Ossanlin…is a Shredder dangerous in more than one direction? Is it dangerous for more than a moment while the trigger is pulled? Can a Shredder defend against an incoming blow, or block an attack? The blade is dangerous over a wide range of directions, and it can always cut. The blade can also deflect and block attacks, allowing the tail to be free for striking or vice versa.> Kirun nodded at Ossanlin and started moving toward one of the small, open lecture scoops at the edge of the exercise yard.

Ossanlin nodded and followed, unsharpened blades in hand. 

Kirun stopped as he reached the lecture scoop, and powered the holo-projector up. <For two reasons, Ossanlin. I already mentioned you…your rate of learning and natural martial talent...that is one reason. The other reason, is this.> Kirun gestured at the analog holo-recording.

The data feed looked old and somewhat corrupted, but very soft thought-speech suddenly presented itself within Ossanlin’s mind. What followed left Ossanlin speechless. Instructions, text, visualizations…this was a very old recording about tail-fighting form, specifically the form of Ken’Kara.

<This data disc has been passed down through my family for generations, Ossanlin. All that we knew from our ancestors was that it contained the knowledge of ancient tail-fighters. The technology to restore the disc to full functionality and decrypt the ancient files wasn’t developed until a few years ago. I have pored over this disc’s contents many times since then. Ossanlin, the tri-blades actually existed.> Kirun paused for a moment, watching a portion of the data-file, before continuing. 

Kirun nodded to Ossanlin. <But you, Ossanlin…you have the skill and the dedication, and you lack the predispositions of extensive experience. Undertaking this…learning this ancient form will be the most difficult and arduous tail-fighting effort you’ve ever undertaken, but if there is anyone who can do it, Ossanlin…I believe that you have the potential to become the first Ken’Kara Master in over five thousand years.>

Ossanlin remained silent, aware of Kirun’s words, but completely enveloped in the old data-files. He drank in the wealth of knowledge…these voices of the past. It was as if the ancient and honored ancestors were communing with him through this nearly-corrupted data-file, passing their knowledge through the thick, impenetrable veils of time. Ossanlin had originally thought that fighting with the hand-blades would be a ridiculous waste of time, but now, hearing the ancestors and watching them…seeing the mythical and all but forgotten tri-blades himself, how could he possibly refuse the challenge? It would be like scuffing a hoof on the ancestors’ graves or scoffing in their faces. Ossanlin knew that his new tail-fighting passion lay in the blades still gripped in his hands. He would learn…he would absorb the information and drink in the wisdom. He would devote himself to learning Ken’Kara, and whether he succeeded or not, he would do proper honor to his ancestors.

When the data feed finally ended, Ossanlin stood silent…respectful, his mind playing scenes from the data-file over and over again. He hadn’t comprehended everything, but he’d understood a fair bit. Long before the Andalites had developed space-flight, or even ranged weapons, this tail-fighting form had been the penultimate Warrior’s mark…the pinnacle of tail-fighting prowess. Ossanlin had the potential to be such once again.

<Ossanlin, I am giving you this data-disc. I pray that you study it, use it, learn from it. Master this technique, and then pass it on. Do not let the wisdom of the ancient masters die.>

Ossanlin turned to see all four of Kirun’s eyes on him. Ossanlin’s own eyes widened. <Master Kirun, I can’t accept this! It is a family heirloom, a priceless artifact that was entrusted to your family.>

<The disc will be put to much better use by one who would learn from it and absorb the knowledge of the ancient masters, than by one who would see it encased in trans-fiber and displayed on a shelf.> Kirun smiled a bit, carefully ensconcing the ancient data disc in a padded, armored carry case which he slung carefully over Ossanlin’s shoulder. <Take the disc and the hand-blades with you and learn when you can. I will expect you to fight with those dull blades at our next private lesson.>

Ossanlin stood shocked for a moment before bowing his upper torso low. <Thank you, Master. I will study and learn…you won’t be disappointed.>

Kirun nodded. 

Ossanlin bowed again and exited the small lecture scoop, heading back into the central concourse. His mind still reeled from the knowledge and wisdom imparted to him through the ancient data disc.

As he passed out into the large, enclosed central common, a claxon sounded through the entire settlement of Cendorus before a broad-range thought-speech voice announced, <Warning, Cyrenk facility launch will occur in one standard minute. Clear all Cyrenk-priority air-space, thank you.>

Ossanlin glanced up through the small, rounded dome at the night sky before stepping onto the lift leading to the Reflection Room. He rode the lift up absorbed in his thoughts. Prince Raigar would be waiting for him.

Ossanlin ascended into the Reflection Room and glanced around, noting the solid form of Prince Raigar staring out the force-shield window at the Cyrenk facility. Another warning issued through Cendorus…thirty standard seconds ‘til launch. Ossanlin remained silent as he stepped up next to Raigar, staring out over the tightly-packed scoops of Cendorus.

The Cyrenk facility was aglow with light and activity. The MAG rings were filled with an intense blue glow, charged and ready to help propel the facility’s projectile into space. Fifteen seconds…lights along the mass accelerator rolled smoothly forward. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…Launch.

The enclosed shuttle that contained half of one of the Apix matter coil assemblies launched forward along the mass accelerator, picking up massive amounts of speed in mere seconds. It ascended the upward arc and then flew free of the mass accelerator, passing through the first MAG ring. It discharged and the Dome Ship part accelerated past the speed of sound before it hit the next MAG ring and accelerated even more. A sonic boom suddenly washed over Cendorus, shaking the ground a bit. The projectile quickly became lost to sight as it ascended, pushing past escape velocity.

<Remarkable, isn’t it? Such a simple way of moving huge parts from the surface of a planet…and completely unnecessary if only the Empire didn’t threaten us from every angle.> Raigar finally turned his main eyes on Ossanlin. <And yet, we persevere.>

Ossanlin broke his own main eyes away from the Cyrenk facility and met Raigar’s. <We do what we must to protect the People.>

Raigar nodded and went to stand next to the large, under-lit fountain. It sparkled in the low light of the night-time Reflection Room. <Yes. Yes we do.> Raigar glanced at the blades clutched in Ossanlin’s left hand and nodded. <One of Master Kirun’s new efforts to challenge you?>

Ossanlin trotted toward the fountain as well. <Yes, Prince. It is an ancient form known as Ken’Kara.>

Raigar smiled. <Tell me, Ossanlin, who do you think “The People” are?>

Ossanlin gave Raigar a suddenly-confused look before answering by rote. <The People are my duty. The People are my responsibility. The People are my honor. My life is lived for the People, and should they require its sacrifice, they shall have it.>

Raigar chuckled and clapped Ossanlin on the shoulder. <That is the response we drilled into you. But who exactly are “The People?”>

Ossanlin ****ed his head in further confusion. <Well, the Andalite People.>

Raigar nodded a bit before turning back toward the windows. <Do you really think that The People are no more than the Andalites? Is our scope truly so limited?> Raigar turned back toward Ossanlin. <If The People are just the Andalites, then why do we struggle so strongly against the Empire? They cannot threaten us as yet…and if we use this time to fortify our own defenses…if we build a fortress around our home system, and perhaps some of our near satellite systems, the Empire will never get in. We could forge the Alpha line into an impenetrable wall.> Raigar trotted back toward Ossanlin. <Why, then, Cadet, do we fight so fiercely and expend our resources in trying to stop the spread of the Empire?>

Ossanlin furrowed his brow. He nearly spoke, but stopped himself, thinking further. The Andalites bore direct responsibility for unleashing the Yeerk plague upon the Galaxy. The war was meant as a restitution…the rectification of a grievous error. But Raigar’s words rang true…if everything in life was for The People, and The People were the Andalites, then why would the Andalites not simply fortify and protect themselves?

<Then…The People…it must mean the free Peoples…of the Galaxy.> Ossanlin’s eyes widened as his outlook on the entire conflict changed. Suddenly his life was not a shield for the Homeworld, but a shield for the entire Galaxy. He felt the weight of that absolute responsibility settle upon his shoulders. His duty…so much heavier than it ever had been before.

Raigar smiled and clasped Ossanlin’s forearms, nodding as he saw the realization dawn on his pupil. <Yes…we are defenders of the Galaxy, Ossanlin. We have taken that mantle upon ourselves by claiming responsibility for the Empire. I think that “The People” contains anyone who cannot fight for himself. Anyone.> Raigar nodded meaningfully.

<Anyone…wait…you mean…you mean Yeerks?!> Ossanlin’s tone rose a bit at that. He’d been working on controlling his physical and “vocal” reactions, but some things still caught him off-guard.

<Yes, Ossanlin…Yeerks. There are Yeerks whom do not agree with the Empire. They cannot fight for themselves. They are denied hosts, and in some cases I’m certain, executed by the Empire for vocalizing dissent. We fight for The People, Ossanlin, and “The People” include Yeerks.>

Ossanlin turned away from Raigar, feeling the bile dropping into his legs. Yeerks weren’t inherently evil, that was pure logic, but the thought of devoting his life to the protection of Yeerks, any Yeerks, soured Ossanlin’s thoughts.

<Ossanlin…I would not have guided you to this realization if I hadn’t thought you were ready for it. It is a truth you must face and overcome.> Raigar walked over to Ossanlin and merely stood next to him, leaving Ossanlin to his own thoughts.

After several minutes of silence, Ossanlin looked up at his friend and mentor. <Prince…I must…I must think.> He turned and headed back toward the lift.

<Of course, Ossanlin. Don’t hesitate to contact me when you need to talk.>

Ossanlin remained silent as he boarded the lift and rode it down. His hands felt numb, still clasping the leather grips of the unsharpened swords, the padded carry-case for the ancient data disc still slung over a shoulder. He remained silent all the way back to the barracks and to his sleeping cube.

His life…for Yeerks?![/spoiler]

Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin):
[spoiler=Chapter 3: Shorm]<To understand quantum variations, one must first understand the nature of Z-Space.> Instructor Kerian-Mendel-Sufur did her best to sound enthusiastic about teaching as she performed a demonstration lecture for a group of Andalite younglings whom were deciding whether or not they would be attending the Academy.

Ossanlin listened to the lecture avidly, absorbing every word. Of course it was basic fundamentals, but this was merely to give the youngsters a taste of what it would be like to attend lecture at the Academy. He kept his main eyes on the instructor, but his stalk eyes gazed up longingly at the blue streaks dancing around far overhead. The Tail-Fighter demonstration. If only Ossanlin had been asked to take part in that. But it was being performed by the instructors…no real surprises there.

<We may think of Z-Space as we would an ocean. It possesses waves and energy. When we travel through Z-Space, our ships are forced to ride those waves no matter how “high” they reach, or how “low” they dip. These waves in flux are the basis of quantum variation. They are also the reason for the differences in transit time between the same two spots at different points in time.> Instructor Kerian activated the holo-display in the middle of the large, uncovered lecture-scoop. It showed a visible representation of Z-Space with n-dimensional distortions. <The larger the distortions, or “waves,” the longer the trip.>

<Point of entry determines Z-Space’s “surface” for the ship in question. Our ships use their energy shields to generate what we call a Varad field. Without the Varad field, Z-Space would tear our ships apart. Even with the Varad field, a ship can be destroyed in what we call an Active Shift. Z-Space is little more than volatile entropy, and an Active Shift occurs when something in one of the n-dimensions forces a ship onto a different plane or “surface” of Z-Space from within. The stresses on the ship’s physical reality are monumental in these situations. It takes a deft TO to successfully navigate an Active Shift…only 15% of ships experiencing an Active Shift survive, but thankfully, Active Shifts are markedly rare.>

Instructor Kerian caused the visual representation to display a hologram of the Z-Time theory. <Travel through Z-Space requires both physical and temporal travel, as do all other known forms of travel. Time and distance. Because of the nature of Z-Space travel, “velocity” is constant. In our traditional dimensional existence, constant velocity would demonstrate a direct and constant relationship between distance and time. This is not the case in Z-Space. Traveling the same distance at a constant velocity at different points in time often results in radically different overall transit times. N-dimensional variations in Z-Space are to blame. And though we do not completely understand the inter-dimensional relationships involved with Z-Space, this variation brings to light some very interesting possibilities, not the least of which is travel through time.>

Kerian paused for dramatic effect. Many of these younglings would’ve heard of Z-Time theory already, but teaching was, at its heart, a form of performance art. Besides which, Ossanlin noticed some rather awestruck faces in the crowd.

<If there is not a constant relationship between distance and time at constant speed, it stands to reason that one can travel anywhere in the Universe with no time elapsing. It also stands to reason that one can travel from one spot, to the exact same spot, over time. Travel is occurring, yet the ship is remaining in the exact same physical location. This means that despite traversing distance, the ship’s three-dimensional coordinates are remaining identical. Most physicists agree that in this hypothetical scenario, the only coordinate that may be changing for the ship is its fourth-dimensional coordinate…in other words, its place in time. Thus, time-travel.>

Kerian smiled before shutting down the scoop’s holo-projector. <Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the mathematics demonstrate that the amount of energy required to produce this effect would be astronomical, so we won’t be treading the fourth dimension any time soon.>

<Thank you all for listening so attentively. This concludes today’s Z-Theory lecture. Please remain orderly as you exit the scoop, and your guides will bring you to your next activity.> Kerian nodded and the younglings clasped their hands in front of themselves and bowed their upper torsos in respect. Ossanlin followed suit, before trotting up to the aging female instructor.

The instructor was engaged in conversation with a few of the younglings. Most if not all of those who took the time to converse with Kerian would end up joining the Academy. Out of the entire demonstration class, better than seventy percent would likely end up enrolled by the end of the cycle.

<Ah, cadet. Thank you for assisting with the class.> Kerian smiled somewhat warmly at Ossanlin. She was one to appreciate curious and agile minds, and Ossanlin had fit her bill right from the start.

<The pleasure was mine, Instructor. Well-done. You always manage to engage your students in your lectures.> Ossanlin bowed his eye-stalks in respect. Not all of his instructors would allow him to get away with such an equal gesture of respect, but Kerian allowed him many things.

<It is important to keep the younglings interested in thought and knowledge. So many enroll with thoughts only for glory and battle, they do not realize that a keen mind is one of the best weapons they may possess.> Kerian eye-smiled at Ossanlin for a moment before speaking again. <I’m so glad you understand that much, Ossanlin. I see the greatness in your future. You should go feed and rest. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.>

Ossanlin bowed his eye-stalks again and turned to leave.

<Please remember, Ossanlin…use your head before your tail.>

<Yes, Instructor. I shall.> Ossanlin glanced back at Kerian and nodded before turning back to leave.

As Ossanlin trotted toward the feeding grounds, he was caught up by Siruvan. Ossanlin favored his friend with a glance of his main eyes before continuing on.

<Ossanlin…is it true? Are you being deployed immediately?> Siruvan’s tone was measured and even.

<Yes, Siruvan. I depart the day after tomorrow. I am to be an aristh aboard the Galaxy Tree.> Ossanlin suppressed his excitement at the thought. Graduating at 16 years UGTS was a feat that very few academy initiates had ever accomplished. True, he was mere standard weeks away from his seventeenth birthday, but still!

<I…see.> Siruvan cast his main eyes down at the ground. Ossanlin noticed the elongated bag hanging from Siruvan’s right shoulder for the first time, but gave it little thought. <I’d hoped that that information had been exaggerated.>

 Ossanlin turned his main eyes on his friend again, concern painting his features.

<Because, Ossanlin…you are my only friend. I…don’t know what I will do without you here. You’ve made my time at the Academy tolerable. I can’t even begin to thank you for the tail-fighting lessons. I just don’t want to see you go. I suppose that’s selfish of me, I should be happy for you.>

Ossanlin stopped and smiled, placing a hand on Siruvan’s cheek. Siruvan widened his eyes at the intimate gesture, but didn’t pull away. <Siruvan, did it ever occur to you that you have been just as precious if not moreso to me? You are my only friend, and if there were a way to bring you with me, I would do it in a hearts-beat. But I have my duty, and I must follow it though it be painful.> Ossanlin nodded to Siruvan and placed his other hand on Siruvan’s other cheek. A gesture that was reserved for lovers or, in very special circumstances, the closest of friends. 

Siruvan widened his eyes even further, before placing his own hands on Ossanlin’s cheeks, bringing his tail-blade forward and holding it to Ossanlin’s neck. Ossanlin did the same with his tail. <Siruvan-Mefir-Lorinian, my life is yours to take.> Ossanlin continued to smile.

<And my life is yours to take, Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel.> Siruvan gave a trepidatious smile in return. The two held their blades poised at each-others’ necks for ten seconds, before withdrawing hands and tails.

<I want to give you something, Siruvan. Since I will be leaving, I must entrust its care to another. Where I’m going, my opportunities to teach tail-fighting will be limited, and the form must not die if something happens to me.> Ossanlin reached into the utilities belt at his waist and withdrew a small, armored case. He handed it to Siruvan.

Siruvan furrowed his eyebrows and accepted the case, opening it. He took in a sharp breath and closed it again, shoving it back at Ossanlin. 

<Nonsense, Siruvan. You are now the most-skilled student of tail-fighting at the Academy. You have mastered the arts taught here, and now it’s time for a new challenge.> Ossanlin laid a hand atop the case still clutched in Siruvan’s hands and pushed it back toward his friend. <I am the only Andalite who has studied Ken’Kara in a thousand years or more. This is the only remnant left of it, Siruvan. The Art of Three Blades cannot die. It is time for you to study it and learn the ways of the ancient Triblades. Then pass it on. More-so than a gift, it is responsibility that I am bestowing upon you. I entrust this knowledge to you. Please learn it and keep it alive.>

Siruvan clutched the case possessively, nodding and looking up at Ossanlin. Siruvan smiled tentatively as he took the bag from his shoulder and handed it to Ossanlin.

Ossanlin took note of the bag once again and accepted it from the other Andalite. He reached a hand into the bag and drew out one of the two items contained within. His eyebrows raised at the item now grasped in his hand. It was a sheathed blade, one of two that had been contained in the bag. Ossanlin slung the bag over his shoulder and used both hands to examine Siruvan’s gift.

The black-laquered sheath had restrained silver tooling worked all along its length. The hand-guard was a silver-tooled crescent moon, the grip fine synthite leather. It would never grow less supple, nor would it need oiling. He drew the sword from its sheath and nearly gasped as the almost-iridescent silver of the blade caught his eye. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was…

<Tri-bonded neutrite composite. Semi-porous to decrease weight.> Siruvan smiled a bit. <The edges have been precision-formed to a thickness of precisely one neutrite molecule.>

The same material as hull-plating. The stuff was enormously difficult to come by, and not cheap. How Siruvan had managed to come across enough of it to make two swords, Ossanlin could not fathom. The swords were incredibly light, they would add unthinkable speed to his strikes. That wasn’t to mention their energy-syncing capabilities. The properties of these blades would allow them to absorb energy-weapons fire and disperse it harmlessly as background heat, given that it wasn’t so intense as to break the tri-bonds of the neutrite itself. And a thickness of one neutrite molecule would allow the swords to cut through almost anything, and neutrite would hold that edge indefinitely.

<Siruvan…how…these are incredible!> Ossanlin smiled up at his friend before returning to his admiration of the blade.

<How isn’t important, and they don’t come close to repaying you for everything that you’ve done for me, Ossanlin. I just hope that they’ll provide a modicum of safety for you out there.> Siruvan smiled again before tucking the case containing the ancientKen’Kara data disc into his own utilities belt.

Ossanlin nodded, sheathing the sword and placing it back into the bag with its twin. <Thank you, my shorm. There is little more I can say…only that you’ve done as much for me. It will be comforting to know that I have your blades at my side, Siruvan, even though you won’t be with me in body.>

<And I will think of you every time I practice the Art of Three Blades, my shorm. It will be your training which guides me.>

Ossanlin nodded, still smiling as they ran toward the feeding ground for one last run together. It would be their first as shorm, but perhaps their last for years. Ossanlin felt bittersweet about that. Losing his friendship with Siruvan…one that had endured for years, would be painful. But Ossanlin was moving on to a new chapter of his life. Regardless, Ossanlin knew in his hearts that his deep bond with Siruvan would remain for the rest of his life. Perhaps after his tour in the military, he and Siruvan could pick up where they left off now. Reminisce about days of old and spar in the form of Ken’Kara. Perhaps.[/spoiler]

~I decided after the fact to post this portion as its own chapter...I have a bunch more written, but I felt it was getting too long and this had a good stopping point written in already. Thus, new chapter is posted. The next will likely be fairly quick in coming, though I make no promises. (It's mostly-written already, but you never know with me).

Aluminator (Kit):
Woo! New chapter and the potential for more soon! I'm loving finding out about Ossanlin's past. This is awesome ^_^

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