A bright blue light pierces the sky outside as a lone tail-fighter drops from Z-Space. It had been a long while, though not as long for most.
The sleek silver craft slices its way down through the cool air, flying over the airship 'lot' before settling over a space and lighting down smoothly. The silver hull seems to split open as a ramp lets down onto the soft earth. The creature that trots down the ramp has been here many times before...the beginning and end of all his stories it seemed. He feels invigorated here, where the boundaries of dimensions are weaker. His abilities are stronger here. They always had been. Immediately his senses expand as he feels life a short distance away. So, there were people here then. Other living beings. Whether any are those he knows or not he cannot say. His powers are stronger here, but the BT, of course, is the strongest force in his own domain.
One thing is certain though...if anyone he knows is here, they won't remember. They won't remember any of it. He'd changed it and almost broken space-time in the doing. He had borrowed power from a good friend and changed one single event in the timeline. Only those he'd brought with him, namely Claxter and Aetheas, remembered the original timeline of events. Only they had been shielded from the shifting of reality. He'd stopped the information on the rebels' base from ever being leaked to the Electorate...stoppe d its destruction...saved hundreds if not thousands of lives. He'd preserved the Andalite defensive line, and no one would know. Perhaps it was better off that way. He didn't want accolades, just peace and harmony. He'd resolved later to never alter the past again...he'd gotten lucky this time, and had still nearly destroyed all the lives he'd been trying to save.
Of course that all meant he was still a 'loyal' Prince of the grand Andalite navy. And Enorryma and all the others were back where they'd been before the disastrous attack that, now, had never occurred. He shakes his head, feeling so much older than the somewhat young age his body betrays. His ARC holo-display lights up, giving him real time information on the ramshackle building ahead. The same as always. He checks his handheld Shredders and dual katana-like swords at his waist before moving toward the bar.
The andalite pushes open the saloon-type swinging doors and trots in, his shimmering royal-blue fur rippling with his body movements, silver-black hooves thunking on the old wood floor. He notes five humans, two of them controllers, and one very odd-looking skeleton-like creature. He glances at the skeleton-creature, filing it away for later processing. Nothing could surprise in this place, after all. But a closer perusal of one of the controllers shows him Tara's curly, unkempt locks. Myitt...the andalite has mixed feelings seeing her. They'd always shared a strong bond, ever since they'd met at this place. Working closely together, well, as closely as he could get away with without angering the Electorate TOO badly. They'd grown closer after the attack and rescue...but those things had no longer happened. This was Myitt now, and she almost surely knew nothing about the events that had no-longer transpired. Indeed, in the months following the andalite's reversal of that terrible attack, this Myitt had grown distant, contacting him less and less often. Out of respect, he did not request more contact, though he'd felt them growing further apart. Now he knows so little of her life that he feels they're little more than acquaintances. Old acquaintances to be sure, with many fond memories, but merely acquaintances none-the-less.
She looks distraught, though he certainly has no idea why. The hard lines of his face soften a bit, but he makes no extra effort to strike up a conversation. He favors the other controller with a glance, letting her know with just a look that he knows what she is, before stepping up to the bar. He nods at the BT. <The usual.> The BT's eyes glint darkly as he mixes a drink and pours it into a small bowl, sliding it under the counter. The larger-than-average male andalite dips his hoof in, sipping the fermented grass liquor. The BT merely smiles malevolently and the andalite nods back.
<<Yes.>> He whips his muscular, sinuous, scythe-tipped tail back and forth idly. <<Ossanlin's back.>>
