Weight of a Name

[Terenia]

I had another thread devoted to this fic, but I couldn't find it. That's alright, though, because all it had was a link to ff.net. I decided that I will use this thread to actually post the fic here. I'll be posting a chapter every few days until I get caught up. If you want to read everything I have written chapters 1-23 are available at http://www.fanfiction.net/~terenia. All in all this will probably be about a 30 chapter fic, so I'm nearing the finish line. Feel free to leave comments either here or at ff.net! If you enjoy this, please check out my other stories!

Summary/Promotional:

Chapter One

It was quite a lovely day for dreaming, and I had made my way to the perfect spot for such an activity. I doubted that anyone would find me here, in this small meadow tightly surrounded by trees. The layout of the land was such that one could feel as if they were outdoors and, simultaneously, enclosed in a room of leaf and bark. The result was that most Andalites avoided this place in favor of the more open pastures beyond. So I was, effectively, left alone to ponder.

My particular point of bemusement for the day was one which I had considered before and would do so many, many times again. The issue at hand was my name.

It is rare for an Andalite female to be named for her father. I was only just becoming aware of just what an oddity it was. I was quite young still, and had just begun schooling. Everyone at the Academy had very gender specific names like Serifilan, Merterum and Geranil if they happened to be male, or the softer Erana, Loneara, and Jinorea for the females. My name fell somewhere in the middle. An altered version of my fathers, it was too soft to be male, and yet too harsh to be female.

I hadn’t truly noticed the difference until it was pointed out to me, by a less than tactful peer of mine with a gorgeous name to make up for it: Estrelena. She mocked me, asking why my tail blade was so small for a boy and whether or not I would be filing a complaint with the Electorate. It was then that I realized I was different.

My mother had often told me to be proud of my name. I knew that in reality they had been under the assumption that they were to have a son, and when I popped out instead they had to think fast. Even with our advanced technology, mistakes do happen. My elder sister, who had been a girl as predicted, got to have a name that was entirely her own. Still, my mother liked to pretend that what I was called was accompanied by some sort of purpose or duty.

You will be like your father, she would say, it is your duty to be honorable, for his sake.

As I said, I was young, and those words made little sense to me. I assumed that my parents hoped I would become a great warrior, like my father. But that couldn’t be it, because I was female, and these were the days before our gender was widely accepted in the military. My father himself was stringently against it.

That particular day, early in my academic career, was when I first realized just how heavy a weight would be placed upon my shoulders, for such a small thing as a name. Sighing, I dipped my hoof into a nearby stream and allowed the cool refreshment to slide up my leg, remembering the events after school that day.

I had known something was wrong the moment I arrived at our scoop. Both mother and Foresha, my sister, were there, looking sullen and speaking to one another privately. When I walked up, they shot a knowing glance at one another and Foresha left, giving me a fleeting smile as she went.

<What is it?> I asked, looking at my mother in confusion. She pawed a nervous hoof and beckoned me closer. Feeling a flicker of wariness, I obeyed.

<I received news earlier today from your father,> she began. I felt my hearts lift with excitement. My father had been in space for many months now, trying to defeat the Yeerk scourge. We had not heard from him in weeks.

<What news?> I asked, keeping my voice calm and respectful, as I had been taught.

<Now, dear, you understand that this is confidential,> my mother said, looking me over as if to see whether or not I was worthy of this information, <don’t go chatting to your friends about this.>

<Of course not mother,> I said, deciding that I would rather not mention the lack of friends I had to give any information, confidential or not.

<Well, it appears that…well, the battle for the Hork-Bajir planet. It was lost. All forces there have been forced to retreat,> Mother said, one hand placed comfortingly on the area of my back that met my lower body.

<Is…is father okay?> I asked, trying to conceal my fear. My family was not one to be emotional, and I knew that if he were present, my father would scold me for showing too much. Inside, though, I felt lightheaded. If anything had happened to my father...

<He is alive,> My mother said shortly, <and uninjured. He will be returning to the homeworld shortly.>

<Then…this is good news?> I asked, unsure. If father was coming home, why did mother seem so upset?

<No, it is not good news,> My mother answered stonily, <An entire species has been lost to the Yeerks. What's more, your father is on trial. The entire force which was present on the Hork-Bajir world is on trial.>

<Trial? But…> I hesitated. What in the world could my father be on trial for? My father, who fought to protect us every day – how could he possibly have done something wrong? <Mother, what happened?>

<I do not know,> she said, and I could hear the lie in her thought-speak <but listen to me, dear. I need you to listen carefully. Can you do that?>

I nodded mutely, wondering what was going on. I could feel my entire world shifting beneath me as my mother spoke. <It is our duty to be there for your father as he goes through this difficult time. We need to ease his pain. You and I know that no matter what happened on that planet, your father did it in our best interest. You understand that, correct?>

<Yes, mother,> I responded quickly, eager to get away and be alone with my racing thoughts, <May I please be excused?>

My mother nodded her ascent, <yes, Allora. Go.>

And so here I was, among the whispering trees in a shady meadow, pondering this new world. I couldn’t imagine my father – my strict, but loving father – doing anything horrible enough to warrant an Electorate trial. If it was my mother and sister’s duty to protect father, it was twice mine. After all, I bore his name. Everywhere I went, people would be reminded of one of the greatest warriors of the modern age: War-Prince Alloran-Semitur-Corass.

[dolphin4077]

Thanks for the update.  I'm sure you're bored with me just saying great all the time, but it was great.  Cool poster.

[Terenia]

Thank you much I'm never bored with knowing someone is actually reading what I write!

[Terenia]

Chapter Two

For some time it seemed as if the world was being held in precarious balance. The trials were not well publicized, and my sister and I were forbidden to attend. The little information we received came from my mother when she returned, bleary eyed and exhausted.

<It is the same.> She would always say, when we asked for an update, <The Electorate has not reached a decision. You must be patient, my children.>

<But mother,> I protested, <What do they need to reach a decision on? What happened?>

She did not respond that night or any other. My father, though he was back on the homeworld, did not come home. He and the others involved with the Hork-Bajir world were being held within the watchful gaze of the Electorate. There weren’t even rumors to satisfy my curiosity: all of my school mates were unaware as of yet that the battle for RG-021578-4, the Hork-Bajir world, had been lost.

This situation left my sister and I alone to speculate. We came up with wild scenarios, each more ridiculous than the last. The Yeerks had tortured information from our father’s troops, the Yeerks had staged a massacre, the Andalites had been tricked into losing the war. Every idea played off of the fact that the Yeerks were at fault. My father was not guilty of any crime – of that I was positive. He had been framed. Worse, he had been framed by the Yeerks.

I felt a shiver of hatred run through my body every time I thought about my father being outsmarted by such a vile species. Clearly there was a missing piece of the puzzle, and I longed to find it out. While the trials were going on, however, I could only wait and hypothesize.

One day, as my sister and I trotted back to our scoop from feeding, we were suddenly met by a familiar thought-speech cry.

<Foresha! Allora!> The low, soothing quality of his voice gripped me with excitement.

<Father!> I cried, pushing myself into a full gallop for the final sprint home. There, at the entrance to our scoop, stood my father, solid and stern as always, but looking pleased. I reached him first, and we embraced, him taking my cheeks in his hands.

<Allora, how are you?> He asked, his eyes wide with joy.

<I am well, father.> I responded, pulling away so that he could embrace my sister as well. <How are you?>

<Now that I am home, I am wonderful,> father said, turning to lead the two of us into the scoop. My mother was waiting, looking as happy as any of us. I felt a deep contentment settle over me. It’s over. I thought happily, Whatever it is – it’s over.

We chatted animatedly late into that evening. My father was content to sit back and listen as Foresha and I told him all about school and the events that had occurred in his absence. At one point I asked him what it had been like on the Hork-Bajir world, but he stiffened and changed the subject. I did not make the mistake of bringing it up a second time.

<It’s wonderful that father is home at last.> I commented to Foresha after both of my parents had gone off to talk privately. I should have been tired, as it was very late, but my mind was wild with excitement.

<Yes, it is,> she agreed, <it will be nice having him around, even if it is only for a little bit.>

<What are you talking about?> I asked.

<Oh come now, Allora. Don’t be naïve. Father is still a warrior. A War-Prince. They will call him back to duty soon,> Foresha said. I sighed heavily. Of course I knew as much – it had been a similar story since I was too young to remember. Long absences interrupted with brief spurts of togetherness. We were never truly a family. Then again, in these war times that was the condition of more and more Andalites.

<What do you think happened with the Hork-Bajir?> I asked, even though we had had this exact conversation dozens if not hundreds of times by now. I didn’t want to think about my fathers inevitable departure, not when he had just arrived.

<I don’t know,> Foresha said, not indulging in the speculation for once. She seemed to be considering the matter seriously for the first time. <Something was wrong, though. Father barely talked tonight.>

<He never talks,> I protested.

<True. But not like this…he always pays such careful attention, but he was detached somehow.>

I thought back to the night. I had been so involved in impressing my father with my various successes – which were admittedly few and far between and never exceeded high marks in school – that I hadn’t paid proper attention to him. In hindsight, however, I had a vague image of his face, pleased to be sharing this moment with his family, yet somehow tense as well. And now that I was thinking about it, mother had been less talkative than usual as well.

<Mother knows.> I said tersely.

<Of course she does,> Faresha sighed with the arrogance only an older sister could possess. <She has been attending all of the trial meetings, hasn’t she?>

<True…> I relented, put off by my sisters superiority. I was about to go to sleep, putting the issue behind me, but I stopped suddenly, struck by an idea. Surely mother and father would never directly discuss the trial with us, but now that they both were home, what was to keep them from discussing it together?

<I’ll be back,> I said, turning hoof and trotting off in the direction my parents had gone. It wasn’t difficult to find them. They always went to the same spot when they wanted to talk alone. It was a place very similar to my own private spot, lined on only one side with trees and near a pleasantly gurgling stream. I was still out of their line of vision when I ducked behind the trees. I moved carefully through the foliage, trying not to make a sound. I didn’t have the same liquid grace as my mother, nor the military know-how of my father, but they were too absorbed to notice my approach.

My mother and my father stood facing one another, completely absorbed in the other. For a moment I felt supremely awkward, as if I was intruding on their intimate moment together. But then I saw my father’s defiant expression and I knew there was nothing romantic about it.

I couldn’t hear their conversation, of course. Even when they thought they were alone, my parents were careful to speak privately. I watched closely for any clue as my fathers expression shifted from defiance to guilt to stubborn aggression. My mothers own face remained smooth, although her eyes were accusing.

<I did what I had to!> My fathers voice suddenly tore through my mind, the emotion of his reaction causing him to lose control for a moment. His main eyes narrowed as he listened to my mothers response.

<You weren’t there, Jahar. You cannot begin to comprehend -> He paused, and based on my mothers wild gesticulations and the threatening way she held her tail I knew she had interjected.

<It is war,> father said, his voice trembling with contained rage, <Death is a necessity. If I did not kill them, then they would have all become hosts. Every one of them.>

<So it is true,> my mothers voice permeated my head for the first time. It was filled with such a deep sadness that my own hearts ached, despite my confusion.

<Jahar ->

<No, Alloran.> She turned away, moving lithely from his grasp, <not now. By tomorrow the Electorate will issue a public statement. What will you do then?>

I inched closer, sensing that I was about to learn something important. My mothers tone had taken on one of disgust. I listened closely to her, my mind attuned to every thought she let slip through to the public ear. In hindsight, I wished that I hadn't. Her next words took my breath away.

<What will you do, Alloran, when your children discover that their beloved father is the Butcher of the Hork-Bajir?>

[Terenia]

Chapter Three

<Look, there she is.>

<Do you think it’s really true?>

<I can’t believe she’s actually showing her face…>
The next day I walked to school with my head and tail held high, ignoring the stab of humiliation and rage I felt. My classmates didn’t bother to hide their comments with private thought-speak. No doubt they were hoping to provoke me into confirming the rumors. No, not even the rumors – the facts. Everyone knew that it was true – no one ever doubted the Electorate’s ruling.

The announcement had been worldwide, of course. The entire planet had been waiting anxiously for news on the Hork-Bajir world. The Electorate had released a live holographic report early that morning. I hadn’t watched it at first. I didn’t need to – I knew what it would say. If I had any doubt, my sisters shocked face when she emerged from the scoop told me well enough.

Eventually, however, my curiosity got the best of me, and I raced into the scoop to watch the announcement. I was alone as I played it back, and I was grateful that no one had to endure my pained expression.

<After formal Electorate review, the war for planet RG-021578-4, home of the sentient species known as Hork-Bajir the following results have been documented.> The Andalite who was running the correspondent was not an Electorate member, of course. He was an old Andalite whose fur had mostly tanned. Long ago, when my parents were young, he had been a prominent warrior during the peace times -as odd as that sounds- and in his old age he had become a mediator between the Electorate and the People.

<The Yeerks have seized full control over the planet, destroying most of its ecosystem with a biological weapon known as a quantum virus.> I caught my breath at this. A quantum virus was one of the most deadly biological weapons known. It could be engineered to eradicate any species, and it was brutal and unstoppable.

<War-Prince and Commander Alloran-Semitur-Corass-> I stiffened excitedly at the sound of my fathers name <-made the decision to remove Andalite troops when he thought that the war was lost. He made this decision without Electorate consent and based solely on his own judgment. As a result, the Yeerks were afforded free reign over a still salvageable planet. As a result of his insubordination, War-Prince Alloran-Semitur-Corass is hereby disgraced.>

The old Andalite warrior continued to prattle on statistics and figures from the war, but I did not hear. All I could think about was that one word, said with such finality. Disgraced. There was nothing worse in the Andalite military hierarchy. Even aristh’s were treated with more respect than the disgraced. My father would be lucky to ever see the inside of a ship again.

What was worse was the fact that I knew that wasn’t the entire story. Even then, as young as I was and as naïve of the military as I was, I knew that warriors weren’t disgraced for poor judgment. They were reprimanded, temporarily relieved from duty, or demoted. But disgraced? No. There was an underlying message in the broadcast. Something else had happened on the Hork-Bajir world. Something that the Electorate did not want the people to know about.

I had always idolized my father. It was an easy thing to do, since he was rarely around. Certainly I realized that he had faults, but I never experienced them. Mother used to tell me stories about when they were young together. She painted a picture of a young, free-spirited Andalite who loved to laugh. I had always given them about as much credence as fairy tales. My father’s particular brand of perfection was that of a stone monument. He was often cold and untouchable – but never unkind. He would never knowingly sacrifice an entire species unless there was absolutely no other option.

I felt the first dredges of anger well up inside of me. My father had done the best he could. The Electorate hadn’t been there – on a planet far from home, in the middle of a war. How could they say he had made the wrong decision? How could they predict what would have happened had the Andalite force stayed? The Electorate, I realized firmly, was wrong.

I did not voice this opinion, of course. To do so would get me in as much trouble as my father. However, I did seethe silently that entire day, ignoring the jabs of my classmates. Some of the more mature students gave me looks of sympathy. They too knew that there was more to the story than met the eye. I ignored them. I did not want pity, or mockery. I did not care what my peers thought. I just wanted to fix it. To make the world see that my father was not a cruel man, ill-fitted to be a warrior. That his decisions were made in the best interest of everyone involved. I just wanted to make things right again.

That night there was little conversation. I was certain that mother and father were talking to one another privately, but I did not try to intervene as I would have a day or two ago. I was lost in my own thoughts. I could go to the Electorate, prove to them that my dad was a good person, and they would admit their error. I would find a way to track down the Yeerks and capture one, only to have him admit in his dying moments that my father was innocent. I shook my head of these fantasies. That’s all they were. Fantasy.

<Allora?> I realized that my father had been calling me. I looked up at him guiltily.

<Allora, would you and your sister please come with me?> He asked. We both nodded respectfully and followed him out of the scoop. The night was mild and breezy – a good night for running. I fought the urge to gallop away to my private spot, instead walking slowly behind my father, who kept his stalk eyes trained on Foresha and myself as he moved with the quiet dignity of his rank. There was only the slightest slouch in the way he carried himself to indicate the weight of his disgrace. I knew that it must be taking a much larger internal toll on him.

<Your mother does not think that you should have heard the announcement this morning.> Father said, breaking the silence at last.

<We would have found out at school.> I pointed out.

<Yes, that is what I told her. Jahar…she worries.> There was a trace of a smile in his thoughts, and he seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.

<Father?> Foresha prodded. My father sighed heavily and turned to face us. Standing there, with the moonlight falling on the contours of his body he seemed almost like one of the mythical gods of ancient Andalite religions. His blue fur gave off a metallic glow, and his gaze was penetrating. I shivered slightly, afraid of my father for the first time in my life. But then he spoke, and the illusion was broken by his soft tone.

<I want you children to know that I did everything I could to save the Hork-Bajir,> he began, <I know that the Electorate thinks I made a bad decision and…well, maybe I did, but regardless that decision did slow down the Yeerks.>

<But I thought -> I began, but my father held up a hand to silence me. Hadn’t the Electorate said that my fathers decision had hastened the Yeerk attack, not slowed it?

<Sometimes you need to make difficult decisions in life. Now I hope that you never have to make the sorts of decisions that I have had to make, but I want you to make me a promise.>

<Yes, of course father,> Foresha said quickly, almost as eager for his approval as I was.

<I want you to promise me that you will never enter the military,> Alloran said.

<But females aren’t even allowed in the military, father,> I protested. What a silly promise to make!

<Not now, they aren’t,> Father agreed, <but in a war, sometimes you must put away your old values and make changes. It will not be long before we need more troops, and when we run out of young capable men, the Electorate will turn to the women.>

That thought chilled me to the bone. I had, of course, had my fantasies about fighting glorious battles against the Yeerks and ending the war once and for all. Every young Andalite did. But I had done it safely within the knowledge that I never would be faced with such a situation. I was female – my place was far from the battlefield. Would all of that change?

<Promise me. On your honor.> My father said, his main eyes felt as if they were boring into my very soul.

<Of course father,> Foresha said quickly.

<Allora?> Father prompted. I thought about my fantasies earlier that day – of killing the Yeerks who had caused my father such a disgrace. Of tearing them from their hosts as they screamed and squirmed, then standing proudly over their decimated bodies. Of being revered by the Electorate as my father was returned to his rightful place in the military hierarchy. Of course, one wrong decision could turn me into a disgrace myself.

<Yes father,> I said, putting aside my foolish fantasy, <I promise.>



A/N: Just so that everyone knows, yes I am aware that the Andalites are responsible for the quantum virus, not the Yeerks. But do you think the Electorate wants everyone to know that? It’s easier to blame the enemy, don’t you think?

[esplin]

did this ever get finished?

[Terenia]

Um....there's about three/four chapters left for me to write. I've been slow. Sorry! I have a three day weekend coming up, so maybe I'll finish it then?

[esplin]

You know youre not gonna

[Terenia]

I'll try real hard, I promise!!!

[esplin]

Well I promise I'll read anything you write :] I'm your biggest fanboy

[Terenia]

I'm posting chapter four below.

For those of you following this fanfic on ff.net I just published chapter twenty-four and expect to finish the fic after two more chapters.

Chapter Four

Having my father around more often proved to be an interesting experience. Everything about him fascinated me, from the way he ran with his tail held high to the far-off look in his eyes when he was lost in thought, as he so often was these days. Disgrace had not been kind to my father. He continued to do what out of the way, minor job the military sent him. For the most part he had been reduced to an errand runner. He would spend a few days at a time working at one of the nearby space ports, only to return for weeks. He was not asked to return to space.

For awhile I had hoped that the passage of time would ease the pain and ridicule that came with having a disgraced father. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Foresha, who had lost many of her friends, finished her schooling in record time and began to train as a biologist – one of the most isolated professions possible. My once popular sister had not done well with the derision. She became almost as withdrawn as my father himself, and that bothered me. At least father had a reason to brood. Foresha did not. She could easily pick up and move to another area, and no one could connect her with the disgraced War-Prince who had lost an entire race to the Yeerks. Unlike me.

Even complete strangers had a habit of looking at me with pity the moment they heard my name. I hated it passionately. Yes, yes I was the daughter of War-Prince Alloran. Alloran the disgraced. I felt like screaming at their condescending faces, announcing that it didn’t matter if my father was a disgrace. That I loved him anyways, and that he was still a great warrior. And if they had a problem with it, they could just go tail to tail with me and we’d see who was sorry. I felt like slashing their heads off and seeing who was to be pitied. But, of course, I didn’t.

Mother had always told me that I had inherited father’s temper and just enough of her restraint to make it tolerable. I just wished that I had inherited my mother’s ability to adapt. She had dealt with the situation remarkably well. For some time there had been obvious tension within our little family. But over time, that tension eased and my parents were my parents again. They were almost happy.

Almost, if it weren’t for the way my father stared at the sky longingly each night. Almost, if it weren’t for the way he seemed so eager to leave when he was called to the station. As if maybe, maybe they would assign him a task worthwhile. Almost, if it weren’t for the look of disappointment he tried to hide each time he returned from the mundane tasks they had set him to. The subversive “almost” overtook our entire lives, and when it lifted it was as if a miracle had occurred.

It was a particularly beautiful afternoon and I was taking my time in returning from school. Father was supposed to be returning from the station today, and as happy as I would be to see him, I was not eager to see the disappointment in his eyes. So I wandered slowly, pausing to take a drink from a nearby stream, greeting my Garibah, and generally procrastinating.

When I finally arrived at our scoop the sun was setting and I instantly regretted my hesitance to return. Mother and father were talking privately together in the sunlight, and even though I could not hear their words I could sense the energy surrounding my father. He seemed to snap and crackle with electricity. His tail was held twice as high as usual and he looked, for the first time in years, as if he had a purpose.

<Mother? Father?> I inquired, approaching them. They broke away from their conversation and looked at me.

<Good afternoon, Allora. How was school?> My mother asked, trying to sound casual. But I could hear a strain in her voice. Unlike the excitement radiating from my father, she was worried.

<Fine. We’re working on n-dimensional geometry.> I said with a small smile. I didn’t mention that I was top in the class. I didn’t like to brag, and there were more important matters anyhow, <What’s going on?>

My parents exchanged a look, and I knew they were deciding whether or not to tell me something. I waited impatiently, twitching my tail as I waited.

<Don’t do that, dear,> My mother scolded gently, <It’s unbecoming.>

<Sorry.> I grumbled, stilling my tail. As if I cared about how I presented myself. <Will you please tell me what is happening? I have a right to know.>

<Yes, yes. Alright.> Mother said, glancing at her husband. He inclined his stalk eyes in a ‘go on’ gesture.

<Allora, your father received an assignment from the Electorate.> she said, and I heard the worry more pronounced than before.

<What sort of an assignment?> I asked, looking up at my father. He was practically glowing, his metallic blue fur catching the sun impressively. It was as if he were a different Andalite.

<They are asking me to serve aboard the Dome ship StarSword. The ship is assigned to hunt down a Yeerk task force,> my father said. He did his best to remain neutral as he delivered the news, but his true feelings were obvious. This was my fathers chance to return to space, to return to the war.

To save his name.

<That's wonderful!> I cried enthusiastically. I was truly happy for my father. I felt a small pang of sadness that my father would be leaving us for much longer than a few days, but I pushed the emotion aside. He would return, as he always had, and when he did everything would be okay again. His disgrace would be revoked and his honor restored. That omnipresent ‘almost’ would disappear forever.

<When do you leave?> I asked, eager for his restoration to glory to begin.

<Tomorrow morning, before you wake,> my father replied, and I could tell that his mind was on a similar path as mine. He didn’t want to waste any time. I sighed with something close to relief. Finally, this nightmare was going to end. Father smiled and put one hand on mother’s shoulder, wrapping his other arm around my waist, hugging me close in a rare moment of intimacy. We watched the sun as it finally sank below the horizon. I leaned my cheek against my fathers powerful body.

His eyes were on the stars.

Post Merged: February 21, 2010, 06:58:51 PM

Chapter Five

It seemed as though my father's absence was more pronounced this time than any other. I had grown accustomed to his presence, something which I had never had the luxury of doing in my younger years. With him gone, and Foresha pursuing her studies, our home scoop felt strangely barren. For the first time it was just myself and mother. Unfortunately, as my mother has often reminded me, I was my father's daughter through and through. As a result, the two of us struggled to relate and fought often. To avoid conflict I spent more time alone than ever.

We did, however, spend a precious few moments together each week when father was permitted time to communicate with us. It was a luxury afforded to War-Princes, even those who had been disgraced. So every week my mother and I would crowd around the holo-projector and eagerly await an update.

<Jahar, Allora, how are you?> He always started the conversations the same way. He wanted to hear about us, our lives, rather than share his own experiences aboard the Dome Ship. Whenever one of us asked about his mission he would smile and tell us that he was not authorized to release that information. After a few beloved minutes with my father I would be instructed to leave, giving my parents time to talk alone together.

The first few transmissions were lively. I could tell that my father was thrilled simply for the opportunity to be in space once more. That metallic glow that had possessed him on his last night on the Homeworld carried through to his first few weeks aboard the StarSword. Of course, all good things must come to an end.

I'm not sure whether it was the tedium of space travel or the treatment he received from warriors who were supposed to be below him, but slowly his holo-messages grew more dreary and withdrawn. His words were the same, but his attention was not there. He was distracted, brooding, more like he had been during his long stay at home after his disgrace. His trip to space was not going as he had hoped. His faded energy reminded me of my own duty to erase the ever-present scar over our family.

His transmissions began to come less frequently. He would skip a week, then two weeks. Sometimes he would send a simple recorded message, sending his love. My father was fading once more.

I put all of my energies into school. I was nearing the end of my studies and would soon choose a specialization. It was a delicate decision. I needed something that would allow me to prove that the name 'Alloran', or in my case, 'Allora', was not shameful. I needed to return honor to my family. I quickly realized that there was only one way to achieve this. I needed to enter the war.

I had promised my father that I would not become a warrior. It was a promise I planned to uphold. Besides that, females were still not allowed in the military, despite my fathers warning. So I had to look to the sciences.

I was not interested in biology or chemistry. Biology would limit me to my own or alien worlds, documenting various fauna. Boring. Chemistry would allow me more freedom of movement, and I could easily find a place amongst a space-faring ship, but I was not very accomplished with mixing various chemicals. The results were often disastrous.

I was rather astute when it came to mathematical equations. My analysis of the zero-space continuum had received excellent marks and my understanding of computer components was superb. I found myself naturally gravitating towards exo-datology. Computers were universally required in today's age, and allowed me endless opportunities. If I played my cards right, then I might even be able to secure myself a spot aboard a Dome Ship. I knew mother wouldn't approve, but that didn't matter to me. Somehow, I had to make her understand. This war meant more to me than a simple issue of Andalites vs. Yeerks. It had been my fathers undoing – it would be my opportunity for redemption.

<Mother?> I asked. It was late, and we were both preparing to settle down for the night. I had been twitchy and on edge all day, trying to figure out how to tell my mother my plans. She was very much against the idea of any of her children going into space after what it had done to her husband. It would be difficult to convince her that it was necessary.

<Yes, dear?> My mother asked, looking up from her computer console. She was composing. My mother creates the background music and choreography for the newest form of entertainment: morph dancing. I suppose morph dancing is beautiful, although I always found it a little disturbing. Foresha had always been fascinated by the process of shifting from one form to the other, but the very thought left my stomach in knots.

<Um…> I pulled my mind from thoughts of estreens and focused on the task at hand. <Well, as you know, I am almost done with my general studies at school. I need to pick a specialty.>

<Yes, of course.> Mother's full attention was on me now. No doubt she was remembering her joy when Foresha had decided to be a biologist here on the Homeworld. Space had never been on my sisters agenda, and I knew mother hoped it wasn't on mine. <Have you decided on a specialty?>

<Yes.> I said, trying to push my doubts aside. I would have a much better chance at receiving my mothers blessing if I sounded confident. <I think…no, I know I want to go into-> I couldn't help a cringe <-exodatology.>

My mother was very silent for a long while as she allowed that to sink in. Exodatologists were notorious for spending time aboard spacecraft, although they did have uses here on the homeworld as well, of course.

<Well that's…that's wonderful Allora.> My mother said, a forced look of pleasure on her face, <You'll be working at one of the space stations, I presume?>

<No.> I shook my head. This was the hard part. <No, mother. I want to work aboard one of the ships. A Dome Ship.>

<Allora, you promised your father ->

<I promised him that I would not be a warrior. And I won't.> I insisted, <I'm not entering the military, technically. I'll simply be an analyst. Trust me, mother, you have nothing to worry about.>

<But Allora, the dangers->

I cut my mother off a second time, <I know what the dangers are. But I have to do this.>

<No, you don't.> My mother said softly, looking pained.

<Yes, mother, I do. I wish I didn't, but I really do,> I dropped my stalk eyes apologetically and an awkward silence fell over us. I could tell that my mother was fighting an internal struggle between allowing me to make my own choices and keeping me safe.

<Allora.> She said finally, and I could tell from her tone that she was going to give me some sort of ultimatum. She never had a chance to finish her thought, though. There was a loud beep which cut through our conversation. The holo-emitter.

Mother and I exchanged a confused look. We weren't expecting to hear from father for a few more weeks. He had been sent off ship on some transport mission. It couldn't be Foresha, we had just seen her earlier that day. No one else ever contacted us. So who…?

<Open channel.> My mother ordered, turning her attention to the emitter. She kept a wary stalk eye on me, as if she were afraid I would run away and never return. But I was rooted to the ground, just as curious as my overly cautious mother.

<Jahar.> The image that appeared was an older Andalite. A War-Prince who I knew by sight, but not by name. He had often been to our scoop before my fathers disgrace. A friend who was no more. What did he want with us?

<War-Prince Semilan.> My mother said, her voice stiff. Obviously she had not forgotten how he disappeared either. <What can I do for you?>

<Jahar, you need to report to the Electorate Headquarters immediately,> Semilan's voice was urgent, almost panicked. Looking closer I could see that his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

<What's wrong?> mother asked, her tone shifting dramatically. You didn't just get called to see the Electorate for no reason. The last time they had involved themselves with our family was after the Hork-Bajir incident…what could it be now?

<I can't tell you that, Jahar,> Semilan said, looking sincerely apologetic, <but you need to come immediately.>

<Is it Alloran?> mother asked, her skin pale beneath her tanning purple fur, <is he...did he...> I felt my insides run cold. Could something horrible have happened to my father?

<Just hurry.> Semilan said, his face grim. His holographic eyes refocused behind Jahar. On me. <Is that Allora? My, she's grown….bring her as well. And Foresha. Everyone needs to be here for this.>

<Semilan, please!> My mother pleaded, <just let me know if he's alive!>

<I can't. I'm sorry Jahar,> Semilan said, and from the look in his eyes I sensed that his apology extended deeper than his inability to relay information. <I am truly sorry.>