Chapter 29 (Marco)
I couldn't look at her. Rachel. Yet not Rachel. I couldn't look at either of them. The Hork-Bajir or the human. One was only a memory, the other an empty shell.
And yet, Jake was eager to go through with this. Far too eager. How could he not see how wrong this was? Was he really that messed up over Rachel's death, that he would go this far to bring her back? It was wrong. This whole situation was so far past wrong.
Jake was insane. And not just the kind of insane that I always used to joke about before going on a bad mission. I mean really insane. The kind you go to an asylum for. I think he'd actually, finally just lost it. The mental strain of having even a tiny ray of hope, after there had been none, seemed to have broken whatever sense of right and wrong he'd still had left after the war.
But I didn't say anything about it. I couldn't. I was the minority, here. Tobias and Cassie may not have been as delusional as Jake was, but they all wanted Rachel back for their own reasons. Ax was the only one still on my side.
And Rachel? I could tell that she thought this was wrong, too. I had heard the hesitation in her voice when she'd agreed to it. But she was still going to go along with it.
Can't say I blame her. When it comes down to it, everyone would rather live than die.
That doesn't always make it right, though.
I watched in cold silence as we all gathered around Rachel, who had finally been freed of the Arn's force field. Ax and I stayed back from the rest of the group, an unspoken agreement between us that we would not have any part in what was about to happen.
As they made the final preparations, Quahyliera reminded Rachel to be sure that she went towards the right body, and Rachel hesitantly nodded.
The shell of Rachel's body was just beginning to stir, ever so slightly, as it began to come back to consciousness. We had dressed it in a spare morphing suit, and laid it down in front of Rachel.
I hoped it didn't wake up before this was all over. Seeing the shell of Rachel's body, alive and confused and afraid, gave me the willies.
We all watched, as Quahyliera held out the bottle that Rachel's Ixcila would return to before it could enter her new body. Watched as Nenan slumped slightly and shook his head, once again free within his own mind. The liquid in Quahyliera's bottle turned red, then faded to a brilliant gold when Rachel's essence was returned to the liquid inside the bottle.
That sent yet another chill down my spine. The thought of Rachel, trapped inside that bottle. What must it be like, I wondered, to know that you are nothing except your own thoughts and memories swimming around in a few drops of chemicals?
Not a pleasant thought.
Fortunately, it didn't last for long. Next thing I knew, the Arn was chanting, "We call on Rachel Berenson," over and over, her voice imbued with all of the force of will that she possessed. The unconscious thing that looked like Rachel jerked involuntarily, and then moaned, as if in pain. Not a human sound, but a strange, animal moan. Then it seemed to be fighting to regain consciousness, almost as though it was trapped in a nightmare.
Finally, with a sudden start, her eyes burst open, and I could see that Rachel was in command of the mind.
There was no taking it back now. For better or for worse, Rachel was back.
Jake smiled with smug satisfaction, and clapped the new Rachel on the shoulder. "Welcome back, cousin," he said, offering a hand to help her up.
She looked troubled, but rose to her feet and said, "It's good to be back," a shaky, fake smile on her face.
We said our goodbyes to Quahyliera, and prepared to leave for earth. With Rachel's return to her own body, there was nothing more to keep us here. We had destroyed the Yeerks' main base, and the Blade Ship would soon leave the planet if it hadn't already.
And besides, what could we do to stop the Blade Ship? Nothing. The one fighter we'd had, Ax's ship, had been destroyed. Even if the Blade Ship was still here, it's not like there was anything we could do about it.
I was actually a little happy about that. I'd already lived through one nearly-hopeless battle today, and I was glad to have the excuse not to wade into another. I knew that the Blade Ship was a loose end, and one that we would have to tie up before things got out of hand again, but I didn't want to deal with that today. There would be another chance. Maybe. Hopefully.
Before we left her cave, the cave which had been practically our home for these past few days, Quahyliera humbly bowed before our group and said, "Thank you, Animorphs. Even though you have not accomplished all you hoped to, you have freed my people. I am confident that the Yeerks will take their plans elsewhere after their defeat here. The Arn will not be slaves again. My people will be free! So, know that your efforts were not in vain. The Arn are in your debt. Remember this if ever you need anything that is within our power to give."
Jake bowed back and said, "And thank you, Quahyliera. Because of your help with our mission, we are a step closer to a defeat of the Yeerks. We may not have defeated them today, but, thanks to your bravery, that defeat may now be possible."
I rolled my eyes and groaned. Jake was being way more polite than he needed to be. Quahyliera was an arrogant little pain in the butt who only helped us when it served her own purposes.
But then again, I thought, she might make a powerful ally one day, when it came time to call in the favor she had offered us. If that day ever came.
As the seven of us, the Animorphs plus Erek, climbed up and out of the Arn city, we could still see wisps of smoke coming from the cave we had destroyed. We climbed up and over the edge of the cliff, and set out across the tilted, foggy plains that separated the valley above from the cliffs below.
I groaned inwardly as I realized that the only transport we still had was the ship that had brought Jake and Erek and me here. And that ship was not meant to carry seven people. Particularly not four humans, an Andalite, a hawk, and an android.
It was going to be a long, long ride.
I was the one to lead the way to where the ship was hidden. It was my ship, after all. As we approached, the Andalite pilot, dutifully waiting for us, raised his tail in an Andalite salute, and boarded the ship while it was still cloaked (how he found the door, I have no idea). He de-cloaked it for us, and we filed aboard.
I was right. There was not room for the seven of us. Rachel and Jake and I got the three chairs, but Erek and Cassie had to sit on the floor. Tobias perched on Rachel's shoulder, and Ax just tried to keep the blade of his tail out of the way and tried not to step on Erek or Cassie every time the ship lurched.
I would have thought that we would have no end of things to talk about. I mean, Rachel was back from the dead, and the seven of us were together and not facing imminent battle for the first time in years.
Yet, for the first several hours of our journey, the ship was dead quiet. Everyone was drained, exhausted, from hopeless battles fought against an enemy we thought we had conquered long ago. And with so much to think about, everyone just seemed to want to stare out the windows, all of us lost in our own thoughts.
Suddenly, desperately, I only wanted to be home again. Home, where nothing mattered except video games and billionaire sponsors and beautiful women.
But . . . no. I even if I returned home, I could never go back to that. That was a whole different life, a life that I might never be able to return to. A life that I was never meant to have, no matter how badly I wanted it. Because, see, none of it had been real in the first place. It had all been a trick, a mask behind which the reality I had tried to escape from still lurked.
Yeah, screw you too, irony gods.
Of course, I'd never been one for self-pity. No point in wishing for things to be any way other than how they were. So I tried to turn my mind to other thoughts.
But then I happened to glance at Rachel. Her presence was a jarring sight, even now. To see someone who you had watched die, had mourned for years, and then finally came to accept their death . . . to see her just sitting there, as alive as ever . . . it was more than a little unsettling.
Out of all the emotions I would have expected to feel at seeing her alive again, anger would have been the last one I would have thought I would feel. And yet, I'd fought her restoration to life. Resisted it furiously and passionately. Fought against it, argued against it. Even put my friendship with Jake on the line because of it.
Was I mad at her? Yes, maybe a little, in that irrational part of my mind that existed beyond reason. But I knew I couldn't blame her for this. None of this was her fault.
It was Jake's fault. Jake had killed her. Jake had been unable to take that awful blame. Jake had been so determined to bring her back at any cost, not caring what boundaries he crossed. He, and he alone, had created this awful mockery of what Rachel had once been.
I sighed in helpless frustration, and that soft breath was enough to catch Rachel's attention in the thick silence. I closed my eyes and shook my head, not wanting to look at her, and quickly turned my attention back to the blank white of Z-space outside the window. I felt her eyes on me for another second or two, but then she returned to her own thoughts, leaving me to mine.
