Salem's Story

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Winston. Emelen. Morphing. Should be fun.

[spoiler=Chapter 18]Winston

Winston carelessly tossed the ARC he’d received into the corner, where it landed on top of a pile of random stuff, sending the artifacts of a hundred worlds sliding down in a mini avalanche as the ship’s ramp slid shut behind them.

“Why are they always like that?” he asked disgustedly, not particularly caring if he was answered.

Since Emelen had used his blue cube to give him the ability to ‘morph,’ all he had to do in order to take in the DNA of any animal was touch that animal and concentrate on it, a process Emelen called acquiring. According to Emelen, he would then be able to become any acquired creature at any time in the future. Their trip to the Andalite homeworld had technically been successful, in that he’d managed to acquire a number of morphs. It had been less successful in that a day of being looked down upon and belittled by the quadruped grasseaters had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

<I apologize,> said Emelen in response. His eyes were wide as he scanned the contents of Winston’s ship. <The Andalite people are prideful and seclusive for a reason.>

“They can be all that without being ****s about everything, too,” muttered Winston bitterly, plopping onto the floor and beginning to untie his shoes.

Al sighed, a smirk on his face, and looked to Emelen. “So, which thing did you want him to turn into?”

<Traditionally, our cadets will morph the djabala for training purposes, but I believe Winston may be more suited to the kafit morph,> responded Emelen. <Forgive me, but I have never seen a collection of technologies like yours, and your ship itself is… incredible.> He eyed the pile of junk, then quirked a stalk eye at Winston. <May I…?>

“Knock yourself out. Just put everything back where you found it,” said Winston as he pulled off his shoes and tossed them haphazardly across the room. “It’s a very precise system of organization.”

Emelen laughed and moved easily towards the largest pile. He began picking up one item at a time, examining each carefully, and then setting each back down before moving methodically to the next.

“You sure I have to be naked for this?” wondered Winston.

Emelen turned a stalk eye towards him, <I think so, yes. Andalites require specially-designed weapons harnesses for use while morphing. I believe it would be difficult or impossible to morph without ruining your artificial skin.>

“Designer artificial skin. I have got to teach you Andalites some fashion sense,” muttered Al.

<What?>

“Nothing. Which one was the kafit? That was the bird thing, right?” asked Al.

<Yes,> said Emelen. <Many arisths see the morphing of the kafit almost as a right of passage, the point at which one becomes a professional morpher.>

“Well, I’ve never wanted anything more than to become a professional morpher,” muttered Winston, pulling off the last of his clothes. He stood, unselfconscious and unclothed, and looked at Emelen with his hands on his hips. “Okay, how do I do this?”

Emelen began, <It’s actually very similar to the acquiring process, in that...>

“So he’s got to pretend he’s not doing anything suspicious while a bunch of Warriors each keep three eyes on him because he’s the offworlder?” interrupted Al, in a tone that was mockingly innocent. When Winston and Emelen turned to look, he folded his hands in his lap and fluttered his eyelashes.

Emelen smirked at him before continuing, <The concentration you need is very similar. Oh!> he pulled a contraption that appeared to be essentially a tangle of wires and rubber balls from the pile and began untangling it. <Just choose one of the creatures you acquired. Picture it in your mind, concentrate, and you will be able to become that creature.>

Winston nodded and swallowed. In spite of how exciting this was, he found himself nervous at the prospect of losing his own body, even temporarily. It was, after all, the only body he’d ever known, and he was very tense.

“Dude, relax,” said Al, drawing out the word ‘relax’ in a way that suggested that he himself was, in fact, quite relaxed. “He said it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m not worried about it hurting,” snapped Winston, then winced-- he sounded very worried. He closed his eyes and mentally considered the four animals he’d acquired. He decided he agreed with Emelen-- the kafit bird, with its six pairs of wings, would definitely be the one that suited him best.

As he held the image of the kafit in his mind, he felt the changes begin-- the first and most noticeable of these was that he began shrinking. It was a jolting sensation, a little like falling, and he yelped an opened his eyes. The shrinking slowed and stopped, leaving him maybe two thirds as tall as he’d been, but still otherwise fully human.

“Wow. I think we should have tried this years ago,” said Al, grinning in amusement. “You’d be much more manageable at that height.”

“Shut up,” muttered Winston, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of this situation.

“Being short makes him angry!” Al whispered to Emelen in a stage whisper, intentionally loud enough for Winston to overhear.

Emelen laughed, his strange stringy contraption dangling forgotten from his right hand, and then trained his main eyes on Winston again expectantly. Winston sighed and closed his eyes, trying to regain his concentration. Almost immediately, his nose began to bulge outward, carrying his cheeks and chin and mouth with it. His bones lengthened and stretched, and his skin hardened as it became the serrated, spear-like beak of the kafit.

“Ugh,” Al supplied insightfully. Winston opened his eyes and shot him a glare, and found himself staring over the top of an impossibly huge beak, a beak that was now shrinking with him. Along his sides and back, he could feel flaps of skin lifting, and muscle and bone beginning to worm its way inside of these flaps, turning them into wings

<An estreen is one who has a talent for making the morphing process beautiful,> Emelen said informatively, wearing that smirk of his, <but the Andalites do not yet have a word for the opposite of that.>

Winston tried to return a witty reply that would really put them in their places, but it turned out a giant beak wasn’t really meant for speaking, so all that came out was a high pitched “Shrah-kawp,” more bird than Human.

His skeletal structure needed to change almost completely in order to become that of the bird, and his bones shuffled around under his skin, jostling for position even as they changed shape and size, some of them simply melting away into nothing. His entire body sounded like the gurgling of an upset stomach, but somehow the process wasn’t painful. By this point, the shrinking was all but complete, and Winston found himself staring at the world from about knee height. The ship seemed much larger from this angle. His legs shriveled to the legs of the kafit and his posture bent forward without his thinking about it, a tail lengthening out behind him just slowly enough that he couldn’t keep his balance, and fell onto his face as his arms disappeared. He struggled back to his feet using his head and beak-- an easier task than he’d have expected. He weighed so much less now than he was used to.

Finally, the kafit’s brilliant plumage erupted from his skin, beginning from the top of his head, replacing his hair, and then cascading down his body, covering the heretofore-featherless wings and flowering across his torso and continuing on down past the end of his fleshy nub of a tail, stretching into the kafit’s impressively long tail-feathers.

“Okay, that was actually pretty cool,” said Al.

Winston looked around-- the kafit’s eyes had replaced his own, leaving him seeing the world in a different set of colors than he was used to. His sense of smell had all but disappeared, but his hearing seemed to be drastically improved- he could hear Emelen’s every breath.

What he really wanted to do was to hunt, to go out and find a nice tall tree and spear the small creatures that lived inside with his beak and snap them up, but there were no trees here, and he found himself looking around boredly.

Suddenly: movement! The four-legged creature to his right was moving slowly towards him, and there was a sound in his head! It was going to attack him! He had to fly! Had to fly away!

Winston unfurled his many wings and flapped for his life, struggling to gain altitude in the stagnant air. There was something blocking the sky! He couldn’t go up! He flew frantically around the outer edges of the little area, but there seemed to be no way out, no way to reach the sky!

There was a second one of the creatures, a two-legged one, and this one was making a loud noise as well! It was coming after him! These two things would kill him and eat him and that would be the end of him! His hearts beat faster, pumping more and more blood into his rapidly-flapping wings, and he shrieked fearfully and flew, high, low, around and around, looking for any way out. No sky! No sky! He was trapped! Trapped in a little box with two huge things that would surely kill him and eat him!

Well then, if he couldn’t find a way to escape these things, these things that wouldn’t stop making loud, threatening noises and coming after him, he was just going to have to fight his way out of here. The two-legged creature didn’t have the huge, threatening blade that the four-legged one did. He’d take out that one first.

He turned his beak towards the thing’s eyes and powered forward, all wings flapping full-tilt. The thing shrieked in rage or fear or surprise and ducked out of the way at the last minute, and he found himself circling around, the four-legged creature coming into view.

With a shriek of rage, he powered forward, aiming for its big, green eyes, but the blade! He’d forgotten the blade! It flashed forward, turning sideways at the last second and slowing, cancelling most of its momentum, but it still impacted him, hard, and sent him spinning to the ground, where he lay, dazed.

After a few moments, he became aware of a voice in his head. It was saying, <Are you okay? I’m sorry I had to do that. Are you okay?>

He groaned and tried to speak, to answer, but all that came out of his mouth were the garbled squawks of a bird.

“Try the thought-speech thing,” suggested a voice. Al’s voice. That was Al speaking. How had he forgotten that the two in here with him were Emelen and Al.

<So that’s what you meant when you said I’d also get the animal’s mind,> he said dryly, trying to focus on something… anything… but his vision still swam. On the upside, using thought-speech while in morph proved to be remarkably simple.

<Yes,> responded Emelen. <I’m sorry. I should have explained better. It’s necessary to have the animal’s mind and instincts in order to coordinate with the animal’s body, but sometimes those instincts can be a little… overwhelming.>

<Yeah,> agreed Winston. In his mind, he could still feel the kafit’s panic, but he had more control over it now. He tried to stretch his wings, but a horrible pain shot through his left side. <Aaaugh!>

“Looks like you’ve got a couple broken wings,” said Al, leaning down next to him. “So much for the kafit morph.”

<It will be whole again next time he uses it,> said Emelen, staring down at Winston with concern, <but for now I think it would be best for him to demorph.>

Winston groaned again, <Same as morphing?>

Emelen smiled with a mixture of concern and warmth, <It is the same process, yes. Just picture your Human self.>

Winston did, and three minutes later he stood, whole and wholly Human, flexing his left arm. It was hard to believe that that arm had been several broken wings only a short time ago.

<I think you’ve got the hang of it,> said Emelen.

“Sure,” muttered Winston, but even though his tone was gruff, his face was bright. That had been exhilarating.

<Only a few more things. Firstly, I think you should acquire an Andalite. The Andalite shape is remarkably useful and well-adapted for a number of situations.>

“Oh, I get it!” chirped Al. “Does he get to acquire your badass tattoos, too?”

<My… what?> wondered Emelen.

“Your thingies,” said Al helpfully, waving a hand to indicate the black pattern that crisscrossed Emelen’s fur.

<Oh, my luanga,> laughed Emelen. <Unfortunately, no.>

Winston rolled his eyes and placed a hand on Emelen’s shoulder. “May I?”

<Of course,> responded Emelen, and within moments, his stalk eyes had drooped, and it looked as though he were almost asleep. He’d entered the acquiring trance. That had also happened to every creature Winston had acquired on the homeworld. Emelen’s DNA flowed into him. Moments later, the Andalite’s alertness returned, and the pair smiled at each other briefly. After a moment, Winston cleared his throat and looked away.

<Secondly, if this is what I think it is,> Emelen said, holding up the stringy contraption he’d found. It seemed to have been mostly untangled, so that it formed a net-like structure composed of short lengths of reddish-gold wire held together by tiny orbs, <I would like to offer to let you keep the Escafil device in exchange.>

Winston frowned at the thing. Where the hell had he picked that up again? “That depends,” he responded carefully, “What do you think it is?”

<I think you’re getting the better end of this deal,> responded Emelen with his trademark smirk.

Winston sighed. He’d never been able to figure out what the stringy contraption did anyway, and the prospect of actually owning the morphing cube was too sweet to pass up. This Andalite was unlike anyone else he’d ever dealt with. “What’s the catch?”

<No catch,> replied Emelen, in the tone that Winston had heard a thousand times before. The tone that said ‘there is definitely a catch.’ <I do have a favor to ask, however.>

Winston snorted, “Yeah, I thought you might.”[/spoiler]

[Aluminator (Kit)]

[spoiler=Chapter 19]Pallas

Threecra groaned in frustration and forced herself off her bunk. Just lying there, staring at her reflection, was driving her insane. She couldn’t stand the waiting, the anticipation. She couldn’t stop her thoughts from running rampant, and thinking too much was making her feel sick to her stomach. Better to get up and go do something to occupy her mind.

With a groan, she pushed herself to her feet. She could feel the exhaustion to her bones. She’d hardly slept at all in days, even with the draught Peter had given her, and when she had slept, it had been anything but restful. Too many dreams.

Shaking her head, she wandered out into the corridor. She could hear raucous laughter echoing from the ship’s mess hall, which, at this time of the evening, was probably where most of the crew would be gathered. Normally she’d have joined them, but over the last few days she simply hadn’t been able to find the energy. Instead, today, she avoided it by taking the back entrance to the kitchen.

There was a large pot of something on the stove, and judging by how greasy it looked and how sweet it smelled, it’d been the Captain’s turn to cook again. It was still warm, so Threecra helped herself to a bowl of the brown soupy stuff, which was thick with vegetables, and to one of the rolls. The bread wouldn’t last much longer, after all. She also grabbed a leftover piece of Selliss’s unbelievable pot roast, which she figured she could use to make the roll into a mini sandwich, and a bag of the dried snack chips she hadn’t been able to stop eating for the last month, especially for the great nutritional replenishment they gave after training sessions. For good measure, she also threw in a glass of the Regrundian Ale they’d stashed away-- she needed a drink-- and a slice of the fabulous cake from Pallas’s recent birthday.

As she struggled to balance her pile of food so that she could take it back to the room and eat, she could hear the sound of Peter’s distinctive voice as it rose and fell in pitch-- that would be him telling one of his ridiculous stories. Occasionally it was interrupted by the loud laughter of the rest of the crew. This must be one of his better ones.

Threecra sighed and set her food back on the wooden counter. It looked like she’d have to either make two trips, or choose something to leave behind.

“Hey,” came a soft voice from the kitchen’s front door, and Threecra turned to see Pallas standing there. The sound behind him had returned to the normal mess hall chatter-- it seemed that Peter had finished his story.

She smiled, in spite of herself. “Hey.”

“Sure you don’t want to join us?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Still not feeling well.”

Pallas laughed. “If you eat all that you’ll feel worse,” he said, nodding at the food she’d laid out on the counter.

Threecra rolled her eyes, “You sound like my mother.”

Pallas’s face looked like he’d been punched, and Threecra immediately had to fight back tears. That had been the wrong thing to say. How could it still do that, after all this time?

“Sorry,” she muttered sincerely.

Pallas smiled sadly, “It’s alright. So you’re just gonna spend another evening alone?”

Threecra swallowed and nodded.

“You know Ven Dora and Chen Chen are worried about you,” he said, wearing a look of concern.

Threecra snapped, “Yeah, they made that pretty clear.”

“Okay, okay,” said Pallas, holding up his hands in a gesture of ‘not my fault.’

“I’ll be fine,” she said, glaring at him, daring him to disagree.

But he didn’t disagree. Instead he gave her that winning smile she loved so much and said, “You always are.”
Why did he have to choose now to know exactly what to say to her?

“Hey, Pallas?” she began.

“Hm?”

“You ever think about leaving the Esprit?”

He smiled at her knowingly, “I used to, all the time. But this is my family now.”

She swallowed, and couldn’t bring herself to match his smile. That had been exactly the answer she’d been hoping he wouldn’t give, and she had to blink away a sudden onset of tears. “Yeah.”

Pallas gave her a concerned look and stepped forward, putting his arms around her easily. He kissed her forehead gently, and she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, not wanting to ever let him go.

“Hey, you playing this game or not?” called Chen Chen from the mess.

“Coming!” Pallas yelled back, and tried to turn away. Threecra squeezed him tighter and they both very nearly tumbled to the floor. He laughed, “Come on, Threecra, Chen Chen’ll eat me alive if I don’t take my turn.”

With a sigh, she reluctantly let him go. As he bounded out into the mess hall, shouting a backhanded apology to Chen Chen, Threecra moved into the doorway and leaned against the doorframe, looking out at the crew.

She was struck by a sudden sense of jamais vu. These people, these familiar people, had become her friends and confidants, but now all she could see was how different they all were. She’d lived her entire time on this ship, and her entire life before that, with scarcely a thought spared for a person’s species, but now everything she saw seemed so… alien.

There was Chen Chen, the Kyrikey, with her long bird-like neck and her small bird-like head and her thin bird-like legs, and her two arms, the left of which was split in half down the middle, so that she could hold her drink and her chit at the same time while still performing the game’s gestures with her right. Her bright blue plumage made her easy to pick out, and her big, blue eyes were alternately considering her chit and eying those around her. She wore the exaggerated smile that meant she was bluffing-- Chen Chen could not bluff to save her life, which, if anything, only made her more charming, considering her outgoing personality and her utter lack of a sense of propriety.

Beside Chen Chen sat Pallas, Threecra’s friend since childhood, and now her lover as well. She’d never met all that many Humans, and now the shape of her own species seemed strange and foreign to her. The gangly limbs and the soft pink flesh and the little tuft of hair that sat above the Human face that was all squashed together in the middle of the Human head seemed so absurd that she wondered if someone had designed the Human body as a joke on the universe. She loved Pallas. If she knew anything, it was just how much she loved him, but now, looking at the bizarre thing that he really was, she felt a growing pain in her heart.

Behind Pallas, just watching the game, sat Selliss. More and more often, lately, Selliss had been sitting alone in her room rather than joining the crew for entertainment, so Threecra was happy to see that she was here and participating. Selliss was a Zong, tall and slender and dark brown, her exoskeletal flesh just textured enough to not be shiny. Her insectine mouth and her six eyes were bent into a sly smile, and some part of Threecra knew she’d just made some kind of underhanded insult that probably wouldn’t hit its target until much later, but looking at her now, all Threecra could see was a snarling five-meter-tall insectine beast with too many eyes and too many limbs. She seemed too big to fit into the cramped room, and everyone else seemed squeezed in around her.

The Captain walked up next to Selliss and punched her lightly on the leg, as high as he could reach, making some underhanded comment of his own, his long tail switching back and forth mischievously. He always seemed perfectly in tune with Selliss’s extremely dry sense of humor. His shape was humanoid, but his features were not. His fur was brown, striped with tan, with a single streak of black running above the left side of his face that he never let anyone forget evinced his connection, however distant, to the royal bloodline of Zengata himself, though when he spoke of his heritage he always used a tone and wore a smirk that made it clear that he placed no value on it himself. His royal ancestry was a bit of a running joke amongst the crew, and it was a joke that the Captain himself embraced wholeheartedly. His big, triangular ears, too-large mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth, little pink nose, and big yellow eyes divided by black slits made up a face that she could now see fell somewhere on the line between adorable and terrifying. His fingers ended in wicked claws, and she knew that inside his thick boots, his feet did as well, and Threecra wondered how she’d ever felt safe around such a creature.

At a groan of dismay, Threecra looked to the other side of the table to see Pin slamming her chit down in mock frustration. She delivered one of her clever one-liners in her quick, high-pitched voice, and then laughed, a rapid-fire tittering sound that Threecra had come to find comforting, but now could only find intimidating. Pin was a Calrin, the species known throughout the former IPA for their gift of planning and foresight, and Pin in particular always managed to take that to the next level, which was why she was usually the mission coordinator. She was the smallest member of the crew, resembling a raccoon with three joints in her longer front legs. Instead of fur, her translucent skin was covered with hundreds of rubber-like growths that changed color with her mood. Right now, she was a pale orange, but that may not mean much in a game like this-- Pin was part of the elite class of Calrin that had learned to change color at will regardless of actual mood. Most Calrin wouldn’t have the physical capacity to bluff, but Pin had become an expert. Still, Threecra thought the tilt of her head and the bright smile she wore gave her away. Pin’s beady eyes and long snout seemed so alien to Threecra at that moment that she had to look away.

Iza’s laugh drew her attention, and she found herself looking at an aged Syler, the ‘father figure’ of their crew who had survived more battles during the Mohemian war than he could remember. He always seemed a little spacy and disconnected, but if even half of the gruesome war stories he told were even half true, it was a wonder his mind still worked at all. His long, reverse-jointed legs and powerfully-muscled arms and extremely fit torso were covered with his thick, shaggy fur, which was naturally a bluish-silver with a dark gray splotchy pattern running from the top of his head on down his back and chest. The Syler were known for their ability to focus single-mindedly on any task at hand, and it seemed that Iza had gotten into his head to beat Pin this round. He didn’t notice Ven Dora coming to stand behind him until she’d placed a hand on his shoulder, at which point he started, giving a very dog-like yip.

Ven Dora laughed and said nothing, ‘watching’ the game with interest. Ven Dora rarely played these games with them, but when she did, she had a tendency to win by a large margin. Ven Dora’s tiny, almost-humanoid body seemed to be nothing more than a juncture for her four too-long many-jointed thickly-muscled limbs, each limb ending in an oversized hand with too many fingers, each finger with too many joints. She was covered with a coconut-fuzz orangish-brown fur, and her head, almost as large as her torso, was split nearly in two by her huge mouth, with its bright red tongue and sharp teeth. Between her huge, pointy ears was a pattern of black and white spots that Threecra might have mistaken for a pair of huge, lopsided eyes had she not already known that Ven Dora had no eyes at all.

Ven Dora leaned down to Peter and whispered something in his ear. Threecra knew Ven Dora wouldn’t help Peter cheat, but she would make it look like she was helping him cheat in order to put Pallas on edge, and sure enough, when Peter’s eyes flicked towards Pallas, Pallas scowled back. Peter was Ennish, and even after a lifetime of living in the former IPA, Threecra still wasn’t sure whether that meant he was a member of a particular species that could use magic, or a particular culture centered around the use of magic and made up of many different species. She’d always suspected the latter, but Peter seemed to lend credence to the former-- he could change his shape at will. At the moment, he was dressed in his favorite form, a broad-shouldered gargoyle-like creature with leathery greyish-purple skin. He could stand as tall as her chest, but Peter usually stood hunched over when he was in this form, making him seem much shorter. His smiling, pig-like face seemed at once friendly and frightening, and the large bull-like horns atop his head gave him a very fierce appearance. His two thick bat-like wings were folded along his back at the moment, but when unfurled they spanned nearly twice as wide as he was tall, allowing him to actually fly short distances.

The chair nearest Threecra was conspicuously empty, and looking at it, Threecra felt a stab in her heart as she pictured Roman sitting there, but somehow even her memory of him seemed unfamiliar. Roman had been a Vondanod, the race widely considered to be the founders of the IPA. The Vondanod consisted of of a central body the shape of a sand dollar, from which extended their four identical limbs-- long, spider-like and spindly, covered in an exoskeletal chitin that was as light as foam and as strong as steel. From the end of each limb, the Vondanod could extend their three long, talon-like claws for use in the holding and manipulation of objects, or they could pull their claws back into their legs for protection when walking on them. The underside of the Vondanod body contained the mouth, a large opening rimmed with tiny, razor-sharp teeth. The mouth could stretch out a short distance to reach for food, negating the necessity of lowering the body to the ground to eat. From the middle of the back extended the long, flexible, fleshy Vondanod neck, the only part of the body that wasn’t covered in an exoskeleton. Atop the neck sat what passed for the head, a bulbous, flat-topped extension maybe half the size of Threecra’s own head that served as little more than the housing for the main eyes-- four large black compound eyes spaced evenly around the head-- and half of the brain. Smaller eyes were placed seemingly at random across the body. In dangerous situations, the head could be drawn into the body cavity for protection, with the flat top of the head comfortably blocking the top of the opening. Roman’s body had been crossed with a series of reddish streaks, and his head had faded to a redder color than the rest of his pastel-orange body, so that when he’d drawn his head all the way in, it had looked as though he had a red spot in the center of his back.

Most Vondanod used two of their limbs for walking, and the other two as hands, but Roman had preferred to walk on all fours, and to use them as hands only when necessary. Remembering Roman’s little quirks, Threecra felt tears stinging her eyes. Roman had been the most serious member of this crew, and his short temper had resulted in he and Threecra shouting at each other more than once. She’d gotten the impression that he didn’t like her, but even so, he’d always been protective-- on occasion overly protective, telling off Chen Chen more than once when the Kyrikey had crossed a line in insulting Threecra-- and she’d really come to appreciate his bedside manner whenever she was injured during training. He’d been efficient and to the point, not gentle but not rough, and he gave the impression that his entire world consisted of making sure she got better each time. She’d come to feel safe in his practiced care.

Maybe it was the memory of Roman that did it, but the sense of unfamiliarity passed as Threecra watched the crew joke and play. The rest of the crew hid their pain at his absence well, but Threecra knew these people. She could tell that he was on all their minds, by the way the jokes seemed a bit more desperate, the laughter seemed a bit more forced, and by the way everyone’s eyes carefully avoided looking at Roman’s empty chair.

Threecra found herself staring once again at the crew she’d come to know since arriving on this ship. No longer did they seem like a gang of monsters and aliens. Pallas was right. This collection of misfits was her family now. How could she leave this behind?

Stifling a sob, Threecra turned and made her way back through the kitchen and out into the corridor, her food forgotten. She wandered for a while, lost in her own thoughts, until she found herself standing outside the infirmary. Biting her lip, she opened the door.

There, in the bed, was the crew member whose shape was most familiar to Threecra. Lerais was a Radon, as tall as Threecra, and almost Human in shape, but her overall build was broader and tougher. Threecra’s stomach turned as she lowered herself gently into the familiar chair next to Lerais’s bed-- even under the blankets, there was no question that one of her legs was missing entirely, its shredded remains having been amputated at the hip. Lerais’s light blue skin was crossed with jagged maroon ‘tiger stripes’ that continued up her neck and to her swept, streamlined head. There were bandages wrapped around portions of her head and neck, but at least these were clean. The first time Threecra had been in here to see Lerais after the mission, those bandages had been soaking through with red blood. Lerais lay on her back, her head to the side and her face turned towards Threecra. Lerais’s face seemed almost Human, save for the fact that she had only nasal slits instead of a nose, and that her eyes were larger and farther apart. The bandage covered one of Lerais’s eyes, but as Threecra sat, the other eye fluttered open.

“Hey,” said Threecra gently, smiling.

Lerais blinked a few times, and then smiled back. “Hey, you,” she said, her voice raspy.

“How’re you feeling?” Threecra asked, unable to keep the quavering out of her voice.

“Better than yesterday,” said Lerais. “They told me I’d be up and about in no time.”

“We’ve gotta find you a new leg first,” Threecra reminded her, fighting back tears.

Lerais waved a hand dismissively, “Psh. Details.”

Threecra found herself chuckling at that, but she still cast a doubtful glance at the spot where Lerais’s leg should have been.

“Hey,” said Lerais gently, reaching up for Threecra’s chin and gently drawing her gaze back. “Hey, girl, I’ll be fine, really. Captain knows a place where I can get a new one.”

“I just hate seeing you like this,” choked Threecra.

“I think I feel better than I look,” said Lerais, and her tinkling laugh was enough to lift Threecra’s spirits ever so slightly.

“I wish we had a real doctor for you,” said Threecra.

“Hon, Roman wouldn’t want you mourning him. He’d want you remembering the good times.”

Threecra swallowed,  “Still, I wish this hadn’t happened.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Lerais said gently.

Yes, there was, thought Threecra, looking away and blinking back tears.

“Come on, girl, keep your chin up,” said Lerais. “Peter says I’ll be mobile again within a few days, even without a new leg.”

Threecra forced her best attempt at a smile.

“That’s better,” laughed Lerais. “So, any news on the thing with Ven Dora and Peter? I am gossip-starved down here, girl.”

With a laugh-- a genuine laugh, this time-- Threecra began recounting what she’d seen in the past few days, which led to their shared thoughts and theories, which led to lots of giggling and speculation, which led to more and more absurd topics, and soon the two were doing less gossiping than they were creating an imaginary world in which their own imaginary versions of the crew lived, and they talked well into the night. At one point, Peter stopped in to check up on Lerais, and a few minutes after he’d left, the Captain stopped by. The two bit their tongues until the Captain had left and shut the door, and then burst out laughing-- neither had been able to help picturing the version of the Captain they’d just been talking about, proudly bragging about his royal lineage and wearing only a crown and a tiny speedo while he barked out absurd orders

Eventually, though, Lerais needed to sleep and continue healing, and Threecra made her way back into the hallway, her emotions conflicted. She looked in on Lerais one last time and turned away, yelping in surprise when she nearly plowed into Pallas coming around the corner.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked angrily.

“With Lerais,” said Threecra simply.

“I was worried about you,” he said.

“How many places can I possibly go on this ship?” she asked him, her temper beginning to rise now. What right did he have to police her every movement?

“I didn’t…” he seemed taken aback at her sudden anger. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed. She didn’t want to be mad at him. Not tonight. She wrapped her arms around him, “Me too.”

She allowed him to take her hand and lead her back to the room, and soon found herself enjoying a quiet argument with him over whether Tentek Nine or Greeza would be a better vacation spot, an argument that continued until they were sitting side by side on her bunk. When she finally thought she had him on the ropes, he countered with a sloppy kiss. She pushed him away, laughed, and then pulled him close and kissed him back, and before long they found themselves making love so loudly that Chen Chen called them over the com and asked them to shut the hell up because some people were trying to sleep around here, which left them both laughing and making as much noise as possible for the next few minutes.

Later, Threecra gave one last look around the room. Pallas lay on his back in her bed, snoring loudly, wearing nothing and covered only by her sheets. She smiled sadly and cinched the waist strap on her backpack, straightening her clothes and her hair as best she could. The warm glow she felt looking at him wasn’t nearly enough to counter the sadness at the thought that she’d never see him again, and she found herself no longer caring that she was unable to wipe away the tears that flowed unceasingly down her cheeks.

Closing the door and turning away, she activated her communicator. “Everyone’s asleep. I’m ready.”

There were a few seconds of silence before the voice of a confident young man spoke to her through her communications device, the sound uncharacteristicall y broken by static. “Okay. Are… you sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” she said. If she started second-guessing herself now, there was no way she’d go through with this.

“And you’re sure you can’t bring him with you?”

“Raicca, this is his family now. I can’t ask him to leave all of this.”

“If you’re sure,” the voice said, sounding uncertain. “Okay, we’ll meet you there.”

“Meet you there,” agreed Threecra. As she made her way through the ship, she kept expecting… or hoping? That she might run into someone, that an alarm would go off, that something would happen to give her away, but she saw no one, and the Esprit gave no indication that an unauthorized docking with a second ship was in progress. This crew had taught her well.[/spoiler]

[Aluminator (Kit)]

[spoiler=Chapter 20]Jaron

“Mom, don’t worry,” Sasha said. “I’ve got Yooie. I won’t get lost.”

Her mother set a heavy box on the grav-lev cart with a groan, and sighed. “I don’t know. What did your father say?”

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her father was out of earshot. “He said it was okay,” she lied.

Her mother frowned, “Yooie, tell me if she gets into any trouble.”

“Of course,” replied Yooie, sounding formal, even cordial, inside Sasha’s head.

“Sasha,” her mother said, staring her in the eyes, “be back in time for dinner.”

“Okay!” said Sasha, and took off down the corridor before her mother could say another word, weaving through the thick crowd as only a child can. By the time she heard an exasperated shout of “Sasha, wait a minute!” she was far enough away that she could pretend not to hear.

“Your mother is concerned that you haven’t dressed warmly enough. She wants you to go back,” said Yooie within her head.

“I know,” Sasha replied conversationally, making her way into the main square and quickly clambering up the fountain there. There was so much to take in-- there must be a thousand people in here, of a hundred different species. There were buildings and shops and stalls set up haphazardly throughout the plaza, some stretching all the way up to the ceiling above, which someone had thought to paint with a mural that faded through the skies of a dozen of the Coalition’s more prominent worlds. Merchants shouted deals, struggling to make their voices heard above the constant murmur of conversation and the noise of communications devices and hovercars scooting by overhead and the deep, ever-present rumble of the station’s power systems.

“And you’re not going to listen,” sighed Yooie.

“Nope.” This was almost overwhelming, compared to the sleepy town she’d grown up in. She could smell a hundred different things in the air, some more appetizing than others. And there was no sun. The light was just kind of there.

“I could have station security bring you back to her,” said Yooie.

“Please don’t,” said Sasha, suddenly afraid, looking around for anyone who might be security personnel. She saw on uniformed Radon across the plaza. Catching sight of him, she hopped down and started pushing through the bustling crowd in the opposite direction.

“Sasha, I want to be your friend, but I do have a responsibility to your parents, too.”

“Don’t you have other personality settings?” Sasha asked, annoyed. There, to her left-- there was a hole in the wall that led directly into one of the huge concourses that led to the station’s center. That’s where she wanted to go.

“I… yes…” began Yooie, cautiously.

“How about something nicer?” As she walked through the hole in the wall, she could see that the concourse was wider than the entirety of the plaza she’d just come from. There were many more people here, but it seemed less crowded, since things were more spread out. People walked across all the walls and the ceiling in here, Sasha saw. Excitedly, she immediately ran for the wall.

“I’m more fun like this,” Yooie said, his voice sounding different now. More informal. More like her brother, Sasha thought. “But you’ve still gotta go back to your mom.”

Sasha felt dizzy, marveling at the way the entire world seemed to shift above her as she walked along the contour between floor and wall, and suddenly the wall was the floor.

“Whyyyy?” wondered Sasha, and even to her, it sounded whiny. “They’re just moving boxes into the new house. I’m no good at moving.”

“She wants you to set up your room,” said Yooie.

“Can’t I do it later? Or tomorrow?” There, ahead, was a wall of hanging vines, and behind it, from the look of things, was a dimly-lit corridor overgrown with plants. That was really cool.

“You’ll be in school tomorrow,” Yooie reminded her.

“Not all day,” she said in disgust. “When am I going to explore?”

“After school,” suggested Yooie.

“How about I explore now, and set up my room after school,” Sasha said, in her best ‘businesswoman’ voice, imitating her father.

Yooie was silent for a few moments, then he sighed. “Your mom’s okay with that, but she’s not happy. You owe me.”

Sasha groaned, pushing her way through the vines. “Can I just turn you off?”

“Technically, no,” Yooie said, sounding pretty proud of himself, Sasha thought. “You can turn off my voice, but I’d still be…”

“Sh!” Sasha shushed him and held up a finger, the way her mother did when she was busy and didn’t want to be interrupted. She could hear voices echoing down this little hallway, but they were coming from around a bend. She couldn’t make out the words, but the one she could hear was yelling, and it sounded upset. “Yooie, who is that?”

“That? That’s nobody. There’s nobody down there,” supplied Yooie helpfully.

“Yoooooiiiiieeeee,” groaned Sasha, “I thought you weren’t supposed to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” lied Yooie.

Sasha rolled her eyes and made her way quietly down the corridor until she could make out the words.

“Come on, babies, it’s not that big a deal,” said one of the voices tauntingly. Vondanod, she thought, judging by the dual high-low tones. It sounded maybe a little older than she was.

“You’re trying to get us in trouble!” shouted a voice that might belong to a Syler boy around her age.

“Hey, if you don’t think you can do it…” A second Vondanod.

“We’ve pranked better than that,” spat the defiant voice of a Human boy.

“Then why won’t you do it this time?”

“It’s stupid! We’d get caught!”

“And really mean.”

“Hmm,” one of the Vondanod said, in mock contemplation. “Well, Lancer, we have the stuff, we might as well use it.”

Sasha peeked around the corner. There, backed against the wall, were two boys, one Human and one Syler. A pair of pastel-green Vondanod kept them cornered-- though the young Vondanod were smaller than the two boys, they used their spindly limbs to cover a wider area. Each held an aerosol canister of something in the two talons they were using as hands.

Simultaneously, the pair let loose with the cannisters, which sprayed a yellow stream of something at the Radon and Human boys. Wherever the stuff touched the boys’ clothing, the clothing began to dissolve. The Human and Radon boys yelled and tried to back away, but the Vondanod pair kept coming, laughing contemptuously and prodding at them with their long legs.

Sasha ducked back behind the wall, fuming. If there was one thing she hated, it was bullies. She’d dealt with her fair share. But what could she do?

There, on the wall-- one of the light emitters was loose, having been shoved aside by one of the vines as it grew. It was a big, clunky, blue-and-white metal thing, a little bigger than her fist. With a grunt, Sasha wrenched the thing off the wall and held it in her hand for a moment.

At a yell from the Syler boy, she ducked out from behind the wall and hurled the thing at the nearer of the two Vondanod. He saw it coming, of course-- too many eyes facing too many directions to miss something like that-- but he didn’t seem to realize what was happening until it’d almost hit him. He ducked his head, catching the thing on the top of it, rather than in the eye, but the force was enough to send him stumbling backwards, dazed.

The other Vondanod stopped spraying the boys, distracted by Sasha, but with his attention on her, he forgot to block when the Syler boy lunged for him. Instinctively, the Vondanod drew his head into his body, trying and failing to skitter away as the Syler rained blow after blow on his armored body, yelling wordlessly. Taking a cue from his friend, the Human boy rushed the Vondanod Sasha had stunned, tackling him to the ground.

With a shout, the first Vondanod managed to throw the Syler boy off, and was running full-tilt towards Sasha before she’d had time to think. She stumbled backwards, not sure where to go, and the Vondanod brought up one of his aerosol cans that he’d somehow managed to hang onto and aimed it at her chest.
With a shriek, Sasha stumbled to the floor and covered her head with her hands, but the thick stream of yellow liquid… it didn’t seem to be doing anything other than getting her sweater a little damp. She frowned and looked up at the Vondanod, who looked as confused as she felt.

Their eyes met for only a second before the Vondanod was flipped onto his back by the Syler, who’d gotten back up and charged after him.

“Truce!” yelled the Vondanod.

“You’re a jerk, Piyee!” shouted the Syler, glaring down at him with his fists balled and his clothing hanging off of him in shreds.

“Okay, okay, get off me!” came a shout from the other Vondanod. “Truce! Truce!” Sasha scrambled to her feet and looked over to see the other Vondanod on his back with his hands in the air, the Human boy standing over him, his eye already beginning to blacken and swell shut.

“Leave the stupid cans and go away!” yelled the Syler, his lips curled back into a snarl, revealing his intimidating teeth.

Sasha had never seen Vondanod move so quickly. It wasn’t until they were out of sight down the corridor that Sasha turned to look at the two boys, who were now regarding her curiously. They were trying to look threatening, but with their ruined clothing barely hanging onto them and their new bruises, they were more silly than anything.

“Hi,” said the Human, cautiously stepping forward. As he did, his pants finally dropped to the ground, leaving him standing there in his underwear.

Sasha giggled as the boy turned bright red and struggled in vain to cover himself. “Hi.”

The Syler boy finally gave up on trying to fix his own shirt and turned to her, “You’re new.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yep. My family just moved here. I’m Sasha,” she said, sticking out her hand and giving the Syler a very professional business handshake.

“I’m Raicca. This is Jaron,” said the Syler, mimicking her professionalism.

“Nice to meet you,” said Sasha. “How’d you know I was new?”

“Him and Shannon and his dad and Feng Juan are the only Humans here.”

“Except my family now,” said Sasha proudly.

“Why didn’t that stuff dissolve her clothes?” wondered Jaron bitterly. He finally sighed, realizing his pants were a lost cause, and stood up, wincing at the welts on his legs that would soon form fresh bruises.

“I think it might be because mine are made of wool,” said Sasha thoughtfully. “My mom told me that the clothes on the station are all made of recycled polymers.”

“That’s stupid,” was his only response.

“At least I’m not half-naked,” she laughed, and Jaron reddened again.

“Sasha,” Yooie broke in, “you’ve got a bump on your head. I’m going to call for medical personnel.”

Sasha groaned in exasperation, “I wish I could turn you off!”

The boys looked at each other knowingly, and then Jaron asked, “Yooie being annoying?”

“Yes!” she spat. “How do you guys live with him? He’s so annoying!”

The pair sprouted matching grins, and then at the same time, said, “We can fix that!”[/spoiler]

[Aluminator (Kit)]

^_^

[spoiler=Chapter 21]Winston

“It’s not,” sighed Yaflish, speaking slowly, as if to an imbecile “all that great.”

“But it is!” replied Audran. She was getting much better at forming words in Galard with this tongue of hers. “Seeing, senses, the ability to move around without requiring the assistance of others… it’s everything I imagined having a host to be, and more!”

“You’ve not stopped going on about how wonderful it is to see in all directions for two days,” grumbled Yaflish. “Taxxon hosts aren’t exactly considered cream of the crop anymore.”

“How much better can your Hork-Bajir be? You only have two eyes!” shot back Audran.

Yaflish sighed and refused to respond, laying his head in his arms on his console. They’d had this same argument a dozen times over the last day and a half, mostly as a way to kill time, but it seemed to finally be getting to Yaflish.

Audran took a moment, as she’d done so often these last days, to admire her new host body. She’d been given a Taxxon host. The Taxxons resembled Earth centipedes grown to gargantuan proportions, with skin in a color (color was still an incredible concept to her!) that she’d been told was called ‘dark yellow’ and ‘red.’ Her own body was probably twice as long as an adult Human was tall, and wide enough that the same adult Human would be unable to touch hands if they decided to give the Taxxon a hug.

Not that most of the notoriously-squeamish Humans would want to hug a Taxxon, Audran reflected. The lower two-thirds or so of her body was held off the ground by dozens of cone-shaped legs. The upper third of her body was usually held erect, and there, the spindly legs were replaced by a number of small crab-like claws. The Taxxon’s long, tube-like body ended in a huge, gaping hole of a mouth rimmed with razor-sharp teeth. Arrayed around the body, situated just below the mouth, were the Taxxon’s four huge, red, jelly-like compound eyes that Audran had come to love. She could literally see a full three hundred sixty degrees around her.

Having a body of her very own was worth even the Taxxon hunger. The Taxxon race was afflicted by a constant, insatiable, all-consuming hunger that even Yeerks found difficult to control at times. The presence of meat or blood would send Taxxons into a feeding frenzy. Luckily, Audran had been able to keep her host’s hunger contained so far. Even now, though, she could sense it, always there, just beneath the surface.

“Hm,” commented Yaflish. He’d stopped looking quite so bored, and was now sitting up and staring at his console with interest.

“What is it?” asked Audran, making her way across the cramped cabin of their Bug Fighter to her own console.

“Thought I saw something,” muttered Yaflish, sounding unsure. “It’s gone now.”

Audran stared at her own console intently, looking out the front window at the same time (no way a Hork-Bajir host could do that!). Both the display showing the ship’s scan and the view from the window seemed to indicate that there was nothing outside but empty space for light-years in every direction.

“I think you may be going space crazy,” she said. “A day and a half of waiting to intercept Andalite communications and you’re already losing it.”

Yaflish frowned at her, muttering something about ‘being stuck with the new recruit,’ then continued to stare intently at his screen.

Audran sighed. He was being paranoid, she had no doubt. There was nothing out there. This Bug Fighter was part of the Visser One’s new Interception Array, which meant that it was equipped with the best the Yeerk Empire had in the way of sensors and stealth technology. They’d spot anyone approaching long before they were spotted.

Wait, no! There… the stars outside the window… one blinked out, for just a split second. It was followed almost immediately by another, and then another, in a straight line, as if something was moving in front of them, but Audran’s console still showed nothing on sensors. She must be imagining it…

“Eh, maybe I am losing it,” muttered Yaflish, completely missing the white spot of light, growing in intensity, outside the window.

“Um…” began Audran, but was interrupted when the white spot flashed and their little ship rocked violently, throwing Yaflish to the floor and causing Audran to stumble to the side, barely catching herself on her many legs.

“We’re hit!” shouted Yaflish, scrambling back into his seat and strapping himself in. “Computer, identify source!”
Audran watched as Yeerkish words scrolled across her screen-- whatever was out there gave off very little energy, and appeared on sensors as a much smaller object than it really was, but the computer had gotten a good read on the thing when it had fired. It looked like it was larger than their ship, but not by much. It looked to be moving under its own power, but was not leaving a detectable trail behind it.

And whatever this thing was, it had seen right through their cloak.

She scrambled to try to tell where the thing was. Even with its new data, the computer was only detecting whatever was out there intermittently, so objects would only appear on her screen briefly-- there’d be something to their left, then to their right, then to their left again. How many of these things were there!? They were fast, whatever they were. Very fast, but judging by the flashes she saw, they may not be fast enough...

“Yaflish, get us out of here!” she screeched, her Taxxon tongue slurring her frantic speech. “I think we might be able to outrun them!”

Yaflish nodded and hit the thrusters, and the Bug Fighter accelerated with such force that Audran found herself stumbling backwards, in spite of the inertial precautions in place. The state-of-the-art engines installed on this Bug Fighter significantly outperformed those of the previous generation.

Yaflish rolled the Bug left and right, keeping its forward speed but flying in a pattern that would make them hard to hit, should these things decide to shoot at them again. Audran continued frantically searching, trying to spot the things so she could fire on them, but by the time she’d get weapons trained on one of them, the sensors would have lost track of it.

There, a flash of one of the things behind her! She fired, using the Bug’s less-powerful rear Dracon cannon. Nothing. She’d missed.

Another flash, closer this time!

She fired! Missed!

Flash!

Fire!

Miss!

Flash!

Fire!

Miss!

The flashes… they kept coming, in a mostly-straight line, closer and closer. It almost looked as though she was only seeing one object. If that was the case, though, it was catching up and catching up fast.

There! Not on the screen, but through the window, the stars overhead blinked out all at once-- instinctively, Audran aimed and fired with the Bug’s more-powerful fore-facing Dracon cannons.

She felt as though her world froze. The twin red beams of high-intensity energy connected with whatever it was dead-center, causing a red glow to spread across its entire surface as the Dracon energy was dissipated almost-harmlessly around the thing. Through the glow, she could finally see the object. It was ovular, or maybe teardrop-shaped, but beyond that, she could make out nothing.

It was black, a black so dark that it was as though she was looking at a hole in reality. It was darker than the space it moved through. It was darker, even, than a Visser’s Blade Ship, too dark to make out detail or texture on its surface. Audran felt as though her host’s blood had curdled...

In an instant, the glow had died and the thing had become all-but-invisible in front of them. A full-power Dracon shot hadn’t left so much as a scratch on that dapsen thing! What was it!?

Audran was so shocked, It took her a moment to notice the cloud of ionized particles that seemed to blossom out of nowhere in the space in front of them.

“Turn! Turn! Dapsen!” She shouted at Yaflish. Yaflish saw it too, and yanked hard on the fighter’s controls, pulling them into a tight turn, but it was too little, too late. They plowed into the cloud at nearly full-speed.

The Bug shuddered as a thousand tiny, blindingly-blue lightning bolts struck them from every direction, and every light in the cabin and the consoles suddenly flickered out. Audran found herself floating into the air, her dozens of legs scrabbling wildly to find purchase on any surface. The blue, strobing light from the continued flashes of lightning outside provided the only light, illuminating the cabin in brief, eerie flashes that made it look as though Yaflish was moving in fits and jerks, and left Audran blinded, jagged bolts of purple floating across her vision.

The lightning subsided as their momentum carried them through the cloud, and Audran struggled to see anything in the cabin as her eyes adjusted to the light provided by the stars outside. She managed to pull herself to the floor, and held herself against her console as best she could.

“I can’t do anything!” shouted Yaflish. “The ship’s dead! I can’t even get emergency power online!”

Audran started to respond, but stopped when she felt a definite shudder through the deck. She could feel their momentum changing, their ship’s spin slowing gradually. Something was moving them.“Yaflish?”

“I feel it,” he said, unclipping his safety restraint and pushing himself through the zero-gravity air towards a compartment in the fore-most console. “We’re being boarded.” He opened the compartment and pulled out two hand-held Dracon beams.

“Those have any power?” she asked. Her voice was trembling. She’d never realized how overpowering fear could be, and she wasn’t sure how much of the fear she was feeling now was from her host, and how much was her own. They certainly both had plenty to go around.

Yaflish checked the Dracons, then smiled grimly. “They’re working,” he said, and tossed one to her gently, so that it spun slowly towards her. “Whatever’s out there, it won’t know what hit it.”

Audran snatched the weapon out of the air and turned her attention towards the craft’s side hatch, trying and failing to steady her breathing.

As the minutes ticked by, Audran found her apprehension growing. She did her best to squeeze herself in behind her console, while Yaflish tried to hide behind his own chair. He looked as scared as she felt, which only made her more afraid.

Without warning, the ship began decelerating. It wasn’t much of a deceleration, maybe only three or four G’s. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t have even felt it, but their dead ship lacked any sort of inertial compensation system, and they found themselves pressed painfully against the front glass. Yaflish blade left a gash in his own side, which now oozed blood.

Her Taxxon mind smelled the blood, and its hunger flared up. It wanted that blood. It wanted to eat! It wanted to feast! She turned her mouth, ready to bring it down on the wound and eat, eat, eat!

<<No!>> shouted Audran in her own head, clamping down with all her Yeerk might on her host’s mind. <<See the blades? The Hork-Bajir would cut you into ribbons! This is why nobody likes Taxxons!>> she complained to her host. Her concentration was so centered on keeping the Taxxon hunger in check that she forgot to reach for her Dracon, which had slid into a gap between consoles.

Creeeeeeee!!!!! A horrible screeching sound emanated from the hatchway as the ramonite was re-shaped against its will. Audran groaned and struggled to raise herself to her feet, to meet whatever was coming head on, but all she could see through the opening was blackness. No stars. No light.

No invaders.

No, wait… something tumbled out of the opening, tumbling down the deceleration-induced ‘gravity’ within the Bug to land next to her. It was an orange cylinder, about the size of a human fist.

She felt a sinking feeling in her gut. An explosive. Less than three days with a host, less than one feeding cycle of being able to move and hear and most of all to see, and she was going to die. She braced herself for the explosion, silently giving thanks that she’d at least been given the opportunity to experience the world before she died. So many of her brethren would live their entire lives without ever leaving their pools.

The cylinder exploded with a deafening BANG and a blinding flash, but the end was not as Audran had expected. She found her vision gone, washed out with purple, and her hearing wrecked, ringing. She could still feel her host’s body, its brain was still functioning. She could still feel her host’s fear and bewilderment.

A flash of blue light illuminated the cabin briefly, and through her swimming vision, Audran thought she could make out a beam of light striking Yaflish’s host.

At a second flash, her world went dark.

The next thing Audran knew, she was lying on her side in the Bug Fighter, the world slowly coming into focus around her. The cabin lights were on, and the ship seemed to be running again. She was lying on the deck, no longer plastered against the front console. She sat up.

Or rather, she tried to sit up. Her host’s body didn’t respond. What was wrong with her host? She searched its mind.
Unconscious, she realized. Her host was still unconscious, or at least extremely dazed. She was receiving sensory input from the brain, but she’d be unable to make the body respond until her host had recovered a bit.

She looked out through her host’s eyes, trying to make sense of what she saw. That shape, lying beside her… that was a Hork-Bajir! Yaflish! He looked dead!

No, she realized. His chest rose and fell. He was alive. Just unconscious, like her.

There… there were two pairs of legs, standing at Yaflish’s console. Human legs, from the look of them. She was at an angle such that she couldn’t see all of whoever was there, but Humans had to be a good thing. The only Humans in deep space were Yeerk hosts.

She was hearing noises, she realized. Though her hearing was still fuzzy, she could make out voices. Definitely a pair of male Human voices, speaking Galard.

“No… no… no…” one of them was saying, its tone bored. The console, she realized. It was flipping through files on Yaflish’s console, and rejecting them one by one.

“Wait, that one. That’s information on their cloak. Take that,” answered a second voice. Audran felt her hopes slipping away. These were obviously not friendly Imperials, if they were looking to steal files from the computer. The only thought that came to her mind was the traitorous Yeerk Rebellion, the ones who valued their hosts’ freedom more highly than their own people’s lives. The Rebellion was an offshoot of the growing Peace Movement on Earth, but unlike the Peace Movement, the Rebellion was not opposed to using force against the Empire. At least members of the Peace Movement weren’t awful enough to murder their own kind.

If these people were from the Rebellion, why hadn’t they killed her? Confusion fought with fear, and a growing sense of hatred, for space in her head at the moment.

“Hoping to spot Emelen next time?” responded the first with a sarcastic chuckle.

“You can’t tell me he didn’t freak you out.”

“I could tell you he didn’t, but I’d be lying.”

“It’s probably not even the same technology, but it can’t hurt to have the information. Maybe we can find the next one on more than just blind luck.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to fight a war for him.”

“You said that,” said the first voice, in a tone that was mockingly angry.

“Oh yeah.”

“I agreed.”

“Not very loudly.”

“In my head. This is not our fight.”

“You made it our fight when you took his magical box.”

“At least we’re doing something now,” snapped the first voice. “Would you rather just putter around trading with Skrit Na until I grow old and die?”

There was no verbal response to that, but judging by the smack Audren heard and the laugh that followed, there’d been a gesture of some sort. After that, the pair ceased speaking for a few minutes.

“Yeah, dude, I don’t think these guys have much that he’d find interesting. I’m taking these ones.”

“That one might help us find others.”

“You think?”

“Shut up.” Audren watched as one of the pairs of feet turned to face her. She still couldn’t see a face, but she could tell that whoever this was wore a fancy purple suit that shone like nothing she’d ever seen when it caught the light, and gave the impression of staring into a deep pool of cloudy purple liquid when it didn’t. Far too fancy for the type of precision operation that had just taken place, and not anything like she pictured from the Rebellion. Who were these people?

“So which one’s the Yeerk?” asked one of the voices. Audran’s thoughts ground to a halt. They didn’t even know what Yeerks were?

Definitely not the Rebellion.

“No clue. I’d guess both of them.”

“Yeah, but this one looks like how he described a Taxxon, and that one’s probably what he called a Hork-Bajir.”

There was a brief pause. “Oh yeah! Huh…”

“What’d Emelen say about them? They use the bodies of the races they conquer or something?”

“That’s pretty much it, yeah.”

“So what’s that mean? They copy the bodies? Or they kill them and raise them?”

“I don’t think they’re zombies, dude.”

There was a moment of silence. “Think I can morph them?”

What!? Morph? Morphing was an exclusively Andalite technology. Were these Andalites? No, they couldn’t be. Not only would Andalites have killed them faster than the Rebellion would have, but these two appeared to have difficulty understanding the very concept of Yeerk infestation.

“Won’t know unless you try.”

The figure in the purple suit knelt down next to Yaflish, resting a hand on his shoulder. From here, Audran could only see the short, straight dark hair on the back of his head. It wasn’t until he’d turned to her that she could make out his face. It was funny, she thought as his hand settled onto her host body’s side. His green eyes didn’t seem to fit the rest of his features…

By the time she came out of her trance, the pair had moved away from the console, and stood in the doorway. It looked as though they were leaving.

“You know, Emelen would want you to just take them out,” commented one voice offhandedly.

“I’m not doing that. They’re helpless, and Emelen’s an ****.”

“This is why I like you,” laughed the first voice.

“Thought you and him were best buds now.”

“Do I sense jealousy?”

“Seriously, you seemed like you liked him.”

“Of course I like him, but he’s tail-deep in this war of theirs. The guy could use some outside perspective.”

“Did you just use one of their colloquialisms?”

“Did you just use a word that was more than two syllables?”

There was another smack, and then the laugh that followed was cut short by the whiiirrrrr that signalled the ramonite hatch melting back into its original shape, sealing the two intruders out.

By the time the Yeerks’ two hosts had regained consciousness, and enough motor function to check the sensors, the blacker-than-black ship and its impossible inhabitants were gone. There was no damage to the hull, no trace of the explosive, no sign that the computer had been accessed. Except for the now-healing gash in Yaflish’s side, it was as if the whole incident had never happened.[/spoiler]

[Aluminator (Kit)]

[spoiler=Chapter 22]Keural

Plunka plunka plunka. As Al’s paddle-ball count topped four hundred and seven thousand, he grinned. Getting close to his record.

There was surprisingly little to do in the little cramped rear ****pit of Keural’s ship. The kid wouldn’t even let him fly. Didn’t trust him as a pilot, or didn’t trust him piloting his precious ship, or something goofy like that, so Al was stuck paddling. He sat up slightly in his chair so that he could see Keural’s ****pit, below and in front of him, and stuck out his copper tongue.

Oh yeah. That’d teach him.

“How close are you to your record?” came Keural’s sleepy voice from the intercom.

Al laughed. He hadn’t realized Keural was awake. “Getting there. Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Think you’ll break it before we land?” asked Keural, with the sound of smacking lips, followed by a heavy yawn.

“Probably not,” admitted Al.

“That’s a shame,” said Keural, and Al couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or sarcastic.

Al opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as he realized that Keural hadn’t said anything about the paddle ball bothering him for a while now, which was a pretty drastic change from earlier in their journey. Maybe Keural was growing up. Or maybe he was just sick of fighting.

“Shut,” Keural had said, much earlier in their journey, “up.”

Al had cut his operatic mashup of pop songs short in surprise. “Who are you talking to?”

“The magical space fairies,” Keural replied sarcastically. “I’m talking to you, you self-centered juvenile jackass! There’s nobody else on this damn ship!”

“Hey, you can choose not to receive my speech constantly,” Al reminded him.

“No I can’t,” said Keural. “The circuit’s stuck in the open position.”

“Sure it is,” Al replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Admit it, you have an appreciation for popera.”

“Nobody,” growled Keural, “has an appreciation for popera.”

“Unless they’re cultured,” Al said, smirking.

“Would you stop with the paddle ball, too? You’re driving me nuts,” said Keural.

“But I just passed three hundred and twenty seven thousand paddles in a row!” objected Al. “I might break my record today!”

“I’ll break more than that if you don’t stop it,” muttered Keural

To which Al replied, “Man, eating nothing but space rations makes you crabby, doesn’t it?”

“Wish I’d never told you how much I hate space rations,” said Keural.

But tell him he had, although not in so many words.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate space rations?” had been Keural’s question, much earlier in their journey.

“Thrice now,” replied Al, “but we don’t have a whole lot else to discuss anymore, it seems, so why don’t you tell me again how much you hate space rations?”

“Man, I hate space rations so much,” replied Keural. “You’re lucky you’re a robot, so you don’t have to eat these stupid things.”

“Yeah,” replied Al, wistfully counting past two hundred and thirty thousand on his paddle-ball game, “but I can’t taste any of the things you squishy organics eat, and sometimes you make it look so nice.”

“If you ask me, what you call nice is overrated,” said Keural.

“Can’t blame a guy for wondering,” said Al philosophically.

“Wait,” interjected Keural, “so you can simulate drunkenness, but not a sense of taste?”

“That’s not that weird,” said Al defensively

“Aaagggh!” Keural responded thoughtfully.

“Cramp?” guessed Al.

Keural affirmed with “Aaagggh!”

“Did you eat your space ration earlier?” Al inquired. He suspected that Keural had simply let it sit in the microwave.

“No!” replied Keural, “It’s still just sitting in the microwave!”

“What about what you said?” wondered Al.

“What was it I said?” wondered Keural.

“I’m going to eat a space ration now,” was what Keural had said, much earlier in their journey.

“What about how much you hate them?” asked Al.

“I hate them so much!” complained Keural.

“Then why don’t you just wait until we land, and eat something better?” wondered Al.

“I’ll probably have starved to death by then!” snapped Keural.

“Probably not all the way to death,” guessed Al with a grin.

“And I’ll be cramped to no end,” complained Keural. “We squishy organics were not meant to sit in one chair for this long.”

“And the space ration matters because…?” wondered Al.

“They’re designed to prevent muscle cramps and clotting and all that good stuff that comes from being squishy,” replied Keural bitterly.

“Huh!” exclaimed Al, counting past a hundred and fifty one thousand in his game of paddle-ball. “Learn something new every day.”

“Do you?” wondered Keural.

“What?”

“Do you learn something new every day?” asked Keural.

“I’ve never actually kept count,” admitted Al.

“How many days old are you?” Keural asked.

“A lot,” replied Al.

Keural snickered, “And how many things do you know?”

“A lot,” replied Al.

“That’s one thing per day,” responded Keural.

“Oh yeah, I guess it is. By the math,” Al laughed.

“I wish I could be a robot,” said Keural.

“Yeah, you said that earlier,” said Al dryly.

“Oh, yeah,” said Keural, remembering.

“I wish I could be a robot,” was what Keural had said, much earlier in their journey.

“Why’s that?” Al asked.

“Because then I wouldn’t have to eat space rations,” Keural said.

“Why do you hate space rations so much?” wondered Al.

“Because they’re disgusting!” Keural shouted.

“They can’t be that bad,” said Al gently.

“I hate them so much! I wish I was a robot so I’d never have to eat them again!” Keural replied.

“If you ask me, what you call being a robot is overrated,” Al said.

“Can’t blame a guy for wondering,” shot back Keural.

“I’m dispelling that wonder now,” said Al.

“At least you don’t have to eat space rations!”

“Yeah,” said Al philosophically, “but that’s balanced out by my inability to eat space rations.”

Keural sighed, “Would you stop with the paddle ball? You’re driving me nuts!”

“But I just passed sixty thousand paddles in a row!” Al objected. “I might break my record today!”

“See, that’s another thing. You can paddle sixty thousand times, no sweat. I’ll get a cramp just from sitting in this chair for too long.”

“Because you’re squishy!” Al said.

Keural sighed, “Yeah, because I’m squishy.”

Al grinned. It seemed they were starting to get along. It was nice, especially after what had been said much earlier in their journey.

“You’re an ****!” was what Keural had said much earlier in their journey.

“It’s not really my term. A lot of artificial beings call organics ‘squishies,’” Al replied.

“Oh. I thought you were referring to… something else,” Keural replied.

Al laughed, “Man, our fight from earlier is over. Let’s not keep it going.”

“Yeah… sorry…” Keural replied, sounding sheepish.

“You hungry? Some people get crabby when they’re hungry,” said Al.

“It’s eating nothing but space rations that makes me crabby,” said Keural bitterly.

“What’s wrong with space rations?” asked Al, shuffling through his duffle bag of random stuff. Hey! His paddle ball game! He picked it up and started paddling.

“I hate them,” pouted Keural. “Also, what is that noise?”

“Paddle ball,” replied Al, matter-of-factly. “I think I might break my record today.”

“Doubt it,” responded Keural offhandedly.

Plunka. “Ha!” Al shouted, much later in their journey, cutting short their popera duet. “Five hundred thousand and one! Told you I’d break my record today!”

“What?” asked Keural, stopping his own singing a few moments after Al.

“You told me you doubted I’d break my record today, but I just did it!” said Al.

“I did?” said Keural, sounding confused.

“What’s wrong?” wondered Al.

“I just realized, you stopped paddling. I’ve heard nothing but that paddling over the intercom for an eternity now. It’s like it’s ingrained in my brain.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’d have stopped days ago, but you said you doubted I’d break my record today, so I had to.”

“I did?”

“Yep.”

“But you didn’t break your record on the day you started. It’s been days and days and days and days...”

“Days mean nothing in space,” stated Al assertively.

“Hey, wait,” said Keural. “You just broke your record by one? Why wouldn’t you keep going?”

“We’re about to land on planet boring,” said Al, “and I figure I’ll want to look around. Besides, it’s a rule of mine. I never break my record by more than one. Makes it easier to break the next time. I hold the record for most records broken ever.”

“You,” said Keural, “are nuts.”

“Thank you,” replied Al with a grin.

Sreefeech! was the ship’s response, as the landing struts settled into the dirt of the alien world.

“Finally,” said Keural. “It’ll be nice to get out and walk around a bit. Getting a little cramped here.”

“Because you’re squishy,” Al reminded him.

“Shut up,” said Keural, but Al could hear that he was smiling. So maybe the kid could learn to loosen up a bit after all.

Al watched as Keural’s ****pit opened and he climbed out, down the ship’s ladder to the ground. The air was a little high in Argon, but breathable, so Keural was unmasked. As he stepped off the ship, his black boots sunk a ways into the greenish-brown mud.

“Ugh, muggy,” said Keural. “You coming? You said you wanted to look around”

“Nah,” said Al. “I take that back. I think I can see just fine from here.” And indeed he could. He could see the greenish-brown ocean off to their left, and the greenish-brown mud of the beach leading up to the greenish-brown, sparse vegetation to their right. He could see the greenish-brown sunlight filtering through the greenish-brown clouds that hung in the greenish-brown sky, thick with greenish-brown haze.

As Keural wandered off, the two continued a discussion they’d been having earlier involving Keural’s childhood friends, and whether he’d ever find them again. The talk seemed to be going fine until Al made an off-color joke. Keural didn’t respond.

“Get it?” Al said, grinning. “Because Humans don’t have tails? And…” he paused. “Yeah, I guess that was pretty tasteless.”

There was no response.

“Aw come on, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” said Al.

There was no response.

“What? Did you find something interesting? More interesting than talking to me?” asked Al.

There was no response.

“Alright, alright, I’ll come look. Where are you?” wondered Al.

There was no response.

Al sat up, feeling worried now, and checked the ship’s sensors. Keural had been displayed on them moments before, in spite of his distance from the ship. Now, there was nothing showing up.

Keural was gone.[/spoiler]

[Aluminator (Kit)]

[spoiler=Chapter 23]Domino

“Noooo!” He shouted. He punched his main console, hard, and the display flickered, but he didn’t care.

“No, no no no! Damn it, no!” he said as he stared at the starry emptiness in front of him where there’d been an open cavern moments before. He frantically punched controls, and the ship’s systems came to life, powering themselves on, the vibration reaching him through the seat.

He booted up the ship’s sensors first. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t gone far. Maybe, just this once, the jump had left him a chance to get back.

He scanned the area nearby. Nothing. Empty space.

**** **** ****. He had to get back, and he had to get back now.

“Come on come on come on…” he muttered, punching the controls, widening the scanner’s range. “Something Maltoris Kazin. Something Kazin, at least. Come on come on…”

Nothing. There was nothing. There was what might be a ship at the very edge of his sensor range, and what might be an inhabited planet a few parsecs away, but there was nothing at all that looked remotely Kazin.

“Damn it, no!” What was he going to do!? That ****. That naive ****! How could she do this!?

“Take me back,” he said, punching the one button he’d sworn never to push again, the one that was set up on its own little makeshift console to his left. The one he’d pushed mere minutes before. He felt a strange tingle run through his body, from his chest down through him to the base of his spine. Yes!

“Gerthis, here I come!” He said, grinning, willing the ship back to the base. He’d get back. He had to get back.

Nothing changed.

Maybe he’d just missed it. Maybe he’d jumped and missed it. He scanned the area.

Nothing had changed! Damn it!

“Please, please, please,” he murmured. “I can’t leave Al there. I can’t leave Renor to deal with that.” He punched the button, “Just this once, come on!”

Nothing. Not even a tingle this time.

“****. Come on, please,” he said, punching the button again. Nothing. He punched the button, biting back tears. What would they be doing? They’d get out. They’d been in worse situations than that before. They had to get out. He had to get back and make sure they got out.

“Seresica! Pisin! Come ON!” He slammed the button.

Nothing.

“Work, Damn you!” He slammed the button again, harder this time. “Come ON!” He slammed it again, “Worthless piece of ****!” He leaned back in his seat and slammed the button with his foot, “AL! I’m coming!” he kicked it again, harder this time, “COME ON!” He leaned all the way back in his seat and brought up both feet, slamming the forwards onto the button.

The console broke free from its makeshift base, flopping flimsily to the side, its indicator lights flickering out.

“No!” he yelled, jumping forward and grabbing it. He tried to stand it back up, but the casing was bent and the lights were out.

He fumbled with it for a few moments, flipping it over, but his hands were shaking too badly to handle the cables and conduits there. They were ripped, anyway. No way to put them back. He dug around frantically inside of the upturned console, looking for… looking for…

For something… there was no way… How could that happen… Pisin… Al… Oh Gods…

He sat back and pressed his eyes shut. While he was out here, drifting safely, they would be… they wouldn’t… he had to help them… how… how!?

He sat, for minutes or hours or days, it didn’t matter, trying, TRYING not to imagine what was happening to the Maltoris Kazin at this very moment. But he couldn’t help it. They’d be slaughtered, or imprisoned, and that would be it. The last resistance, crushed in an instant. He might not have been able to do much if he was there, but it would be better to die beside them than to be safe out here knowing that… that…

Later, he found himself feeling weak. He opened his eyes. He’d been crying, a lot, and had barely even noticed, but now he felt weak. Drained. There was no fight left in him. He’d slept or half-slept or zoned out, but he felt more exhausted than he had in ages.

Tears were again starting to flow freely down his cheeks as he realized: by now it would be too late. There’d be nothing left of the base. Gerthis… maybe even Fernir… they’d be captured or dead. Al… what would those bastards do with Al? And he was here… he’d never see them again… any of them… they were gone by now and he’d done nothing to help them, had run when they’d needed him most.

Hands shaking, he reached down, beneath his seat, and pulled out his gravity pistol. There was no point now. If he couldn’t get back, there was no point to anything. He cranked the power on the gun to full.

Without even bothering to snap the stabilizing blades into place, he aimed the weapon at his right temple. The tears wouldn’t stop now. This would be painful and messy, and no less than he deserved. Best to just end it now, save himself the pain of imagining, again and again, the slaughter of his family, each new image flashing through his brain more horrific than the last.

He clenched his eyes shut.

He drew a breath.

His finger tightened on the trigger...[/spoiler]

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Delay? What delay?

[spoiler=Chapter 24]Salem

Salem groaned in frustration and leaned against a tree, shutting his eyes. Myitt was nowhere to be found in these stupid woods. He’d been unable to find her in the bar, and she wasn’t hanging out in the shipyard. His plans with Mar hinged on a conversation with her.

He sighed. Oh well. It wasn’t like this was one of his better-laid plans anyway. More like a vague idea of direction. A distraction. Maybe it was about time gave up on that one and started looking for a way to deal with the reality of his situation.

Wait. There was someone sitting on the ground nearby, in a small clearing. How had he not noticed before? The long blonde hair… that had to be Terenia, facing away from him, staring up into the canopy. She either hadn’t seen him yet or didn’t care that he was there. She probably wasn’t likely to be in a talkative mood. Understandable, considering what she’d apparently been through today.

Still, she was his best chance of finding Myitt.

“Rough day?” he asked gently as he neared her.

Her eyes flickered to him only briefly. With a sigh, she unwrapped her arms from her knees and stretched out her legs, leaning back on her hands. “You could say that,” she responded, equally quietly. Salem thought he could see the faintest ghost of an ironic smile on her face, but it was gone in an instant, and he wondered if he’d only wished he’d seen it. It was funny how much sympathy he felt towards this girl, who’d been effectively his enemy only a short time ago.

Funny how much of himself he saw in her.

Salem swallowed the lump in his throat and leaned against a tree, crossing his arms and trying to affect an air of unconcern. “Know what I do when I have one of those?” he asked, his smile falling somewhere between sad and encouraging. At least, he hoped it had some element of encouragement.

Her eyes found him again for a brief moment before wandering back to the trees. He took that to mean she was listening. Her gaze, strangely enough, wasn’t flooded by tears, or sadness, or anger or, really, any emotion at all. It was merely… distant.

“I do something to get my mind off of it,” he said. “At least until the memories aren’t quite so fresh. Rolling it over and over in your head is rarely productive.”

Terenia didn’t respond.

Salem leaned his head against the tree and followed her gaze to the reddening patch of twilight sky visible through the treetops. “I usually go for menial repair tasks. A friend of mine would recommend drinking and dancing. Just something to lose yourself in for a while.” He ****ed his head and looked back at her, considering. “You seem more like the dancing type.”

Again, that ghost of a smile crossed her features as she looked back at him. “Can’t say I’ve ever been.” She rubbed her arms against some nonexistent chill and looked out into the treetops, and for a few minutes, neither of them spoke, watching the sunset in silence.

Salem sighed. She might know where Myitt had gone, but after what she’d been through tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her, for some reason. He turned to leave.

“It’s strange. I don’t think I need to keep my mind off anything,” came Terenia’s voice from behind him. Salem hesitated only briefly, then turned back and resumed his position, leaning against the tree.

“You’d think I’d be in hysterics, you know?” she continued, speaking as much to the trees as to Salem. “What was it Myitt said? Blinded by guilt and rage. But I’ve been sitting here thinking about it for a while, playing it over in my head, and no matter how many times I look at it, I can’t see another option.” She turned and met Salem’s eyes, searching his gaze for… something. “I don’t feel guilty. I know I should. I know I should be reacting. But I… I can’t…”

It was Salem’s turn to stare distantly into the treetops. “I know that feeling,” he said quietly. “That distance between event and emotion. Sometimes there are no other choices, and it’s better not to second-guess yourself. The hard part,” he said, forcing his eyes back to hers and smiling sadly, “is not losing sight of who you were, once you start down that road.”

Terenia said nothing. She picked a twig and began absently tracing lines in the dirt and leaves of the forest floor.

“About earlier,” Salem said, suddenly finding his voice scratchy. Apologies had never been his strong suit. He paused, searching for words. “Sorry for the whole ‘psychic warrior mind flood’ thing. I… um...”

Again, the barest hint of a smile flittered across Terenia’s face. On some level, he realized, she was laughing at him. He felt his ears growing warm.

“Did you happen to see what direction Myitt went?” he asked, hastily changing the subject.

“I think she went that way,” said Terenia, gesturing in a general direction that included the bar without meeting his eyes.

Salem nodded once, “Thanks.” He turned and began walking away, but something made him stop and turn back. “Terenia…” he began, but couldn’t find the words to say whatever it was he’d been hoping to say. “Good luck with… with whatever happened out here tonight,” he finished lamely. He again tried and failed to swallow the lump in his throat as he turned and practically fled.

After a short distance, Salem stopped walking quite so fast. He pressed his eyes shut and leaned against a tree. He hadn’t been just talking about Terenia. He hadn’t been simply thinking about her situation.

After a few moments, he steadied his breathing, wiped a hand across his eyes, and set out for the bar. Screw finding Myitt. What he really wanted now was a drink.

He yanked open the door, eager to get inside, and very nearly plowed down the very person he’d now given up on finding.

“Whoa!” he yelped. “Myitt!” Insightful, that. She simply crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow, and managed to look remarkably annoyed. It was an expression that said get out of my way or I’ll hurt you.

She didn’t look that annoyed, however. Salem sighed. This was probably the best opportunity he’d get.

“I… uh…” he began. He really should have thought through what he was going to ask before he ran into her. “You have a minute?”

“What is it?” she snapped. “I haven’t got all day.”

Salem smirked. So she was always like that. “I’ll cut to the chase, then,” he said, indicating an empty booth and taking a seat after her. “I’ve a deal in the works with Mar. You seem to know more about him than anyone here. I guess what I’m asking is… what do I need to know about him?”

Myitt hesitated, her eyes wandering towards the door. Salem followed her gaze to see Mar himself walking into the little bar. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered. He missed the way Myitt quirked her eyebrows at that, and continued in a low voice, “I’d be willing to offer something in exchange for the information, of course.”

Salem didn’t like the look he got in return.

“I…” she began, then hesitated, and the look on her face… It was part disdain, sure, which he’d expected, and there was a touch of what he’d call fear, if he’d seen it on anyone else’s features, but the rest… concern? Or something like it. He found that unsettling, to say the least.

Myitt seemed to remember that she needed to breathe, and sucked in a breath. “I have…” she began again, then again, stopped. She swallowed. “Listen, Salem, I do not dream. The way my people sleep is completely different from…” she sighed, apparently frustrated with her lack of ability to say what she wanted to say, and pressed her hand to her chest. “I don’t know how I have these fragmentary memories, but I’m horrified at what he is and I…” her voice lowered to an uncharacteristic whisper, her words became a quick rush of confession, her expression one of true fear, “I feel as though something is missing. Something which I have no right to…”

Myitt pressed her eyes shut, then opened them and stared into Salem’s own eyes. “Do not trust him,” she said quietly.

Salem sat for a moment, taken aback by Myitt’s display. He might have expected her to urge caution, at least, but this… He looked away, finding some nondescript portion of the rafters to stare into.

“What he’s offering is very tempting,” he said quietly, “mostly because of what he is.”

He looked back to find her staring at him with a look that fell between amusement and incredulity. “Of course it’s tempting,” she scoffed, “that’s not the point. The point is, what does he want from you in return?”

“Oh, don’t be so presumptuous, Precious,” said a voice from beside the table. Salem and Myitt both turned with a start to see Mar himself standing next to the table, a smirk on his face. “And it’s incredibly rude to speak about someone behind their back.”

“You should be flattered,” said Salem dryly. “You’re interesting enough to speak about. Immortal, we were just talking about our deal. What’s the price? More appropriately, what’s the catch?”

Mar chuckled and gave Salem an appraising look. “Over time, a sort of… coating forms between the soul and the outside world. If I were to eat some, it would cause you to be… vulnerable emotionally. For a short while. Of course,” he smirked at Salem, “a strong fellow like yourself would be able to fight such probes, now wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t,” hissed Myitt, and Salem looked back at her to see her eyes clenched shut. She held her hand to her forehead as though something was causing her great pain.

Salem swallowed, then put on his most charming expression and turned back to Mar, “I’m going to have to put our deal on hold until I know more,” he said brightly. He turned away from the indignant look Mar gave him, back to Myitt. “You were on your way out, I believe, when I ran into you,” he said. “Would you mind company as you walk?”

Myitt stood abruptly, her eyes snapping open. She glared at Mar as she sidled out of the booth. “Yes, I would appreciate that.”

Salem followed her out the door, tipping his hat and smirking a bit at the expression on Mar’s face as he left.

“Thanks,” murmured Myitt as soon as they’d stepped into the cool air. She walked towards the forest at a brisk pace.

“I feel like I should thank you,” Salem responded. “You didn’t have to tell me what you did. You’ve validated my suspicions, at least.” He hesitated a moment, “I can offer you… something in exchange.”

“Nah, don’t mention it,” said Myitt dismissively, staring at the ground.

“You sure?” prompted Salem. “I’ve collected stuff from all over.” Myitt looked as though she’d object again, but Salem interrupted, “We can call it a peace offering after… after earlier.”

Myitt looked him up and down, as though finally really seeing him for the first time. “You wouldn’t happen to have any single use Kandrona generators hanging around, would you?”

Salem laughed, “Is that a Yeerk thing? No idea what that is, actually.” He grinned, “I might be able to track one down for you though.”

Myitt sighed, “Don’t bother. I’ll survive.” She looked into Salem’s eyes as though searching for something, then frowned and turned in the direction of the shipyard. “Temrash’s ship is this way. I think it’s time to recover my friend’s body“

Salem paused and stood, staring after her. He knew who she meant. Hadrin. There didn’t seem to be any malice in her voice, but he didn’t know whether he should follow. After all, he was at least partly to blame for the Yeerk’s death.

He was saved from his awkward moment of indecision when Myitt turned and called over her shoulder, “You don’t have to help if you don’t want to. I know humans are often loathe to be around the deceased.”

Salem shook off the feeling and stepped to catch up. “I might as well,” he offered offhandedly. “I’m not exactly a stranger to the deceased.

Myitt gave him a wry smile, “I know we didn’t exactly get off on the best of starts. What were you running from?”

Salem smiled and did his best to keep his tone light, “Lately, mostly, these rebels who seem to have it in for me. Though I keep expecting an Imperial Yeerk or an Andalite to melt out of the shadows and shoot me.”

“Sounds like it’s a wonder you’re still alive,” Myitt replied with a smirk.

“I’m not sure why I’m still here, actually,” Salem confided. “Normally I’d just pick up and move on when a place started to get too hot, but this place…” he paused. Why was he still here? “Once you get past the shooting rebels and the double-dealing Immortals and the constant threat of death, it’s not so bad.”

Myitt quickly looked at the ground, but Salem could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a smile on her face. “Yeah, some place for a pit stop, huh?”

For a moment, the walked in silence. Finally, he sighed and said wistfully, “I guess all my time on the Andalite homeworld really was just a little vacation before going back to what I do best.”

If the news of Salem having lived among the Andalites surprised Myitt, she didn’t show it. “What I don’t get is, why would a human be living among Andalites? Why would a human even be involved with the Yeerk Empire? Maybe your universe is substantially different than mine, but where I come from humans don’t just partner up with sentient androids and go flying about the galaxy.”

Salem laughed, “Yeah, ‘substantially different’ is probably an appropriate way of describing it.” He sighed, “It’s kind of a long story. I grew up in the remnants of the IPA. It’s…” he paused, “sort of a homogenous society of many species. If I hadn’t spent so much time traveling, the concept of species living in isolation on their own worlds would be… strange.” He stared at his feet, “It still is. It seems like a very lonely way to exist. I can’t imagine having only Humans for company. It sounds awful.”

He heard a definite chuckle from Myitt this time. “You should try having only Yeerks for company,” she said quietly as they stepped up to Temrash’s increasingly familiar ship. Myitt punched a code into the hull, and the hatch slid open. “Ladies first,” she said with a smirk, gesturing inside.

Salem rolled his eyes and stepped inside, looking around the interior as the lights turned on. There, in the corner, covered in some sort of black emergency blanket, was what could only be a body.

“Poor Justin,” said Myitt quietly, stepping up beside him. “He and Hadrin… They were good men. Good friends.” Her voice cracked a bit as she said friends.

“Justin…” said Salem. “That was Hadrin’s…” What was the word? “Host?”

Myitt nodded, never taking her eyes from the shrouded shape. “And his friend. They were together a long time.” She seemed to gather her resolve and stepped forward, “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

She stepped forward and knelt next to the body, pulling the sheet back gently from his face. “Poor kid,” she whispered, running the back of her hand across his pale, cold cheek. “I brought him on this stupid mission. This is my fault.” Salem felt a lump catch in his throat. It wasn’t her fault. It was his.

Drops of something fell on Justin’s collar, and with a start, Salem realized that Myitt was crying. She looked at the tears for a moment, wiped her eyes irritably, and covered his head again. She repositioned herself, looped her arms under his shoulders, and began dragging him across the floor, grunting at the effort.

Wordlessly, Salem moved forward to take hold of Justin’s legs. The body was already cold. As the pair carefully stepped out of the craft, he asked, “You two were close?”

Myitt grunted and adjusted her grip. Her response was quiet, carefully measured, “Yes. He was a good friend. Hadrin, too.”

Salem nodded, “I’m sorry I didn’t know them better. Hadrin seemed… like a bit of a jerk, honestly,” he said with a smirk that somehow still managed to convey sympathy. “I was just starting to like him.”

For a few moments, they walked in silence. Salem’s arms began to tire. He had the easier part of this carry, he knew. He glanced at Myitt, who had her arms looped under Justin’s shoulders. Perspiration beaded up on her brow, but she continued, uncomplaining, and the pair made their way across the shipyard, the only sound the shuffling of their feet.

“Computer, decloak,” Myitt said a few moments later, and a Bug Fighter shimmered into view in front of them. “Open exterior hatch.” The Bug’s ramp detached itself from the ship’s circular hatchway and settled to the ground.

“Myitt?” came a voice from inside the ship, and Salem twisted around to see a woman emerging from the ship. It was the quiet woman with the curly blonde hair that accompanied Myitt in her search of Salem’s ship. Her eyes flickered to Justin, then quickly away again. She caught sight of Salem’s face, and recognition dawned, her eyebrows shooting up in concern as she looked questioningly at Myitt.

“Tora,” acknowledged Myitt, her voice finally beginning to show signs of strain.

“Do you require assistance?” ‘Tora’ asked Myitt, still avoiding looking directly at the body. Her words were meant to sound like an offer to help with the carry, but Salem could hear the question behind them. Are you alright? What is Salem’s part in this?

“The door, please,” replied Myitt. She nodded towards Salem as Tora moved towards the back of the cramped ****pit and punched a panel in the wall. A doorway slid open, revealing the tiny rear room of the fighter, which was filled with equipment and crates of supplies.

“The human has decided to help,” Myitt explained to Tora as they carried their burden into the fighter.

“Ah,” was Tora’s only acknowledgement, and she moved to open a clear box of some sort that took up nearly half the floorspace in the room. That size and shape… Salem realized, with a bit of a jolt, that it would be Justin’s temporary coffin.

Tora helped to lower Justin’s body gently into the box. Salem straightened, and for a few moments, no one spoke, all their eyes fixed on the lifeless form of the handsome, dark-skinned man before them. He seemed… shorter, smaller, somehow, without Haviss’s presence.

“Didn’t you think to grab a mag-lev stretcher?” asked Tora quietly.

“It seems better, this way,” replied Myitt with a sad smile. She drew a shuddering breath and turned to Tora, “Will you be heading home as well?”

“I was not authorized to come here in the first place,” was Tora’s response, seeming, Salem thought, grateful for the change of subject. She cast another glance at Salem, her brow wrinkling slightly.

Myitt smiled, her composure quickly returning. “Tora, when am I ever authorized to come to this place?”

“You’re part of the same rebellion, right?” asked Salem suddenly. “A group against the Empire?” He had to know. “I just realized I don’t even know your cause. I figure I should have some idea of what…” he nodded at the body, “Of what your friends were fighting for.”

Both Myitt and Tora turned to him. Salem wasn’t sure he liked the calculating, appraising look Myitt gave him. When she responded, her tone was pedantic, almost bored, “I suppose you could say it's something as trite-sounding as freedom.  Freedom of races enslaved by our people.  Freedom of our own people from an outdated and hateful dogma.” She sighed and looked back at Justin, her words becoming more heartfelt, “Most of us just couldn’t stand making others suffer for our benefit.”

Salem nodded, his mind buzzing with possibilities. “That seems to be the problem with the Empire,” he said, almost without thinking about it. “Their willingness to take what isn’t theirs. A fight’s not worth it unless there’s an ideal worth striving for.”

The smile that Myitt gave him fell halfway between amused and impressed, but Salem hardly noticed. “It’s much better to fight for something you believe in,” she agreed, “than it is to fight, and to watch your friends die, in the name of slavery and greed. Come on,” she said, turning to Tora, “let’s go take care of your ship.”

Salem turned to leave, Myitt and Tora trailing behind him. As he reached the hatchway, he turned, intending to say something, but couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Thanks,” Myitt offered with a small smile.

“Of course,” was all the response Salem could muster. He turned and walked towards the bar without a backward glance, his mind racing.

The Yeerk Rebellion. The hidden, secretive faction in this war. The faction that opposed the Yeerk empire, that operated independently of Andalite control, that abandoned their race and their home to fight for a cause they truly believed in. The plucky, determined underdogs fighting to throw off oppression and better life everywhere. Something about this seems familiar, he thought, a grin spreading across his face. I think I’ve found my new future allies.[/spoiler]

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Yay, new chapter!!  ^^  And a time-traveling Aetheas...sounds interesting.  ^^  However you want to do it man.  I can change the reference if you want. 

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Nah, keep the reference. I think it actually fits quite well ^_^

[Shenmue654]

Myitt's epic speech about rebellion is seriously awesome.

Although granted it does feel like it was written in an earlier time, before we all ran into so many real-life  problems. Hell, even Mar's statements show both his own naivete and mine.

But man, that stuff is pretty infectious. I'd like to think we can bring a bit of it back. <3

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Me too ^_^ The Bar was so much awesome fun back in the day. Heck, this whole story is just sort of an offshoot of my desire to be doing that. Need more time in the day >.<

And I love diving into our older dialogue ^_^ So much amazing nostalgia

Anyway, who's ready for the first chapter set at the Andalite Academy? Heck, there are even crossover characters from Paragon Prince (Ossanlin's origin story).

[spoiler=Chapter 25]Tobias

Gemiga found himself drawing a breath as the lev-shuttle crested the last of the rolling hills surrounding Cendorus, and finally they looked out across the entirety of the settlement. The grid of residential scoops and graceful, curving academy buildings was tightly packed, with only a few parks between to make up for the almost-claustrophobic closeness.

The network of artificial grass and streams that stretched away from them covered a much larger swath of land than it had the last time he’d been here; a result, he supposed, of the increased recruitment in this time of war. The Academy was seeing more cadets now than ever before-- the generation of second and third sons that had been born when the Electorate had begun allowing larger families was just now coming of age to enter the Academy.

Then there was the issue of the ever-growing enrollment of females. That, Gemiga thought, was something he never thought it would come to. It was that, more than anything else, that really spoke to how desperate the war had become.

The Human called Tobias, who was standing at the window, made a noise with his mouth that Gemiga would later learn was called a ‘whistle.’

“Pretty snazzy-lookin’” commented the other, who also appeared Human. This artificial construct called itself ‘Al.’

<It is,> agreed Gemiga with a smile. His stalk-eyes traveled from the overwhelmingly large, crystal-domed Electorate building to the iconic dome-topped spire that rose from the very center of the Academy, which towered over the huge orbit-defense Shredders that dotted the landscape, and even the five spires of the Electorate Hall itself. Cendorus had grown considerably, and yet this really did feel as though he were returning home.

“That’s a mass driver,” commented Tobias, staring into the distance. Far away, nearly invisible through the last light of the setting suns, was the shape of a miles-long rail-launch system that curved smoothly up from horizontal to vertical, the very tip aimed almost straight up at the red-gold sky. Following the line of the mass driver upwards, Gemiga could see the magnetic booster-rings that hovered in the atmosphere at regular intervals. The whole launch system was far more impressive in person than any of the simulations had made it seem.

From here, it looked as though the launch system had fully recovered from the accident a few years earlier that had sent one of the rings to the ground in a blaze and destroyed a dozen outlying scoops. Though Gemiga had not been to Cendorus since before the Cyrenk shipyard and launch facility had been constructed, he could vividly remember watching the feeds of the ring crashing down onto the outskirts of the settlement, feeling as though his hearts were tearing into pieces.

“Two mass drivers,” said Al after a moment. Gemiga nearly corrected him, but then he realized: the construct was right. A second mass driver, barely half the length of the first, sat a little farther away, in a newer portion of the shipyards. It didn’t look as though it’d been completed-- the track ran perhaps halfway to vertical, and the support structure that rose out of the ground under the uncompleted track seemed jagged and uneven in places. Gemiga frowned. Strange that he’d not heard about that.

Though, he supposed, he’d had enough to worry about these last years without concerning himself with every happening at Cendorus. He knew why it would be there, of course-- the larger of the mass drivers was intended to launch parts for Dome Ship construction. As the Yeerk fleet had grown, even the new Mark III Dome Ships were feeling the strain, often unable to locate themselves where they were needed in time to do any good. There were murmurings in the military that the Electorate would have to allocate more resources towards the construction of a smaller, more versatile fleet, but this was the first evidence Gemiga had seen that any such action was being taken. Indeed, it was encouraging to see the Electorate responding to anything in such a timely manner.

This shuttle contained several other Andalites; new recruits, future cadets headed for the Academy. Most seemed disinclined to speak in the presence of a War-Prince-- including, Gemiga thought with a smile, the pair of bawdy twins towards the back of the car, who’d been boisterous and confident until they’d noticed his presence. One young recruit, however, had inched closer and closer to Gemiga and his off-world guests. The recruit was doing his best to look nonchalant, but his stalk eyes seemed to be continuously trained on either Gemiga or Tobias.

<Have you ever been to Cendorus before?> Gemiga asked the youngling, smiling.

The recruit’s main eyes turned towards Gemiga, and when he realized that the War Prince was, in fact, addressing him, the color drained from his face. <Um…> he managed to choke out.

Tobias’s laugh startled Gemiga, and he glanced around the compartment. He hadn’t realized that every eye had turned to him and the recruit. No longer were any of the other recruits even attempting to hide their curiosity for the War-Prince and his two alien companions in this corner. The recruit he’d addressed looked as though he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a corner and disappear.

“They actually do find him intimidating,” Tobias whispered to Al with a smirk.

“Amateurs,” he heard Al mutter under his breath. The construct shot Tobias a glare, then smiled warmly at the recruit. Whatever instinct told Al to hide his teeth was a good one, since teeth tended to be unsettling to Andalites. Sentient creatures with mouths always came across as so… alien.

“It’s our first time here,” Al said to the recruit in flawless Galard. “We’re a little nervous. Do you know of any places that’d be good to visit here?”

The recruit drew a deep breath and focused all four eyes on Al, shutting out the rest of the world. <Um…> he began again, his gaze flickering to Gemiga, who did his best to only keep one stalk eye on the recruit. <I was here once. A long time ago. I was little.>

“Not exactly an adult now,” Tobias muttered, smirking again. Al punched him in the arm.

“I’m worried we’ll make some kind of cultural misstep,” he conferred to the recruit in a conspiratorial tone, leaning closer.

The recruit laughed, <I wouldn’t worry about that,> he offered, also leaning in, in spite of the fact that it wouldn’t affect the sound of thought speech. <Andalites are pretty open-minded.> The way Al continued nodding, Gemiga gathered that the recruit was saying something to him in private. The pair both glanced at Tobias, then Gemiga, and Al motioned for the recruit to come closer. When he had, the construct leaned in and said something in his ear, so quietly that Gemiga couldn’t make it out. Strange… he’d never considered that it would be possible to speak privately with audible speech.

Al leaned back again and grinned at the recruit, and at the same moment they both burst out laughing. Gemiga caught the indignant look on Tobias’s face and smiled himself. <<Your friend is quite impressive,> he said to the Human privately.

“Right,” muttered Tobias without taking his glare from the back of Al’s head.

“My name’s Al, by the way,” said Al, offering his hand to the recruit.

<I am cadet Geris-Helin-Perimana,> said the recruit, smiling now. After a few seconds, Al gently reached out and grabbed Geris’s hand with his own, moving it up and down in what Gemiga presumed was a Human greeting.
“Doofus here calls himself Tobias,” said Al, gesturing to the Human. “Mr. Intimidating is War-Prince Gemiga-Zelit-Fennsa.”

In spite of his nerves, Geris managed a respectful lowering of his tail towards Gemiga.

<I believe you’ll enjoy the Academy, Geris> said Gemiga. <I know I did.>

<I… I hope so, sir,> replied Geris. Gemiga couldn’t help noticing the way the recruit’s stalk eyes continuously drifted towards Tobias even as he spoke.

<These are guests, and my newest recruits to the Academy,> Gemiga explained. <I believe they may have much to teach us.>

Geris nodded, though his confusion showed clearly in his face. Gemiga noted, with some amusement, an almost-identical expression on Tobias’s face.

<What… are they, sir?> asked Geris, clearly not sure if the question would come across as rude or not.

Gemiga laughed, <This one is Human,> he said, gesturing to Tobias, whose look of confusion was quickly becoming a glare. <The other is an artificial construct.>

<Really?> asked Geris, turning all four eyes to Al, and finally the last bits of his discomfort had begun to melt away.
<Wow. That’s… you look so much like him. Did… did Humans create you, or…>

“Not by a long shot,” laughed Al. “I was actually…”

Gemiga missed the rest of whatever Al was saying to the recruit, however, as Tobias grabbed him by the elbow and led him, somewhat forcefully, to an empty space nearby.

“I thought you said I was going to be giving survival lessons or whatever,” hissed Tobias. “You said nothing about me being a recruit at the Academy.”

<The Academy has never seen a non-Andalite member. They will want confirmation that you are capable of passing all the basic courses before they will allow you to instruct,> explained Gemiga with a smile.

“Instruct?” replied Tobias, aghast. “Like, as a job? Not doing it. I don’t have any desire to be breaking cultural norms and pioneering open-mindedness in your society. That’s not what I asked for.”

<No,> confirmed Gemiga, <what you asked for was a vacation.>

“Still can’t believe you agreed to that,” interrupted Tobias, gingerly rubbing the back of his head and wincing. He caught sight of the look on Gemiga’s face and waved a hand, “Continue, sorry."

<What you asked for,> Gemiga continued once he was sure Tobias wouldn’t interrupt again, <was a chance to get away from what you considered the drudgery of your day-to-day existence. I don’t believe relaxing would do you any good, based on what you’ve told me.>

“Probably right on that count,” muttered Tobias, staring out the window at the scoops that now whipped by on both sides. They’d slowed to in-settlement speed, and would be arriving at their destination shortly, a platform near the Academy’s central spire.

<I believe this to be a good opportunity for both you and for the Andalite people,> explained Gemiga. <You get to do something you’ve never done before, something that should prove challenging and satisfying. We, in turn, gain an outside perspective.>

Tobias snorted, “You could get that anywhere.”

<Ah, but you come highly recommended.>

“By Emelen,” guessed Tobias. “He shouldn’t even know my name.”

<How many humans with black ships and android companions can there be in this sector of the galaxy?>

Tobias groaned, “I hope he’s not spreading that to everyone.”

Gemiga laughed, <No, I don’t believe he is. He and I converse frequently.>

“What a coincidence,” said Tobias dryly.

<Really? Wow!> came a shout from Geris. Tobias and Gemiga both glanced over briefly to see he and Al engaged in what was apparently an enthralling discussion. Some of the other recruits had even begun to drift their way.

<Emelen was one of my brightest students when I taught here,> said Gemiga. <He and I have become friends since I was called back to the front.>

“Uh huh. And what brings you here now?”

<Retirement. I am getting too old for space combat, but the Electorate has decided that I might still be useful here,> Gemiga said with a smirk. Technically, that was the truth. There was no need to reveal the whole story to this Human.

Tobias sighed, bracing himself slightly as the shuttle came to a halt at the platform. Gemiga was impressed that the Human didn’t tumble to the ground. He really was far more stable on those two legs than he looked.

<There is Prince Raigar,> said Gemiga with a smile, indicating the eldest Andalite on the platform. Most of the others were higher-year students who had been assigned to show the new recruits to their scoops and orient them on the Academy’s policies. Indeed, as the shuttle’s doors opened and the recruits made their way out, all thought-speaking loudly, each of the older students gathered two or three of the recruits to himself and led them away.

Al and Geris laughed loudly at something as they said their goodbyes, and Geris waved as he slung a pack over his shoulder and made his way towards the only female student picking up recruits. He was joined, Gemiga noticed, by a female recruit, and responded to something she’d said by blushing and stammering as he was led away.

<Hello, my friend,> said Gemiga, stepping up to Raigar as the students cleared the platform and the noise died down. Al and Tobias followed.

<It’s been a long time,> responded Raigar, raising his tailblade and gently crossing it with Gemiga’s own. <There is much to talk about.> Switching to private thought-speech, he said, <<Your timing could not be better. I do all I can, but sometimes one voice at the Academy is not enough.>>

<Our discussion will have to wait,> said Gemiga regretfully. <I will be expected to check in at the Electorate Hall. In the meantime, this is Al, and this is Tobias.>

“‘Sup,” offered Al by way of greeting.

<Ah, hello,> said Raigar. <So you’re the ones Emelen spoke of.> If he hadn’t been watching for it, Gemiga would have missed the way Raigar spoke quietly, so that Emelen’s name should not be overheard.

“Psh,” said Tobias. “Right. Cause that punk kid’s sure to sing such high praises of me.”

Raigar looked slightly confused at that comment, but turned away from the platform anyway. <If you’ll follow me, we can get you both settled in. I’m looking forward to getting to know you.>

Al stepped to keep up with Raigar, and immediately began a conversation by pointing to the spire at the center of campus, which towered over them and pierced the sky from this vantage point, and asking some question about it. Raigar responded only too happily.

Tobias groaned. “Okay.” He turned to Gemiga. “Okay, fine, I’ll test out of a few basic classes and see how things go. But I’m telling you, Andalite,” he said, locking a steely gaze on Gemiga’s main eyes, “once I start to get sick of this place, I’m gone.“

<I’ve no doubt that you’ll be up to the challenge of doing what it takes to stay,> said Gemiga, and, with a smirk, turned towards the Hall of the Electorate. Tobias glared after him, then turned to follow Raigar and Al towards the domed central common, and to the lift within that would take them to the top of the towering spire.

Gemiga’s old joints rejoiced at the chance to stretch and run across the fields of the homeworld-- even the artificial fields of the Academy-- and he found himself sighing with pleasure and breaking into a gallop, taking a roundabout route to the Hall of the Electorate, and enjoying the fresh air and the real breeze far more than the thought of the meeting he was headed for. Here and there cadets and instructors wandered to and fro, talking or playing or training. The Academy hadn’t changed a bit, he thought, except for how much it had grown.

As the suns set and the sky darkened, he found himself stopping at the front door and staring up into the familiar sky that he’d not seen in so very long. Every new star that appeared was like an old friend in the night. Two of the moons now rose on the horizon, even as a third followed the suns down in the west. And there, almost directly overhead, the shape of the Sky Garden was becoming visible, no longer hidden by the diffraction of sunlight through the atmosphere.

Gemiga stood and watched for a while as the Sky Garden grew ever brighter, its lobes catching the setting sun at just the right angle. Its geostationary orbit kept it steady overhead, like a four-petalled flower, large enough that its overall shape could be made out even from here. It stood in the sky, like a beacon of hope to all the Andalite people.

And what they needed so badly right now was hope.[/spoiler]

[Aluminator (Kit)]

If you're not confused by the names yet, I promise, you will be soon!

[spoiler=Chapter 26]Jaron

NOT ACCEPTABLE! boomed the psychic voice, exploding into Tobias’s consciousness as waves of sound and light and color and pain. This was just what he needed, on top of the headache he’d already had.

“Please don’t shout,” he pleaded with the greyish, rubbery creature seated at the table.

THERE IS NO FRESH VANTLIA ON MY SALAD!

Looking around, Tobias could see that he wasn’t the only one being affected. The customers at the other two occupied tables had pained looks on their faces, and were glaring in his direction.

Pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, Tobias replied as calmly as he could, “I’m sorry. We ran out. If there’s something else I can do…”

THERE HAS ALWAYS BEEN VANTLIA BEFORE! shouted the creature, laboriously swiveling its huge head and staring at Tobias with eyes that weren’t eyes, with sight that could see what wasn’t there. I HAVE FREQUENTED THIS PLACE FOR YEARS AND NEVER BEEN SHORTED VANTLIA! NOT ACCEPTABLE!

“Look,” said Tobias through gritted teeth, “I appreciate your continued patronage, Larry, I do, but you shouting isn’t going to make vantlia appear. Is there some way I can make it up to you?”

NO! shouted the creature, standing up and flipping its table with one of its gigantic hands. Bread and salad and silverware tumbled to the floor with a terrific crash. It stood and waddled angrily out the door, its skinny, flimsy body secreting rage pheromones as it went.

“Great,” muttered Tobias as he watched the other two tables clear out and run for the door without paying, covering their faces and looking half-sick. He wrinkled his nose as the pheromones reached him. “And now it smells like a dumpster.”

“Would you like me to talk to him?” asked Yooie.

Tobias sighed. “If you wouldn’t mind. You may want to wait til he’s calmed down a bit first, though.”

“I wasn’t built yesterday,” said Yooie indignantly.

“See if you can’t apologize to the other customers for me, too, Yooie. Thanks.”

“They have no hard feelings towards you. The Syler already paid for his family’s meal from outside. Left you a decent sympathy tip, too.”

“Hm.”

“What was all that about?” came a voice from the kitchen. Tobias turned to see Frea, his newest Radonian chef-in-training, standing in the doorway, gently drying one of the last pots to be put away with a dish towel.

“No vantlia,” said Tobias with a shrug. “Grab the air freshener, please.”

“How come? It doesn’t…” Frea finally caught a whiff of the lingering pheromones, and her face turned slightly green. “Ugh. Coming up.”

Tobias stood for a moment, hands on his hips, trying not to breathe through his nose, then bent and picked the overturned table back up with a grunt. A moment later, Frea re-entered the dining room and let loose with a liberal spray of air freshener.

Once the air was reasonably breathable again, the pair returned to their normal cleaning routine, which, Tobias noted with some satisfaction, Frea seemed to be learning quite well. What little speaking they did was mostly to joke about annoying customers. Frea was trying to keep things light, Tobias could tell, but his heart just wasn’t in it tonight.

Finally, Frea couldn’t find anything else on the checklist that needed to be cleaned. “So… we’re done, right?” she asked, looking over the clipboard at him hopefully.

Tobias smiled weakly at her from across the dining room. “Yeah, we’re done. Good work tonight, Frea. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, returning his smile. She turned and took her coat and hat off the hook, then turned back to him as she put them on. “You coming?”

“I won’t be long. You go. Have fun doing whatever you kids do these days,” he replied.

“That would be studying,” she said, rolling her eyes. “See you tomorrow!” She turned and walked through the door into the station’s bright outdoor lighting, almost- but not quite- concealing her concerned look back at Tobias as the door swung shut.

Once he heard the latch click, Tobias finally allowed himself to slump against the wall. If his headache had been bad before, it was horrible now, between the psychic shouting and the stench of pheromones and the plain old everyday stress.

After a few minutes of quiet, the headache had repaired itself and Tobias had gotten his thoughts settled a bit, so he stepped out onto the restaurant’s main deck to leave, squinting in the bright daylight. He stepped over the the gravity-lane, and Yooie picked him up off the deck and sent him through the air in the direction of home.

When he’d first arrived at the station, every commute through the bustling, busy station Center had been an exercise in sensory overload, but now he barely noticed the activity buzzing all around him as he flew through the air and then walked across the floor towards home. He powered all the way back as though on autopilot, through corridors that became smaller and less crowded as he went.

In fact, he was so absorbed into his own thoughts that he almost bumped into Jaron, who was on the way out the front door.

“Hey dad!” said the boy offhandedly as he made a move to sidestep Tobias.

“Hey, Jaron,” answered Tobias automatically. He stepped in the opposite direction of Jaron, then thought better of it, and gently grabbed the boy’s shoulder. Jaron stopped, but not without rolling his eyes. “Where is it you’re headed?” Tobias asked.

“Raicca’s,” answered Jaron with a shrug, and tried to move past Tobias. Tobias stepped to the side, partially blocking Jaron’s escape, and was answered with a groan. “Dad, come on.”

“You finished your homework then, right?” asked Tobias, keeping his face stern.

“Most of it,” Jaron responded, looking impatiently past Tobias, but no longer physically trying to escape.

“Jaron…”

“I’ll do it when I get back! What’s the big deal?” Jaron asked shrilly.

“The big deal is that we agreed that you need to finish your homework before you head out,” said Tobias. “Yooie’s supposed to be monitoring that for me.”

“He’s a good kid,” responded Yooie happily.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Tobias snapped at Yooie. To Jaron, he said, “Did you clean up like I asked?”

Jaron groaned again. “Not all of it, but I can finish it when I…”

“Jaron, we had a deal, right? You need to do that before I can let you go out.”

“Dad, there’s nothing to eat here!” whined Jaron. “Aspic’s making dinner, and then we’re gonna do our homework at the clubhouse!”

Tobias sighed, “Right. Like I believe that this time you’ll actually get your homework done. Fact remains that you agreed to clean your room before you went out tonight. Back inside, please.”

“You’re such a jerk! I can’t clean when I’m this hungry!” shouted Jaron, and with that he stormed back through the door and to his room. The door slammed shut, and from behind it Tobias could hear thumping and crashing noises that he hoped signified angry cleaning.

Tobias sighed, feeling weary and drained. He wandered to his own room and changed into more comfortable clothing, then sat at his desk and buried his face in his hands. Breathe. Just breathe. The restaurant. He never could seem to get the restaurant right. These years of running it, and there was always still something wrong, something not prepared correctly, something they’d run out of.

He heard the front door slam shut. That would be Jaron, taking his opportunity to leave. Tobias knew he should get up, go to stop him, but he didn’t want this to turn into a fight with the boy like the other night. He didn’t have the energy for that. It was beginning to feel like Jaron was a stranger, someone Tobias didn’t know at all, and he was at a loss for ways to reconnect.

“Yooie, would you please stop him?” he muttered without raising his head or opening his eyes.

“Stop who?” asked Yooie innocently.

“You are so useless when it comes to that boy…”

And then there was the offer Jansheian had made him the other day, still weighing on his mind. “Just something to take your nerves off,” the Calrin with the slicked-back green furgrowths had said. “You seem stressed.”

Tobias had turned him down, of course, had waved off the vial of Eidrazine-laced water that Jansheian had held out to him. He was off the stuff, he’d told the Calrin. Recovered. He had a son now. A family. He couldn’t afford to risk a relapse.

At this moment, however, he found himself wishing he’d kept the vial, wishing he could just sink into the cool unconcern offered by the Eidrazine. It would only last a few hours, but while it did last, he knew, it would be beyond bliss to just allow his concerns to melt away.

You’d rather sink back into your addiction than put forth the effort to fix your life, he thought bitterly to himself.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he responded aloud. He knew he couldn’t do this, couldn’t allow himself to sink into the pits of self-pity, that this was a waste of his time. But really, then, what was his time worth to begin with?

He shuddered and pressed his hands tighter to his face. He was falling apart, and he knew it. It was as though his world had been coming apart at the seams for years. Ever since… well, ever since moving to this station. Ever since Gina…

His thoughts were interrupted by a ringing trill. He jerked his head around. What…?

Oh. A call. That was the communications system trilling.

“Ugh,” he said, sitting up and wiping his eyes. He drew a shuddering breath. “Yooie, who’s that?”

“Iris Rodriguez, returning your call,” replied Yooie. “You want me to take a message?”

The thought of Iris brought a small smile to Tobias’s face. “No, thanks, Yooie, I’ll take this one.”

A figure flicked into being in the center of the room, just off the corner of the bed, and Tobias swiveled in his seat to face it. There, seated in a royal blue Taigomite desk chair, was a rail-thin woman of around Tobias’s age. She had smooth, olive-colored skin and long, wavy, jet-black hair. Had she stood, she would have been almost of height with Tobias. She wore a light blue tank-top and loose-fitting grey pants. She sat with her legs pulled up and crossed on the chair. More lines and creases crossed her face than he remembered… but then, he supposed, she’d probably be thinking the same of him. It’d been a while since they’d spoken.

She looked tired, but when she saw Tobias, she smiled warmly, and the years seemed to disappear from her features. Her dull brown eyes lit up, again becoming the ones he remembered from so long ago. Her sharp features seemed so very softened by the presence of that smile.

“Good to see you, Iris,” he said, unable to keep a grin from spreading across his face as well.

“You too, Michael,” she said. “It’s been too long. You look exhausted.”

“You’re sure this call is secure?” he asked.

“I hope so!” she said. “It’s not cheap.”

Tobias smiled. Iris’s word was good enough for him. “How’ve you been?” he asked.

“Good. Tired,” she replied. “The twins are getting to be a handful.”

“That’s right!” said Tobias. “I knew you were going to have twins. You were nearly due the last time we talked.”

She blinked at him. “They just turned two.”

“Has it been that long since we talked?”

“I think so,” she said tentatively, as though unsure.

“What was it you named them?” he asked. “I’d like to meet them.”

“Oh…” she looked over her shoulder. “That’ll have to be another time. I just got them to bed.”

“Fair,” admitted Tobias.

“Their names are Sherry and Gary,” she said.

“I knew it was something ridiculous,” Tobias teased. “You just had to go for the rhyming twin names, didn’t you?”

“Their names are adorable,” she replied timidly. “I love them both.”

“Iris, they’re your kids. I’m sure there’s a lot to love about them,” said Tobias, still wearing his ‘I’m teasing you’ smirk. “But you know they’re going to get picked on every day for those names.”

“Well…” Iris said, then paused. “A lot of it is that Hander wanted to call them that…”

“Right,” Tobias said, rolling his eyes, then working to push down the weird pang of jealousy he’d felt at the mention of Hander. There was no reason for that. “How’s the ol’ husband doing these days anyway?” he asked, keeping, he thought, almost all of the resentment out of his voice.

“He’s good!” she replied, then thought for a moment. “Busy a lot. But we all are, right?”

“Too right,” sighed Tobias.

“He’s making more time to spend here with us lately, though, so that’s been nice.”

“Mm.”

“I think he still wants you to come visit,” she said, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Tobias laughed, “Iris, I’m a fugitive from the IPA now, remember? I’d be arrested if I got within a thousand lightyears.”

“I know,” she said, her face falling… though her smile never quite left it. “It’d just be nice to catch up. In person for once.”

“Some day,” he promised. “By the way, have you heard from my mom lately?”

“Mmm…” Iris paused to think for a moment. “Not really. She and Hiro were doing good the last I heard.”

“Hm. How about my grandma?”

“Vivian? She’s good. My mom sees her sometimes,” answered Iris. “Why don’t you call them?”
“It’s risky enough calling you,” he answered, the same answer he’d given her a dozen times before. “I can’t be letting the IPA see that I’m still alive. My family would be the ones in trouble then.”

“They miss you,” said Iris softly.

“Some day…”

“So how have you been?” she asked.

“I’ve been…” he paused, searching for the right words. “Not great.”

“Are you still having trouble running the restaurant, or…”

“Yeah,” said Tobias. “It shouldn’t be all that hard, but there are so many details and so many little things, and I always manage to miss something, and for some reason I just can’t wrap my head around everything, and there’s always somebody unhappy, and a Greslican farted at me tonight, and I…”

Iris stifled a laugh, and hid her smile behind her hand. Tobias groaned, “Iris.” After a moment, however, his annoyance gave way to his own smile at just how ineffectual she was in hiding her amusement.

“I’m sorry,” she said after she’d taken a few seconds to compose herself.

“No, it’s okay,” he said.

“How’s Jaron?”

“He’s…” Tobias paused. “He’s turning into a teenager a bit too fast for my taste. We fight about everything, and I never know what to…” he sucked back a sob. “Iris, I wish Gina was here. She’d know what to do with him. And she was the one with the eye for detail. The organized one. She was supposed to help me. That’s why we were doing a restaurant. It was supposed to take both of us. It was…” he stopped talking, on the verge of tears again.

“You still miss her,” Iris observed quietly.

“Every day,” he admitted.

“Haven’t you met anyone there?”

“Well…” how to phrase this. “Yes. Sorta. There aren’t that many Humans here,” he said. “Kurt and Trini keep trying to set me up with everyone who comes along but so far…”

“Maybe you just need to give the next one a better chance,” she offered.

Tobias sighed, “Maybe.” Then he smirked. “But the one they have for me next week is someone named… what was it… Bianca, or something like that,” he said in his teasing tone of voice. “Have you ever known anybody nice named Bianca? I might as well just call this off now.”

“Oh… hush,” said Iris, looking slightly appalled.

“Kidding. Kidding,” he said, holding up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of innocence. “I’m sure she’s very nice. I’ll be sure to…”

He was interrupted when Iris turned to the side and spoke to someone, the sound muted by the system. A moment later, she turned back to him. “Hander’s home. I’m sorry. I have to go for now. Can we talk again tomorrow?”

“I’d like that. Talk to you soon,” he said.

“Bye!” and with that she disappeared from the room.

With a sigh, Tobias stood up. He managed to make it as far as the bed before he flopped down and rolled over, staring at the ceiling. “Hey, Yooie, you know that picture of Gina I really liked?”

“The one you found the other day?” asked Yooie.

“Yeah. Can you put that on the ceiling for me?”

There was a delay of a second or two as Yooie looked up the picture, and then the light diffusing through the room muted and changed until Tobias found him looking straight up into the face of an unbearably beautiful woman of Asian descent, whose features so closely resembled those of the son that had stormed out not long ago. The picture had been taken less than a month before they’d left Earth, near a tiny ghost town known as ‘Chicago’, on their first outing after Aaron’s birth. Gina sat atop a black stallion, which was tossing its head and bucking. She wore what she’d insisted was a ridiculous riding outfit-- tan pants and high boots, with a riding jacket, helmet and gloves. In spite of how much she scoffed, though, she looked gorgeous, as Tobias had told her repeatedly.

She’d never ridden before that, and her horse had chosen to misbehave, shaking and tossing its head in a way that it must have known a beginning rider wouldn’t like. Seconds after he’d snapped the picture, Tobias could distinctly remember dropping his imager, handing Aaron carefully to the owner of the horses, and running over to help her. He needn’t have worried, of course- this was Gina. In the picture, her head was thrown up into a wild laugh. She’d managed to stay on the horse, and had even playfully chided Tobias for calming it.

Thinking about it, Tobias found himself laughing, but within moments he was on the verge of tears again, and could do nothing but lie on his back and stare, wide-eyed, at the picture. “Gina…” he whispered, feeling as though all the strength had drained from his limbs. She looked so young… she’d been so young...

He didn’t know how long he lay there, but at one point he heard the door open and shut as Jaron snuck back home. Late. It must have gotten very late.

Finally, he reached a point where he could no longer physically stay awake, and he drifted into a restless sleep.[/spoiler]