Work Text:
Sunday, 5 September, 2010
I heard the angry, aimless ranting of Carl Grayson, my editor, coming through the elevator doors before it even came to a stop. Legend has it Carl’s tirades are so loud that the property owner keeps floors forty-eight and fifty vacant on purpose. Apparently, it’s worth a couple hundred grand a month to have a Grayson buffer zone.
“‘Everyone but Cassie’, what an idiot I was. It was a sign, dammit, nothing good was gonna come from an Animorphs piece without Little Miss Greenpeace Mascot...”
He’d been singing a different tune three days ago, when the interview seemingly fell into our lap. “This’ll teach those Rolling Stone assholes who they’re dealing with. Leslie, drop what you’re doing, get on the phone, say ‘yes’ to everything.” And I did. The other four Animorphs agreed to—scratch that, asked for—a sit down with Vanity Fair. It seemed career defining. Well, that might still be true...
Now, I was hungry, exhausted from two flights, and my head was still spinning from the events. I’d thought about nothing but those last few minutes at the hotel for about six hours now, and I still couldn’t really piece it together. Security (or were they cops?) had swept Remmy, Taryn and I into our rented van without a word. The precious laptop was the only thing Remmy had been able to grab.
“...it would have been fine if Marco had skipped, everyone’s sick of him. They’d understand if the alien couldn’t make it...”
I made a quick, childish wish that the doors somehow wouldn’t open. That “emergency stop” button works when the elevator is standing still, right? What if I…
Ding.
I ignored the bulky laptop bag bouncing off my hip as I exited the elevator. I managed the most feeble wave hello to Jenniet, Carl’s secretary. She greeted me with a sympathetic look, but didn’t say anything.
Carl was pacing behind his desk, glaring at the fifty inch flat screen on the adjacent wall. The rapidly-darkening New York City skyline loomed behind him. It seems to be a law of the corporate world that such views shall only be granted to men who have no ability to appreciate them.
“...why’d I let them get to me? Couldn’t let it go. Just couldn’t get over Rolling Stone scoring an exclusive with Cassie the Animorph. ‘How ya gonna top that, Grayson?’ Moron...”
He didn’t notice me. I figured I could change that: “I seem to remember you assuring me ’Don’t worry, she’s consistently the least popular of the five.’ You were extremely confident on that, Carl. ‘The only reason anybody cares at all is because she was the only one left for five years.’”
He actually glanced away from the screen for a second. That really had hit home.
“Yeah, that was me thinking with my marketing brain,” he said, a little calmer. “It’d be stupid to put her in, say, a perfume ad. But when one member from an ensemble sets up an exclusive, that has intrigue. It reads like some juicy tell-all. Even if it’s not! They’re not unpopular, they’re ‘misunderstood.’ Now, if we’d just gotten one Animorph for ourselves—not Marco, it’d have to be Jake. Maybe Tobias—”
“There’s something you don’t know about that—” I started.
“Good, I prefer it that way. I make better decisions when I don’t know what I’m doing.”
As I put my laptop bag down on the closest chair, I caught a quick glance at the screen. MSNBC. It was muted. The footage cycled from a shot of an empty patch of ocean. The chyron read “An Alien Exodus?”. What did that mean?
“So what happened?” Carl continued. “Before it all went down? You get anything out of ‘em?”
“You… you didn’t read the copy I sent, did you?” I said indignantly. “I paid twelve bucks for in-flight WiFi to get you something after risking my life and you didn’t even read it?”
“Open your ears, Leslie! I told you, the less I know the better!”
“Then why ask now?”
Carl looked back to the TV. This time, his expression slipped a little; anger gave way, briefly, to worry. I felt an eerie familiarity to this… I was in the room with him, but he wasn’t in the room with me. I’d experienced plenty of that feeling earlier today.
I reached for my bag, unzipped it, and pulled out the laptop.
“If you didn’t read it by now, don’t bother. You just need to hear it.”
Marco picked the location. Or at least, his people did. The world-famous Wequassett resort in Massachusetts. I was surprised. Not the five-star resort part, that was on-brand. But I was surprised they asked for an East Coast location. Over the phone, Marco had made a crack that he picked the place because he found the name hilarious.
Remmy, my audio tech, Taryn, our courtesy assistant (a.k.a. ‘don’t call them interns!’), and I had arrived at 8:30am, after a 6am flight. We were in one of their nicer conference rooms, which was actually two rooms: an anteroom right off the hall, and an inner room, where we’d have the actual interview. I was surprised by the complete lack of windows.
Jake arrived early. As in, ‘we were still setting up’ early. He ostensibly arrived with Jeanne Gerard and Master Sgt. Santorelli. But while the latter two went through the motions of checking in with reception and being escorted by Taryn, Jake just popped up in the conference room. Did he morph in? Or just walk past everybody?
You’d think he’d draw attention, like most celebrities. But the divorce between his popular image and his real-life presence is vast. There’s a weariness to him that makes you instinctively look away, the same way you try a little too hard not to stare at a man with one leg missing. Jake Berenson: one of the top 10 most globally recognizable names of the 21st century, and he doesn’t need to morph to be invisible.
With minimal pleasantries, Jake took a seat and... just sat there. After the first hour, we kind of forgot he was there.
And then, there’s Ax…
After Marco confirmed all four in-person, we’d assumed Ax had covertly returned to Earth. That was a mistake.
We heard chatter from the resort staff first—the “Dome” portion of an Andalite Dome Ship had made an unannounced, leisurely descent into Pleasant Bay. The parallel to Ax’s first arrival on Earth was lost on no one.
It was another hour before Ax walked into the room. Two other Andalites making up his… bodyguards? Attaché?... joined Gerard and Santorelli in the anteroom. I didn’t learn until later that the dome-to-shore leg of their journey involved a trio of vehicles not entirely unlike jet skis, followed by a processional gallop across the Wequassett’s golf course, with no regard for games in progress. So much for a low profile.
This was an entrance Marco simply could not top, but he damn well tried. He arrived two hours late (an assumption we’d worked into the schedule—man’s got a reputation), screeching into the drop-off zone in some six-figure performance car whose name ends in a vowel.
Like the others, he wasn’t alone. His passenger was a fair-skinned, short-haired blonde woman, smartly dressed, an easy six inches taller than him. We confronted them—with extreme trepidation—when Marco’s “guest” tried to accompany him into the interview space. “Animorphs only”; it was on top of the short list of rules we’d agreed to. Things nearly spiraled when the conversation actually veered into “Do you know who I am?” territory, in full view of Santorelli, Gerard, and Ax’s escorts, when Jake emerged, having slipped everyone’s mind. He gestured both Marco and the mystery woman to come in.
“Marco.”
“Good to see you, man.”
I was relieved to hear that Remmy’s extra mic had indeed picked up the anteroom conversation, at least when the door was open. I heard a quiet “pat pat” sound that I recognized as Jake and Marco’s quick bro-hug.
“Ax-Man, that stunt in the bay was amazing! The wave when it touched down soaked more than a few tourists.”
Carl was still standing, arms crossed, staring at a blank space on his desk. He started to fidget after about five seconds of hearing silence. “What the hell’s happening now?”
“Ax responded in private thoughtspeak. We didn’t hear anything.”
“What about the... the gizmo?”
“The TSM wouldn’t have mattered, Carl! Like I said, private thoughtspeak. The machine doesn’t change that.”
I tried to recall what was happening ‘now’ in the recorded silence. Their body language had indicated that all the Animorphs, and their escorts, were listening to whatever tale Ax was telling. Then, Ax had turned his attention to the mystery woman.
Very slowly, Ax had raised his scythe blade, and the woman met it with her forearm, forming a cross. We knew the tailblade-cross as a greeting among Andalite shorms, but we’ve never seen a human participate.
“Missed you, Ax.”
After a pause, she and Jake had exchanged a terse handshake.
“Jake.”
“Tobi.”
Carl snapped to attention. “Wait, who?”
“I’m sorry, what was that name?”
As always, I cringed at the sound of my own recorded voice. There was going to be plenty more of that soon. First, Marco:
“Sorry, Leslie, I know this isn’t what you were expecting, but it wasn’t my business to tell you. Tobi can introduce herself.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Tobi Fangor.”
“Wait, so it’s a morph?”
“No, Carl.”
There’s a reason why, despite all the rapidly-adopted Andalite tech, paranoia has never been higher. Why meetings that “could have been an email” are not only in-person, but always seem to have a reason to last a little over two hours. In a world where many people (too many, or few, depending on which activist you’re asking) can do what these four can, how do you ever really know who you’re talking to?
It’s not an accident that this meeting came together with Marco brokering it. Marco Fulton is not just a person; he’s a brand. Investors, attorneys, assistants, the works. His presence is verifiable.
Jake’s should be too, in theory. While I never bought into this personally, many people are convinced that the government, or even the Andalites, have a spare Jake Berenson or two.
So it goes like this: Marco’s company authenticates him. And Marco authenticates the Animorphs. Once he does: no one in, no one out, and no one morphs. We gave him the widest berth in other matters; the place, the time, security detail, catering, room temperature. Up to the morning of, he even could have “fired” me and requested any other staff member to conduct the interview; we had charter flights standing by in New York, LA, and London.
But, no morphs. It’s why Remmy had to rig up that nightmare Thought-Speak Module instead of just letting Ax morph human (I’m sure the annoyance was mutual; Marco’s insistence on setting up the charcuterie platter and taco bar right next to Ax seemed like one of his jokes). And since we had to set up the translators anyway, they should have worked on a hawk just as well as an Andalite...
Instead, here we were with no hawk, and a face and name that the public has never seen before. But Marco was unambiguous—she was the fourth Animorph. And if this wasn’t a morph, that could only mean…
We heard the door shut. Some chairs shuffling. My voice came in much clearer.
“OK, before we started, let’s just get some level checks on all of you.”
“Yeah, I’m used to this.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
Marco and Jake.
“Remmy, are you ready?… OK, will you all state your names, ages, and current occupation or field of study, if applicable?”
“Real Pulitzer level stuff, Leslie.”
“Shut up.” But he was right, I sounded like a kindergarten teacher just then. It would get better. Before it got—
“Jacob Berenson, 26, independent consultant for the DoD, tactical division.”
“Pfff. Wow, that just sounds so… eh, whatever. Marco Fulton, 25, I’m an actor.”
“Tobi Fangor. I’m… wow, this is the first time I’ve had to answer that... I was born 26 years ago, but this body is a little less than a year, but its average age is… twenty-eight?. And I’m thinking of studying ornithology.”
“And… Mr? Do you go by Aximili or Ax? I see, Ax it is. Ok… wait, I don't think Remmy’s getting you… right, I can ‘hear’ you, but I don't think the equipment can. You need to direct private thoughtspeak at the device. Are you doing it? Wait, sorry, try to keep a private thought-speak stream going. Don’t stop to communicate with me… Are you doing it? Two for ‘yes’, one for ‘no.’”
Clop. Clop.
Carl’s eyes bored through my skull.
“I thought he’d clap or something...” I offered, pathetically.
Some more painful silence, while Remmy had desperately fiddled with the TSM.
<...Proud Esplin’s Army, and sent him homeward—>
“Perfect, we’ve got you now. Great! Whew, thought we were gonna have to use Morse Code for a second there… well, good afternoon. My name is—”
“—Leslie Howard, with Vanity Fair. The Animorphs: Intrepid veterans with a keen wish—peace on Earth. Most heroes might be content to save the world once, but you’ve gone and overachieved, saving perhaps even the galaxy itself. I don’t think there’s a human alive who hasn’t heard about your miraculous deliverance from the Kelbrid sector last year, after a five year absence here on Earth.”
One of their rules: they didn’t want to talk about that.
“So instead, I’d like to focus on the quieter parts of your lives over the last ten years, and what you see in store for your future. And it only seems fair to start with the Animorph who traveled furthest to be here. War Prince Aximili-Esgarouth-Isthill?”
<Aye?>
“This is your first return to Earth in over nine years. How does it feel to be back?”
<Am pure done in if Ah’m honest. Eighty-two lightyears on a Dome Ship an anyone’d be fed up wae it Ah suppose.>
I froze. I’d been prepared to hear Ax’s “voice” coming from the TSM speakers, but my ears weren’t properly parsing the sound.
“I’m sorry, was there maybe some Gallard mixed in with that?”
<Nah.>
Marco snickered.
<Oh, Ah was afraid this might happen. Andalite thought-speak disnae have literal phonetics, so the translator does its best by mapping mah inflection ontae the closest available dialect. How dae you hear me, lass?>
“What is that, Cockney?” Jake wondered.
Ax turned his all four eyes to face him.
<Really?> he said, flatly. He turned his face back to me, but his stalk eyes lingered on Jake awhile. <Ah apologize miss. Must be a bit knackered after Z-Space. Ah feel like a right eejit now and aw.>
Marco nudged Tobi. “You and Ax watch a lot of Highlander when you were hanging out in his scoop?”
“No”, she answered, “but you know how Andalites love their freeeeedom!”
They shared a quick giggle. It wouldn’t be much of an issue to get Marco talking, and Tobi seemed to be warming up a bit. Ax, not so much yet. So, I tried pivoting.
“So, elephant in the room…” and I paused. “Oh, I’m so sorry, that was a faux pas.” That was actually strategic. I figured I’d be forgiven an unfortunate turn of phrase this early, and I could gauge what happened to the room when Rachel was brought up.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tobi said.
“What I was trying to say was, are you comfortable sharing your experience with, I guess I’d call it ‘transitioning?’”
Tobi was expressionless. The few clips we had of her prior human form had shown this same behavior, so it wasn’t that surprising. What was kind of surprising was, at this point, both Tobi and Ax had shown more expression than Jake had.
“C’mon, you got this,” whispered Marco.
“I agonized for months over it. Since the day we got back, actually. But as impossible a choice as it seemed, it was also somehow an easy one. So, yeah, I’m a vegan now.”
“Wait...”
“Yeah, I know, it’s a stereotype, girl can’t go five minutes without reminding everyone she’s vegan, but, you know, it’s who I am now. And the Hork-Bajir have been amazing support. It’s really helped ease the transition.”
“The transition… to veganism?”
“Yeah. The Hork-Bajir, they really have their feet on the ground. You know, I was nervous but it actually feels really good to talk about this. Thank you.”
“Um… don’t mention it. Marco...”
“Polo.” The ever-present smirk remained.
“Are you making fun of me?” Jake said, still looking forward.
“Huh?” Marco seemed genuinely confused.
“You know, the Amazon.”
“Oh, you mean my ‘friend’ named ‘Polo’ from that B.S. jungle side quest?”
“That happened!”
“Dude, it’s been 13 years. Just admit it! You showed up late, chickened out, then quizzed Ax until he mentioned some phenomenon with a cool name. And then you tried to convince us all that’s what happened. You fought so valiantly, saved Rachel from ants, and Ax got molested by a monkey, but we don’t remember because time travel.”
“We do not need to do this now.”
Tobi stepped in. “We time traveled three other times and I remember all those.”
“Yeah!” Marco agreed. “Wait, three times? Hang on, there was dinosaurs, Shakespeare-pirates-World War II, and… what was the other one?”
“Leera.”
“That wasn’t time travel!” Jake said, defiantly.
<Aye it was. A wee bit.>
“See Leslie, don’t listen to Jake here, he can’t keep it all straight.”
“I’m the only one of us who keeps it ‘straight’, Marco. Andalites excluded, no offense, Ax...”
<Nae bother.>
“…and you forgot crossing the Delaware!” Jake continued. “You know, where I got shot. In the fucking head!”
Tobi added “And Princeton! Delaware-Pirates-Princeton-World War II.”
<The Battle of Trafalgar didnae have ‘pirates’...>
“See! That proves my point!” said Marco. “You remember the Visser Four thing, right up to the moment you died! So your whole thing that ‘we don’t remember the jungle because we died’ doesn’t make sense!”
“No! You didn’t die, you were never there. I died, and that’s why I remember it!”
Everyone, including Jake took in the inerrant absurdity of that statement.
“Well, you’re half right,” said Marco.
“You know...” said Tobi, “Cassie said there was a fourth one.”
Jake let out a sigh. “She says a lot of things, man. I mean… not that you’re a… not anymo—”
Marco jumped in, trying to deflect from Jake’s floundering. “Right! The one where we couldn’t morph and old-Tobi was a Controller and I was dating… um, anyway, then we died and came back to life.”
“Ugh… that was right after I told her about my stupid fever dream where we were older and… you were like some tycoon and she had to blow up the moon or something. Tobias was Ax. Tobi! Tobi was Ax! I think she was just trying to one-up me. Oh… shit.” Jake looked directly at me, no longer aloof, but alarmed. “That was off the record, OK Leslie? Don’t print that. Please? Do not print that!”
That seemed like as good a time as any for a Marco rebound.
“Marco, since your return, you’ve been able to resume your entertainment career without missing a beat. How do you do it?”
“Classic American work ethic. And Red Bull.”
“That stuff gives you wings,” said Tobi.
I swear Ax’s stalk eyes swiveled a bit towards her at that one. Man, trying to size up my subjects and I was commiserating with the Andalite. But I was determined not to get sidetracked again so soon. It was still early; keep it light, keep him talking...
“You’ve had your share of small-screen successes. A few flops, too.”
“Eh, win some, lose some. I get paid regardless.”
“Marco will say yes to anything. Or anyone,” added Jake.
“You didn’t mind when you were the one asking!”
“Have there been any projects you turned down, Marco?” I asked.
“Actually, about six months before we left, there was the one about us.”
Tobi face-palmed. “Oh, my God...”
<That script nearly caused a diplomatic incident.>
Marco laughed. “They had us, like, hanging out at an Internet cafe in Canada. And we were smuggling these disks or something. Old-Tobi was like, a biker, and Ax built a homemade spaceship with a thatched roof.”
<Ah told you never to bring up thatches!>
“Sorry, man. Anyway, I’ve seen projects like those before. What happens is someone writes an original script, in this case about teenage hackers, or something along those lines. But the studio wants a recognizable tie-in, and… what was hot that year? We were! So they hire script doctors to shove in the gimmick—whether it fits or not. Could’ve been a cool show on its own, but, you know... it’s not Animorphs.”
“That whole thing really ruffled me,” said Tobi.
Jake grumbled. “You told me you were ready to say yes after they re-wrote it so you destroyed the Yeerk hot tub, but I still got infested.”
“I said I was thinking about it! They also had me saying things like ‘Muchas gracias’ and ‘Aye caramba’ like freaking Bart Simpson! I never said yes. That was literally the question, have I ever turned a gig down? I turned it down, Jake!”
“Now, since your ‘comeback’, all your work has been in so-called ‘reality TV.’ Most recently you’ve appeared as a judge on America’s Got Talent. Do you see yourself staying there?”
“I figured the press tour after our return to Earth would make it hard to commit to a scripted show for awhile. And thank you, Leslie, this interview is the only thing that’s stopping me from being completely wrong on that front. But seriously, every TV actor has to spend a year as the clearly-unqualified middle judge on an elimination-based reality show. It’s what stars get instead of jury duty.”
“What do you mean ‘a year’?” asked Tobi. “You did reality TV last season, too.”
“Right, you were on Dancing With the Stars,” I said.
<Ah ordered mah crew to vote for ye. Oh—Ah should shut ma hole.>
“That was different! That wasn’t for the work. I mean… you saw her, right?
“I saw you step on her feet.”
<Oh that’s why he lost? We thought that was part of it.>
“I was supposed to morph gorilla for the finale, and lift her over my head and twirl around. Wardrobe was supposed to give me a breakaway tux, but they messed up. So instead I’m in, like, pure silk. Or Kevlar. And of course my neck and head started morphing first, and I just ended up choking myself.”
“She was quick about it, though. Got a great applause when she lifted you up,” said Tobi.
“I thought it was kind of patronizing,” said Marco, a little dejected. “Anyway, I’ve got some stuff lined up. I’m doing a pilot for a police procedural with a drug-sniffing dog. I can be the dog in the first half and the D.A. in the second half.”
“Are they gonna call it Paw & Order?” Tobi asked.
Marco paused, and even looked a little embarrassed. “Actually, uh… it’s called K-9-to-Five, but… yours is way better. I’m also in talks to host X-Factor next season. I probably shouldn’t say this but, it’s down to me and… that guy who looks just like me.”
“Joseph Gordon Levitt?” asked Jake.
<That lad was mah favourite on 3rd Rock!>
“I always preferred Sally,” said Tobi.
“No, guys! The one from E.T.”
“Drew Barrymore?” asked Tobi.
“Never mind”, Marco mumbled.
“You certainly caused the biggest spectacle on the last season of Dancing. But your absence during a fracas on the current season of AGT was, shall we say, ‘noticed’?”
Marco rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of the rumors that I was the Crufts dog. Look, I had to miss a taping, and people read way too much into the ‘sick as a dog’ statement. That note came from my manager! I just told her to notify the producers, I didn’t proofread the thing!”
“So it was not you who urinated first on the flaming rings, and then on Simon Cowell?
“C’mon, Leslie, does an Animorph pee on live TV?”
<Ah thought the expression was ‘Does a bear—’> Tobi tapped Ax on the shoulder and gave him the “cut it” motion.
Marco would surely have marinated in his ego all day. Jake, however, might take a little prodding. “On the subject of controversy: Jake...”
“Here we go with this shit…” he muttered.
“...I was wondering if you’d like to contextualize a few statements you’ve made since your return?”
“Such as?”
“Easy, man,” reassured Marco.
“Last year in Dallas, to a group of paramilitary demonstrators, you were filmed saying, quote, ‘I remember being a Nazi, and it even seemed like it made sense, until I was able to remember what was really important,’ end quote. What did you mean by that?”
“That was a de-escalation tactic! Sound initially sympathetic, then throw them off-guard with a non-sequitur, use the pause to try put distance between you and them.”
“That sounds almost word for word what you’ve said in other accounts of the event. But what do you mean by ‘You remember’?”
Now, something changed. Withdrawn as he was on a personal level, up until now Jake had strictly maintained his room-filling, quasi-military posture. As he recounted, he seemed to shrink a little. He looked through me, as if watching a movie behind my head.
“Come on, I’ve talked about this. The… Delaware-World War II-battleship… let’s not start that again. That thing. I was in a parallel reality, and when I came back… that is, when our memories were restored to our ‘real’… I don’t like that word, it was all real… ‘original’ selves? Like a new morph, you morph and get all the animal’s instincts. Sometimes, for strong enough or alien enough animal minds, it doesn’t all fade for awhile, even after you demorph. Point is, I was in a reality where we were all, for lack of a better word, Nazis. Fascists. I think it was only for like, 10 minutes, but it’s impossible to say, like remembering the start of a dream. I had a lifetime of memories with a completely different system of right and wrong. Memories I didn’t ask for and didn’t want. But in those few minutes, it did ‘make sense’.”
“Yeah… that place was weird,” said Tobi, quietly.
“I remember we were all obsessed with sussing out ‘subversives’”, said Marco. “I was one. Jake couldn’t see it because he was hung up on Cassie, even there. But in that reality, I was totally a closet sub.”
That got a side-glance from Tobi.
Jake continued. “And then the Ellimist— I mean, the timestream—”
“Just a second,” I interrupted. “That word, ‘Ellimist’? That word has popped up in some other accounts of the war. What does it mean?”
A long pause.
“Jake?”
<Lingo he picked up from me, ma’am. Andalite legend. Like the human Fates. Or Karma… sort of. We sometimes curse wae it, ‘Fuckin’ Ellimist’, that sort of thing. That’s all.>
Jake leered at me. “You got anymore?”
“I do. About six months ago, in a phone interview, shortly before it was cut short: ‘Morality is just survivorship bias’. Can you explain your meaning, there?”
“Yeah, what it sounds like. Only the people who survive get to say, afterwards, what was right and what was wrong. There probably are better or more moral or cleaner ways to navigate any conflict, and the people who wait trying to figure it out are dead. And they get their name on a wall and they’re mourned by their loved ones. Meanwhile, someone makes a quick, effective choice, manages to pull it off and is lucky enough to get away… the ones who kill ten thousand and save a million. Those million get to spend the rest of their long, happy lives debating if their survival was bought too inhumanely. Plenty of people would have traded anything for such inhumane salvation, but we never hear from them, because they’re dead. That’s what it means, Leslie.”
“I think we should move on,” said Marco.
I decided to risk it. “I have just one more.”
“I said—” Marco began.
Jake cut him off, quietly. “She heard you, Marco. Let her ask the question, I don’t have to answer.”
“Six weeks ago at Stanford University, at the symposium on the ethics of distributing the morphing technology—”
“Oh, Jesus Christ…”
“—regarding proposed use of the technology to heal critically-ill patients, you seemed to endorse strict background checks to access one of the four available Escafil devices, even if slowing the process meant some patients died. When the subject of terminally-ill children was broached, you responded, quote: ‘They can stand in line with everybody else.’ End quote.”
Marco and Tobi winced. Ax almost seemed to nod in agreement.
Jake shifted in his chair. “Does anyone have that iPhone app that makes the cricket chirp noise?”
“I do,” Marco offered.
“Leslie, you know that was a figure of speech, right? A bad one. I should have said ‘get in line’, I obviously should have… or just said ‘wait’... Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. Quote that, please, quote it. Do that thing in the magazine where it’s in bold in its own box in the middle of the page. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything,’ and then the little dash-Jake-Berenson underneath it.”
He paused, then continued, even more quietly. “Fucking Stanford. I shouldn’t have gone. I only went because… the Hork-Bajir delegation. They were talking about expanding into Yosemite and… some of the government liaisons were supposed to be there and I thought maybe… forget it.”
“I didn’t know that, man,” said Marco, empathetically.
“I said forget it.”
“Does anyone else hear that?” asked Tobi.
<Aye Ah do.>
I didn’t hear anything.
“Ax, check with your people. And mine.” Jake’s posture was back. His eyes weren’t watching the invisible movie anymore.
The three human Animorphs kept their eyes glued to Ax. After several seconds:
<A crowd has gathered outside the building.>
“They know we’re here,” Jake said, matter-of-factly.
Marco was more colorful in his assessment. “Gee, I wonder how they ever could have guessed? I dunno, maybe a Conspicuous Capital Ship landing in the bay in broad daylight?”
<Yer instructions were a wee bit vague, pal.>
“Is the crowd friendly, Ax?” Jake asked. Another pause.
<Mix of both, says Miss Gerard.>
“Figures. Are we good to continue?”
<Believe so. They’re not too organised. And several of yer polis have arrived.>
“Yeah, that’s never made things worse,” Tobi said sardonically.
“Let’s just pick up the pace. Next question.” And with that, they were all back as they’d been before.
“The world has changed because of your actions, and you were here to witness the beginning of that change. Then, you were off-world for about about two years from your perspective, while over five years passed here on Earth. What differences strike you the most since your return?”
I was surprised when Jake spoke first.
“This recession, or mini-depression or whatever you call this that we’re in. When the Pool Ship came down, they took out the mall, the elementary school, downtown, half the houses. Maybe it’s insensitive to say but I feel like a small version of that, like an echo, is happening everywhere now. The mall by my housing unit closed down. Who ever heard of a mall closing? Like a third of the houses are empty. Some of the big skyscrapers downtown are vacant. Where did they all go? I feel like I see more people on the street than I used to, but not that many. It makes me really uncomfortable, getting the feeling that people have vanished.”
“I saw that in Loren’s neighborhood,” Tobi added. “She was in a better place than before, but still not great. She didn’t get the same kind of assistance that some of the other parents got.”
“I’m sorry, OK?” Jake snapped. “You know I asked, that can’t be on me.”
“She didn’t say it was, man,” Marco said.
“He— I mean she didn’t have to say it, Marco, just listen.” Jake turned back to Tobi. “It’s because of the medical requirements, you know? Anyone who wanted into the aid program needed to submit to full biometrics, including DNA analysis, no exceptions. Now what could possibly set Loren apart from my parents, or Marco’s, or Cassie’s, that might make her hesitant to get her blood drawn?”
“Leave her out of this, Jake,” Tobi warned.
“You brought her up!”
“I just mentioned her neighborhood, OK? It’s not like I have five houses, or a military escort to take me to the mall. The places I go are kinda limited, you know?”
“Well, surely you’re seeing more typically human places now?” I interjected.
Tobi considered a moment. “I’m still in the woods. Not too far from the Hork-Bajir. I have a little place there. There’s a pond. Like my own little Walden. Hey, Waldenbooks! That’s something I miss. They’re gone now.”
“Technically they’re still around,” said Marco. “They just got re-absorbed by Borders.” He shrugged. “I can’t help it, I read the Journal. Or have Wetherbee explain the gist of it.”
“I don’t believe in borders,” Tobi deadpanned.
“About the housing thing,” started Marco. “When I got back, the first thing I did was call my mom. The number didn’t work. I tried my dad next. He was salty about me asking about her. It turns out, the house that ‘the program’ put her in got foreclosed on. Her landlord was, like, juggling a bunch of houses and the ARM’s all kicked in at once. And he just... walked! So the bank kicked her out. I was beyond pissed. I assumed the government owned the houses they were putting these people in. Shit, if I’d known, I’d have bought it for her. I started trying to figure out how fast I could buy a small house for her.
“Then I realized I didn’t recognize the names on any of my statements anymore. Most of my money was with Merrill Lynch, right? Even without any TV income for a few years, everything was set up in stable growth funds. I've got to be the last person on Earth to learn Merrill Lynch failed, like, overnight, so now all my stuff was with B of A. And it was all down, like, thirty percent. Insane! So, anyway, my dad didn’t even have her phone number, can you believe it?”
“How did you find her?”
“An old friend.”
“You don’t mean the uh… ‘King of Comedy’?” asked Tobi.
“His dad actually. But I really don’t want to go there.”
“I can’t believe they talked to you,” said Jake.
“They never had an issue with me.”
“I could’ve helped you.”
“Not that fast. So, I found her, and she’s fine. Actually better than fine. She, uh… she actually reconnected with an old boyfriend. Like, way old. Their families knew each other back in Guatemala. I guess she dated him after she and my grandmother first came here. But when it didn’t work out, she moved to California and met my dad. And… yeah, from there everyone knows more or less what happened.”
“Was it hard for you when your parents split up?”
“When someone in your life comes back from the dead, nothing really surprises you after that.”
“Sounds nice,” Tobi said, etherially.
“I didn’t understand this when I was in the thick of it, but my dad had moved on. And my mom... I mean, think about it. She’d seen other planets. She had a front row seat to so many horrible things. Not to mention random memories from at least five other hosts and that… slug she crushed. You don’t just ‘go back’ to your old life after that. When the war ended, so did they. It’s fine.”
“Where is your mother now?”
“Safe. Next question.”
“Ax? Have there been any notable changes on your homeworld?”
<Much of what Ah’ve seen isnae appropriate to share with an Earth audience. Ah will say, though, the Kafits have gotten viscous. Turns out Andalites morphing human to have a piece at the starport is more enticing prey than any Djibala. Lost a whole chip piece that way once. Ah went out for a bite and next thing, everything is a mess of feathers and flying chips. Then out of instinct Ah tried to knife that wanker only to remember too late Ah didnae have mah tail. Tell ye, War Prince or not, ye fall on your arse at the port walk and suddenly you’re getting shite from Arisths and Officers and everyone in between.>
“Wow, that... sounds frustrating.”
Tobi and Marco were laughing heartily; Jake was stone faced.
<Aye it was. On a less trivial note, though, Ah'm afeard the electorate disnae know what to do in the absence of war. Idle hands and what not, Ah’ve never seen more protests, or more young ones adrift.>
“Do you have any ideas about what can be done the engage the Andalite youth?”
<Think Ah’ve said a bit too much already. Something’s lost, though. Not sure what it is. Maybe it’s me.>
“Tobi, I’m not sure if you follow Internet culture, but are you aware that your likeness—your hawk likeness, that is—has come to be used as a sort of stand-in for overcoming loss?”
“I avoid most of that. Cassie told me Rachel and I were the ‘forgotten Animorphs.’ But if the idea of me somehow helps people get through their own stuff, that’s fine.”
“It’s got to be hard to hear someone who was so important to you be described as ‘forgotten.’ What has that been like?”
“You know, even though she was my cousin, I always felt like Rachel and I shared a certain—”
“Jake!” Marco shouted. “Dear God, read the room, man!”
Angry (and confused, in Ax’s case) glances were exchanged for what felt like an impossibly long time.
<Have—have we finished?>
Jake stood and developed a keen interest in the crafts table.
“I really hated him at first,” Tobi said quietly, with a slight nod towards Jake. “He gave the order. After... it was over, when I was alone, in the woods, I used to question him, in my head. A lot of my internal monologue was with an imaginary version of Jake. I don't know how normal that is. But who cares, right? Sometimes I'd question him. Usually I’d just scream at him. After awhile I started bouncing between Jake and Rachel, ‘Why? Why?’ Then I started just ‘talking’ to Rachel. Always angry at her. Why couldn’t I have gone with her? I didn’t do anything that important on the Pool Ship. I came up with these elaborate ideas, about how I would’ve helped her. Sneak on as an insect. Slash a jugular in a hallway. Acquire them before they bled out. Take their Dracon beam and blend in on the bridge. Or lurk somewhere in rhino morph and just wait. Always very violent. But those were all things Rachel could have done. Why did she play it the way she did, so dangerous?
“I tried to force myself to just think about our happier times. But I realized I couldn’t remember our last private talk together. Still can’t. We never talked that much when preparing for a fight. But this time… she knew it was ‘goodbye’ and she didn’t say anything to me. That whole day. Did we even share a glance, anything? She left me. Knew it, and she said nothing. That’s not how you treat a partner.
“And then… then I admitted we weren’t partners. I loved her. She loved me... or some idea of me... but we were never equals. She ‘took care’ of me. I never wanted that. She convinced me I did, or at least that I needed it. She didn’t see me as a hawk. Our… I hate the word now, but our ‘dates,’ I always had to morph my birth-body first. Yeah, we flew together sometimes, but it was different. That didn’t seem to count somehow.”
“That sounds like a very difficult personal journey. When was it that you came to understand all this about yourself?”
“This was all the first year or so afterwards. I was visiting Loren a lot, and did a few things like this, interviews and stuff. I was using my birth-body a lot, had to. I had those kinds of thoughts more often as human. The hawk is solitary, and the business of food is a great diversion. So when I decided to drop out, it didn’t feel like I was running or anything. It felt like finally giving myself permission to go home. I built a territory in a meadow that was a little sparse, a bit too dry. A challenge. I figured, how is that different from people who live in, like, the Alaskan wilderness today?”
“That makes sense. It was certainly your prerogative,” I reassured. “So was that your life until you departed Earth? Just you and the woods?”
“Not exactly. It was like, the start of the third year, there was this other problem. I was jittery, like looking for a predator that wasn’t there. I thought it was the hawk at first. It wasn’t. One time I needed to use a human morph, I forget why exactly, but then I recognized it. It was anxiety! Those human sensations, like the tightness in the stomach, the cold sweat—those sensations don’t always translate across species. But the thoughts themselves do.
“There was a time, not too long before that stuff started, when I needed to morph human, and realized I… just didn’t want to use my birth-body. Morphs don’t age, you know? That body is thirteen years old. I don’t know what I am now, but I am not a thirteen year old boy. Then I remembered—and wished I didn’t—I had another human morph.”
“Taylor?” I asked, cautiously.
She nodded. “I had one more human morph also. A Navy officer, twenty-something guy. I had a hard time morphing him again because I couldn’t really remember what he looked like. But I remembered… her. And once I re-discovered that ‘option’ it kind of… you could say ‘metastasized’. That’s when the anxiety started. Got worse as the hawk started to age. Every single day, the hunt got harder, and I’d think ‘Is this the day we walk away?’ Obviously there was more anxiety with those thoughts—mortality. Fear is one of those feelings that does translate across species. But every time I thought about leaving the hawk behind, the next thought would inevitably be ‘Which body are we gonna walk away with?’”
“This body,” I made a broad gesture toward Tobi “isn’t just Taylor?”
“Hell no!” she snapped. “No, god, I hated having that in me. And there’s no way to get rid of a morph. Well, no simple way. There’s a loophole. I just didn’t know if I could do it.”
<The Frolis Manoeuvre> Ax said.
“Yeah. I figured, Marco kind of did it, right?”
“Not quite,” said Marco.
<If you’re on about the random hybrids, that isnae the same. Those are temporary.>
“Thank God,” said Marco. “Where would I be today if I’d lost Big Jim?”
Tobi continued. “We’d all seen Ax do it, after we met him. I didn’t realize it destroys the original morph when you do that.”
“He had to acquire me again...” Jake said over his shoulder.
“We kind of had other things on our mind at the time,” Marco said. “Namely, you being a Controller.”
“So then Jake showed up in my meadow to recruit me for the Kelbrid thing. I didn’t tell him then, but I had a really selfish reason to go: I figured it would let me kick the can on the ‘hawk’ decision another few months. Or years, as it turned out. Pure oxygen, low gravity, and Andalite drugs all let me stretch the hawk as far as it could go. And the ship forced me to use human form more. After so long retreating from my human side, on the ship, I needed to take a break from the hawk’s claustrophobia and annoyance that it couldn’t hunt. Menderash gave me some good pointers on the Frolis Maneuver process. I didn’t want to regress to a pubescent boy. That body was borderline malnourished. And a little nearsighted, as it turns out, go figure. And I wanted to get rid of her permanently. So, you know, ‘Kill two birds.’”
“May I ask who else you… I don’t want to say ‘mixed’, that doesn’t seem right.”
“I did the Frolis Maneuver twice. First, I practiced with a combination of Marco and the Navy officer. It felt good to ‘delete’ that morph, too. He didn’t exactly consent to me acquiring him. I mean, it was in the thick of battle, but still, it sort of felt like righting a wrong. For the real thing, I used... Taylor, obviously. Jeanne Gerard donated. I made Marco swear never to comment on that.”
“I’m doing OK so far, aren’t I?”
“I mixed my birth-body in there. And two more that… that are private. One male, one female.”
“Did you guide the recombination in any specific way?”
“If you’re asking about the sex… I flipped a coin. Ax, can I say this? Andalite secrecy and all?”
<Bit late, don’t you think?... Hell, it’ll be alright. Blame me, just another mark on ‘Aximili’s Kindness.’>
“That’s what I’m gonna bill the catering to,” Marco quipped.
Tobi continued. “I didn’t have a good handle on guiding the process. It’s easier to just let it be random. When you do that, everything is just proportionate to the number of donors. So it wasn’t really a coin flip, it was sixty-forty that I'd end up female. I mean… I could have stacked the deck with different donors if I wanted to. That’s what Menderash did. But I was indecisive. Just like I always am when I’m human, I’ll just own it now. With everything else I was gonna have to get used to, that part seemed trivial, really. Actually, the biggest thing for me to get used to early on was being so much taller. I’m happy I got Jeanne’s 20/10 vision. Still feel blind but it’s something.”
“Was your mother one of the donors?” I asked.
“That’s… weird. No, she’s not.”
“Well, I think it worked out great,” said Marco. “And it’s not weird being seen with you at all! No awkward questions.”
“That’s what it’s really all about, Marco, helping you keep your image.”
<What image is that?>
Jake snorted as he wandered back to his seat, having built about six tacos and eating maybe half of one.
“Welcome back, Jake,” said Tobi.
Just as Jake moved to sit down, the door opened. Everyone (including Remmy and myself) snapped to attention. It was Santorelli. Gerard stood just behind him.
“Jake, it’s ramping up out there. Crowd’s doubled and still growing. Superfans, press, police, mixed with the ‘Arrest the War Criminals’ and ‘Aliens Go Home’ crowd.”
I could hear them now, too.
“This could turn real quick,” said Jake.
“The good news is I don’t think they know where we are exactly. Most of the crowd wants to stay in view of the Dome ship. Navy has some choppers circling it, with Andalite fighters shadowing them. Normal patrol, but it looks like a big show.”
Taryn wormed her way towards the door. “The hotel says they can move us to another building. They’re really nervous.”
“Well yeah, they didn’t sign up for this” I replied. “We’d lose Ax’s audio, though.”
“You could just let him morph,” said Marco.
“We’re going to finish this, here,” Jake said. “But… what if we appeared to leave?” Jake turned back to Santorelli. “If Ax’s people go along with it, and the four of you left, you think you could make it look like you’re trying to be covert, but still arrange to be seen?”
“We could do that.”
“They can count, Jake,” said Marco. “Eight in, four out?”
“Almost nobody saw you and me arrive, Marco,” said Tobi. “Jake got here hours ago, before anybody was looking. No one knows exactly who’s here.”
“Ax, can you order your people to leave? Or are they honor-bound to stay at your side or something?” Jake asked.
<They’ll do as requested.>
I didn’t know if Ax said something in private thoughtspeak, or if they were just following along, but I caught a quick glance of Ax’s escorts morphing human. It was the first time I’d ever witnessed morphing in person. It was as disgusting as promised.
“Santorelli, radio the valet to bring the town car around. Head back towards JBCC.”
“You know,” said Marco, ponderously, “if you really want to make sure they’re seen… a hawk emerging from behind the building first is way more compelling.”
“That’s smart,” said Tobi. “Also more dangerous...”
“I’ve got it,” said Gerard. She immediately fell out of view as she shrank behind Santorelli’s shoulder. I was grateful for him blocking the view.
“If this doesn’t work,” said Santorelli, oblivious to the mess of contorting bodies behind him, “you’ll be on your own.”
“I think we prefer it that way,” said Marco.
“Good luck”, said Tobi.
“Go,” Jake said.
The diversionary group turned and left, moving with purpose, leaving only Taryn behind in the anteroom. I suddenly felt terrified for her; just seconds ago she’d been flanked by four warriors, and now—
“Taryn!,” I called out, motioning her in. But before she could cross the threshold, Jake shut the door, coldly.
“Your rules, Leslie,” Jake said. “No one in, or out. Let’s keep it moving.”
That shook me. There it was, the signature coldness. Sure, it was a small thing. Taryn probably wasn’t in any real danger (right?). And absolutely, Jake was playing by the rules. My rules. And yet...
This glimpse at him in action, brief as it was, inspired me. No. Not inspired. Goaded. With his back against the wall, the real Jake had appeared. And one way or another, I got the feeling that this interview would be over soon. Carl might have been satisfied with printing Jake’s faux-tortured “she done left me” shoe-gazing and Internet-troll level defense of his past incendiary statements. But I wasn’t satisfied. Not yet.
I’d already mentally scratched getting anything substantive from Ax. Marco had been as banal as he was verbose. Maybe there was something touching in there about his mother, but it was inseparably mixed with his nouveau riche griping. Tobi had really opened up, but would anybody care? She was practically anonymous... ‘forgotten Animorph’ indeed.
But I still had maybe ten more minutes with Jake Berenson. The military-industrial complex’s answer to “Be like Mike.” The low-orbit executioner. The only minor ever to be subpoenaed by The Hague. He had more to say. I intended to make him say it.
“Jake, I’d like to re-visit your thoughts on wartime ethics.”
“Fine, we can beat a dead horse.”
“The decision to go on the Kelbrid journey…”
“We’re not here to talk about that,” said Jake.
<That’s subtly different to what we agreed to… Prince Jake.>
“I’m not asking about the mission, or your rescue. I’m interested in the Earth-side conversation, and your former teammate’s refusal to join.”
Play by the rules...
“There’s no such thing as a former Animorph,” Jake snapped back. “You’d have to ask her why she said no. I’m sure your ‘competitor’ will.”
“Noted.”
“Just ask the question.”
I heard a distant, collective gasp from the crowd outside, which quickly split into competing cheers and angry shouts. Gerard taking flight?
“Six years ago—three years, by your perception—you learned that Ax had been captured. Likely dead. You boarded a ship, which you named the Rachel.”
“I named it,” said Tobi.
“We all named it,” added Marco.
“You found yourself in command of a team of six. Three original Animorphs, including yourself. One Andalite—”
<Nothlit, ma’am. He was human by our standards.>
“You also brought with you the two individuals who accompanied you here today. A beautiful woman with an unusual aptitude for combat. Surely the similarity was apparent.”
“She also didn’t like me much,” said Marco.
“And then, there’s Master Sergeant Santorelli.”
“Santorelli was going regardless,” said Jake. “I asked Cassie, she said no. If she’d said yes, there would have been seven of us on that ship.” That was good. Jake had picked up on the implication that Santorelli had replaced Cassie, without me even having to say it. Even a denial gave some credibility to the idea.
“Still, what do you say to the popular perception that, at your first chance at a post-war command, you built a simulacrum of the Animorphs, but replaced your ethicist, the lone voice of dissent, with a ‘yes man’? With the result of your first combat order being, and I don’t say this lightly, attempted suicide?”
“How is that even a question?” said Tobi, heatedly.
Marco was a little more direct. “You bitch. Who have you been talking to? You have Menderash on background or something?”
Tobi and Marco might have been seething, but Jake seemed almost serene. “So, your angle is that I’m a washed up high school quarterback who tried to relive the glory days? And these people here with me, and the ones taking their chances out there... what? Enable me?”
“Don’t answer, Jake,” Marco warned.
“It’s a reasonable analogy,” I pressed. “Give me an alternative.”
“OK. You want to be Freudian about it? Sure, I built a bastardized Animorphs spin-off. And when I scuttled the ship, I guess I symbolically killed Rachel again. And then what happened?”
“Are you referring to being ‘bailed out’, to use a timely term, by a certain conscientious objector, whom you see very much as not-a-former Animorph?”
Jake grinned ever-so-slightly. “You want to know how she did it?”
<Jake...> Even Ax seemed nervous now.
“Rumor says it involved something like a transporter. A teleportation device. But not even the Andalites have anything like that.”
<We have many things beyond your ken, miss.>
The crowd was a constant roar now. Didn’t sound like the diversion had worked. I should have known enough to be scared, but all I could do maintain eye contact with Jake. Some instinct told me if I broke it, he’d stop talking.
“Leslie, I haven’t done a great job keeping track of exactly which parts of our ‘legend’ have made it public, or how accurate they are. I mostly don’t care. But you should know this: Cassie was most responsible for Ax’s rescue at sea. She saved his ass again, when the rest of us were delirious with an interstellar fever. And the WesCal Gas incident? Look it up if you have to. She wouldn’t want me telling you this—she tried to boycott that mission, only to ‘bail us out,’ as you say, with a brutality that even made Rachel blush.” Jake paused and took a deep breath. “And she blamed me for it.” He glanced at Tobi. “I think coming to hate me is a rite of passage for being an Animorph.”
I leaned forward in my seat. Jake mirrored.
“That’s the person I left behind, safe on Earth. After letting her know exactly what kind of campaign we were on. Now let’s say, purely for fun, this ‘transporter’ is real. Suppose I knew about it. Suppose she knew about it. How does Kelbrid look now, if I tell you I factored all of that in before any of us set foot on that ship?”
“Did you?”
Carl was gripping the desk. Usually I’d relish seeing him act like a person with a soul. But my heart was pounding, knowing what was coming next. I didn’t want to re-live it. The crowd noises were audible on the recording now.
<Breach! Breach! They’re inside, we need tae go.>
All four of them had jumped to their feet in sync.
“Lock the door!”
…Jake had screamed at Remmy, half a second after Marco had yanked Taryn into the room with us.
“Turn it off,” I whispered to Carl.
It hadn’t taken too long to clear the building. I never heard any gunfire, or Shredder beams, or tigers roaring or rhinoceroses stampeding. I’m not sure what I’d expected. By the time we were escorted out, the place was a ghost town. The Animorphs were gone, too.
“No one saw them leave the building,” I explained to Carl. “Obviously they morphed.”
“What about Tobi?” Carl asked. “She just walk out of there?”
“She must have. Nobody knows what she looks like, she could have been any hotel guest.”
Carl was engrossed in something on the laptop screen. Not the way he watched TV—there was real thought this time. “Remmy recorded the whole time?”
“Yes. He’s a fanatic about that.”
Carl gestured to the corner of the media player. It showed the entire amount of time we were in the room: one hour, forty-one minutes.
“Not even two hours...” he said.
“That’s a coincidence!,” I protested. “She’s a nothlit, Carl! And besides, they couldn’t have known exactly how long they’d be in that room! Marco said they were prepared for five, six hours!”
“She never said she was a nothlit. And you didn't ask.” Carl grinned. His wheels were turning. I didn’t like it. “They know lots of people,” Carl said. “Marco alone, god, thousands of them. People who feel they owe the Animorphs their lives.”
“Or want them dead,” I said. “I don’t know which side has more, but I know which side is louder.”
Carl was staring at his phone now. “You know how many witnesses swear they saw them talk to people who just disappeared? And I don’t mean disappear in the mafia sense, I mean into thin air. And then the Andalites, who knows how deep those ties go...”
“Stop, Carl. Stop! This is all spin, it’s bullshit, and it’s dangerous. You don’t really believe it, it just sounds good because that’s how movies work.”
“Look at this,” he said, showing me his phone. I shuddered. I recognized the Wequassett parking lot, but this was the first I’d seen of the people who came after them. After us. A group of ten or so “Anti-Morphs” idiots… being buzzed by a red-tailed hawk.
“That’s gotta be Gerard! You know that!”
Carl was oblivious to me. He was looking back at the TV. “God dammit!” he shouted.
Cassie. MSNBC was showing a graphic of Cassie, in an apparent phone-interview. Carl unmuted it.
“—all comes as a shock to me. I haven’t been able to get in touch with them either. I hope they’re OK.”
The chyron instantly updated with her quote:
Cassie: ‘I hope they’re OK.’
The coverage cut back to the Dome in the bay. It had to be earlier; the sun was still up. Grainy, zoomed-in footage showed birds, dozens of them, landing on the rim at the base of the Dome. Mostly seagulls or small raptors... but a couple were clearly Kafits. They seemed to be entering the airlock, one at a time. It was very orderly. Had they formed a queue?
The chyron switched back to “An Alien Exodus?” The ocean clip faded to a live feed: that same patch of ocean. Empty. It finally clicked with me.
“It left?”
“Yeah,” said Carl. “While you were in the air. The networks were all covering the hotel shit until the Dome lifted off, haven’t moved from it since.”
They cut to an interview with some middle-aged man, identified as a Cinnabon franchise manager.
“Biggest crowd I’ve ever seen. Like they were stocking up—“
“About a third of the known Andalites on Earth are missing,” Carl said, beaming. “Male, female, young, old. A few warriors… but most from the sciences division.”
“...trying to whisper, but they’re not too good at that when they’re in human form. ‘Specially the young ones. They were talking about some kind of space anomaly, Z-worm-horizon-something or other. Really excited. All’s I know is, they bought me out. Last one left out the door with three dozen.”
My mind raced. This had all been going on… while the press had been watching the resort. Which they’d only known to watch in the first place because of the ham-fisted Dome Ship landing. The Andalites knew better than that! They’d kept the Rachel under wraps, hadn’t they?
Back to the news desk:
“...Department of Defense indicates Jake Berenson’s whereabouts are unknown. Marco Fulton’s management states no-contact as well. Earlier today, Fulton advised his management that he will not be continuing this season of America’s Got Talent.”
“Man, I kind of wanted to see Paw & Order,” I muttered.
Carl didn’t seem to hear. I grabbed my laptop and left his office. Jenniet was still at her desk; the only one left in the main office.
“You OK?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I paused, and gently set my laptop down on her desk. “What do you think of them? The Animorphs.”
“My kid wants to be Marco for Halloween. He’s his favorite.” She grinned.
I smiled back. “My niece loves Ax. She has this blue bunny ear headband that she put green googly eyes on. She pretends to be him.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Carl’s office, then back. “Jenniet, who was the backup cover piece for the October issue?”
“Lindsay Lohan.”
“Oh, God...”
I felt bad for Remmy. It had been his finest hour. He deserved better.
I highlighted the file and pressed ‘Delete.’