Work Text:
<Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you, or do you just plan on pacing the whole night?> Tobias asked.
I pulled up short, my hooves digging into the dry earth. I hadn’t realized how late it had become—or how early, given that there were only a few Earth hours remaining until sunrise. I also had no idea just how close I had come to my shorm’s favorite tree.
<I am sorry,> I said, <I did not mean to wake you.>
He fluffed his feathers in a manner that I had come to learn meant something similar to a human shrug. I expected him to tell me to do my pacing elsewhere, so he could get some sleep, but instead he said <It’s okay, Ax-man. I couldn’t really get to sleep, either.>
I wanted to ask what was bothering him, but part of me didn’t want to hear the answer. He had been pulled away so soon, the first of us to snap back to our morphs here on Earth, and I knew my actions on Leera had hurt him. What if he still didn’t trust me? If he believed that I was likely to betray the humans again at the first opportunity?
I was still consumed by these worries when he spoke again. <How many people do you think were on board the Ascalin when it self-destructed?>
Oh.
I sucked in dry summer air through my nostrils, considering the answer before I responded. <The Ascalin was a cutting edge assault vessel—most ships of that type were still under construction when I was in the Academy. I believe it would have had a complement of approximately 300 warriors, and another 20 or so officers of various ranks.>
So many had died. I remembered their thought-speak cries in my mind as I flew away, desperate to save my own skin. I knew I would hear them in my dreams, and this was part of the reason that I did not want to sleep, no matter how exhausted I was from the day’s events.
We were both quiet for a while as Tobias digested what I had told him. When he finally spoke, his thought-speak was quiet. <They deserved better than that.>
<They deserved a captain who served the will of the People,> I said vehemently, not bothering to control my tone, <not some Yeerk-loving, traitorous—> I cursed in Andal, using a word I had never said before in front of my human friends.
<They died to save us,> Tobias said. <If anyone on that ship had been infested, or had a Leeran-controller get a little too close…>
<Yes,> I responded shortly. <They died for Earth. To keep you from being discovered by the Yeerks.>
<They died to save you, too.>
I didn’t respond. I knew he was right, but the enormity of that fact was overwhelming. I didn’t deserve that kind of salvation. I didn’t want it.
Apparently, I stayed silent long enough that he felt the need to check in on me. <Ax? It might help to talk, if you—>
<I shouldn’t be here.> I cut him off, blurting out the thought that had been running through my mind ever since I appeared back in Aldershot’s hospital room, alive and unharmed.
<Oookay.> He elongated the word, shifting his weight on the branch. <You mean here as in Earth? You want to be back with the Andalites.>
<No! No, I—> How could I explain it? It was one of those truths that defied language—I did not even know if it could be understood by anyone other than myself. <The mission to arm the quantum bomb,> I said instead, hoping that if I explained the situation, then maybe Tobias would see the impossible situation that I had found myself in.
<Something else happened, didn’t it? Something you didn’t tell us.>
I hadn’t told them much. Prince Jake had known most of it, of course, as the last person to snap back prior to myself. When we were safely back in Cassie’s barn, he’d asked about the mission. I told them we were successful, and that if all had gone according to plan, then the Leeran homeworld had been freed. He hadn’t asked any more questions.
<Everything I said was true,> I told Tobias.
<But that’s not what’s bothering you.>
<No,> I agreed, and paused to breathe deeply before continuing the story. <When I reached the device, the Yeerks had managed to breach the bright hole. I was surrounded, and I instructed the technicians to detonate the bomb immediately rather than risk the Yeerks deactivating it.>
<Ax…>
<You must understand,> I pleaded, <I had no way of knowing that the snapback effect would occur at that exact moment.>
<You thought you were going to die.>
<I should have died.>
<But you didn’t.>
I wished I could say this time around that I wanted to. That I wished I could take my place among the heroes, as I didn’t deserve a better fate than theirs. But the awful truth was that, when I found myself back on Earth in mosquito morph, the first feeling that spread through me was a deep, overwhelming relief.
<No,> I said. <Through some random act of physics, I survived.> I knew I sounded bitter. Perhaps Tobias would judge me for that and think that I ought to be grateful for being alive.
I was. I was still bitter.
<I’m glad you’re not dead, Ax,> he said, and I was surprised by the emotion in his voice.
I appreciated it, and I felt similarly about him. That terrible moment when we had thought him shot down in battle was not one I wished to repeat. But before I could express that to him, he continued: <I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through, not exactly. But when Elfangor—when your brother died to protect us all those months ago, I didn’t understand it either. He was an adult, a fighter, and we were just kids.>
I hadn’t understood it either, when they told me of Elfangor’s sacrifice. <What did you do?> I asked.
<I decided to fight. To make his sacrifice worth something.>
I held my tail rigid behind me, tense despite the fact that there was no danger here. <I cannot hope to perform any deeds that will equal their sacrifice.>
<No,> he said. <But you can fight for what they believed in.>
<The liberation of your planet?> I asked doubtfully. While it was a worthy goal, I doubted that most of the warriors on board the Ascalin were aware of Earth’s plight.
<Freedom,> he said, <for all species threatened by the Yeerks.>
I felt my tail relax. The weight of the day’s event still stretched over me, heavy and solid, but at least now I could see a path through. My survival may not have been right, but I would not let it go to waste.
Not as long as I was able to fight.
However, I had one more question for Tobias. I had been considering it as I wandered back and forth in this Earth forest, with its wide trees so different from the ones on my world. <Is there a human custom for honoring the dead?> I asked.
<Yeah, several,> he said, tilting his head at me curiously, <it varies depending on your culture or religion, but I think everyone has one. Why do you ask?>
<If Earth’s people are to be mine, at least for the time being, then I would like to learn your customs. I am still an Andalite, of course, but perhaps I cannot be only Andalite.>
Tobias stared at me for quite a long while, but given his lack of facial expressions as a hawk, I do not believe he meant to convey any disapproval. <Like I said, there’s quite a few,> he said, <but one that they do a lot, especially at official events, is a moment of silence.>
<A Moment of Silence?> I repeated. It made sense: humans are a noisy species, by virtue of their mouths, so it seemed proper to me that they would commemorate their dead through the absence of noise.
<Yeah. Someone says ‘join me in a moment of silence,’ you stand to remember the people that have been lost, and for a short period of time—usually thirty seconds to a minute—nobody says anything. Some people bow their heads, I think.>
I considered this. Then: <I know we have already performed the ritual of death, but would you join me in a moment of silence for T.O. Harelin and the crew of the Ascalin ?>
Tobias responded almost immediately. <Yeah, Ax, I’d be glad to.>
I nodded my thanks in the human manner, then I bowed my head.
We stood in the forest together, Tobias and I, and we remembered.