Archive of Our Own ^beta

I’ve gathered my share of painful memories over the course of my life, and the first of them goes back to my early childhood. Our Educators had warned us that the next day’s physical exercises would be devoted to coordinating our hindquarters and tails. We were reaching the age when our blades began to grow, and it was important for us to learn proper control of our posture to avoid injuring ourselves.

I had prepared myself accordingly. It was a little vain of me, I admit, but I was determined to make a good impression in hopes of earning a positive mark.

In a way, I got what I wanted.

< Escafil? Did you file your blade? > asked the Educator in charge of my group.

All eyes turned toward me. My whole face started to burn.

< Yes, Educator. >

< But really, what a strange idea! It’s the girls who file their blades. Why did you do that? >

Behind the Educator, the boys started snickering. Even my best friend at the time gave me a look of pity.

< It’s because… I thought… I didn’t want to risk hurting anyone… > I stammered awkwardly.

This time, the laughter grew louder. I lowered my tail and hid it in the grass. I wished I could vanish with it, I was so ashamed.

< Hey, that’s enough, kids! > the Educator exclaimed. < Stop laughing and get back to your exercises. Solefin! Stand properly! >

After that, I thought they would leave me alone. I did everything I could to make myself invisible, but I hadn’t counted on the others’ misplaced curiosity. They cornered me after class, just as I was gathering my things to leave.

< Escafil! Show us your blade! >

< Yeah, come on! We want to see it! >

I didn’t want to, but they didn’t give me a choice. When, reluctant and still burning with shame, I finally raised it, the comments came flying again.

< Ooh, but it’s so tiny! >

< No wonder you filed it—it’s a girl’s blade! >

From that day on, the remarks about my body never stopped. I became Escafil-Esturfin-Gortass, the boy with the girl’s tail. Years went by, adolescence came. My muscles grew stronger, my frame thicker. But my tail kept that frail, almost delicate look people usually associated with female Andalites.

Often, others looked at me with pity. My male friends liked to challenge one another, to spar and test their strength. But as soon as I approached, they would look away and grow serious again. And if I tried to tease or provoke them myself, they would dodge my blows and never strike back. Never. As if they were afraid of hurting me. As if they thought I wasn’t worthy of them, or believed I could never measure up. It was humiliating.

The hardest part was my father’s remarks. < What kind of future do you think awaits you, Escafil? > he would ask over and over. And my mother would immediately scold him, because it was obvious he had hoped I would follow in his footsteps as a great tail-fighting champion.

< Sports aren’t everything! > she would say. < There are plenty of other fields he could excel in. You know, it’s all the rage to go into space these days. There’s so much to do up there. The Electorate keeps launching new exploration and research programs. What do you think, Escafil? Wouldn’t you like to become an explorer? Or maybe a diplomat? With all these new species we’re meeting, that would be perfect—a diplomat! >

But I didn’t have the soul of an adventurer, let alone that of a diplomat. And in any case, to become either one, you had to enter the military Academy. Which meant meeting certain physical requirements.

My friends and my parents didn’t understand a thing. They all felt awkward for me, trying to find solutions to a problem that, as far as I was concerned, didn’t even exist. Because, to be honest, I wasn’t ashamed of my tail.

In fact, it was the only part of my body I actually liked.

< You should try Resarias flower seeds, > my friend Kerdarin once told me as we walked home together, with Samaria—another friend from our class—by our side.

< Seeds of what? > I asked, confused.

< Resarias. They say that when ground into powder and taken as an infusion every morning and evening, it strengthens the hardness of the blade. Maybe it could help yours grow? >

< Oh, stop talking nonsense, Kerdarin! > Samaria snapped before I could respond. < Resarias does nothing—it’s a scam! Escafil doesn’t need that. >

< It’s not a scam at all! Look, I tried it myself, and it works just fine! >

Kerdarin brought his tail around in front of him so we could admire the blade. It gleamed with a pearly shimmer in the sunlight.

< I don’t see any difference, > Samaria said teasingly. < It’s just as blunt as always. >

Kerdarin jerked his tail back, clearly offended.

< You don’t know anything because you’re a girl. Here, let me show you! > he said, then sprang toward a nearby tree.

Samaria burst out laughing. Kerdarin was about to strike, but she caught him and stopped him mid-motion.

< You’re so touchy, it’s ridiculous! Come on, stop it! Leave that poor tree alone! >

Kerdarin pulled himself together, stepping away from the tree and trying to look dignified. Samaria, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing for a while.

< You males really have such big hang-ups, don’t you? > she said as we started walking again. < Honestly—Resarias powder! You’d have to be desperate to go that far. >

< You wouldn’t know what that’s like—you’re perfect, > I murmured under my breath.

I thought I’d kept my words to myself, but I saw Samaria’s eyes widen briefly.

I should have apologized. But for some reason, I was angry.

< You know what, Escafil? > she said suddenly. < You should come over to my place tonight. >

I didn’t ask her why. I didn’t want to refuse, either. I hadn’t known Samaria for very long, but I felt comfortable around her. More than with any other boy my age.

Her mother welcomed us warmly. Samaria showed me around her scoop and the flower groves she cultivated. We did our homework together, and afterward, she suggested we stretch our legs with a run across the family estate.

It felt good. Running beside Samaria wasn’t like running with Kerdarin. It was different. She didn’t try to outpace me or compare my movements to hers. With her, I could stumble a little on my hooves, keep my tail high, and just enjoy the feeling of the wind flowing between my stalk-eyes.

I had nothing to prove.

We stopped deep in the forest, near a river.

< I should probably head home, > I said uncertainly. < The sun’s going to dip below the horizon soon—it’ll be dark before long. >

< Wait, I have something to show you. >

She walked up to a shumat tree—a hollow one—and slid her hand inside. When she pulled it back out, she was holding an oval box. My curiosity was piqued.

< What’s that? >

She opened it. Inside were vials and small tools. I recognized them immediately, and an exclamation of admiration escaped me before I could stop it.

< My beauty kit! > Samaria said. < I hide it here because my mother doesn’t like knowing I get ready before school. She says I’m too young, that it’s not for serious girls—you know the type.… >

I knew I shouldn’t have been so interested, but I was fascinated. She had all the latest beauty products and the most advanced tools—ones to highlight her eyes, soften her hands, clean her hooves after meals, and even—

< Oh my God! You have a FluffMate robot, Cleaning & Styling model! Where did you get that?! >

Samaria laughed. < Lautarin gave it to me in exchange for the answers to our last atomic physics test. I think his father bought it for his mother, but she never used it… Lautarin said she wouldn’t miss it. >

< But… it only hit the market last week! >

< Yeah, well, you know how they are… His family can afford it. >

I picked up the robot to admire it more closely. It was just as beautiful as in the ads. The design was incredible. It had every possible feature—and, stars above, it even had a tattoo option, one that could draw patterns into the fur!

< Want to try it? >

My excitement vanished instantly. Try it?

< I’m not a girl. >

I put the robot back into the box as if it had suddenly burned my fingers.

< Oh, come on, Escafil! Don’t start brooding again! We don’t have class tomorrow. No one’s going to find out. > She stepped close enough for our flanks to almost touch. < You don’t have to pretend with me. You know that, don’t you? >

Her words twisted something inside me, something that made me feel sick. I didn’t understand why—not back then, anyway. But later, looking back over the years, it became obvious that Samaria, even at that moment, had seen something in me that I hadn’t yet seen myself. Something I refused to see.

Years went by. My bond with Kerdarin faded, but Samaria remained a close friend.

I applied to the University of Advanced Scientific Theory, the UAST. I was accepted.

It wasn’t exactly a dream choice, more of a default one. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t join the Academy. I didn’t want to work in industry—my parents would never have tolerated it—and politics didn’t interest me. Engineering did, but it was considered a male field.

Not the sciences.

I wasn’t a good student. I lacked motivation. How could anyone care about the quadri-distortion of torgon radiation in Z-Space when there was no practical use for such a theory? I’ve never been the kind of mind that enjoys abstraction. I need concrete applications to understand things.

Despite my professors’ disappointment, life at the university felt like a rebirth. I was surrounded mostly by girls, open-minded ones who didn’t care about my appearance.

One day, I came to class looking more put together. I had tried a new fur-thickening shampoo, especially for my chest, and for the first time since childhood, I had filed my tail blade.

No one noticed. Or if they did, no one said anything. Except Realine, a student who shared my Subatomic Harmony class.

< You should do that more often. It suits you. >

I was overjoyed. That evening, I called Samaria to tell her about my day.

< I’m happy for you, Escafil. Truly. You deserve to be yourself. >

Be yourself.

That phrase echoed in me for days, then for months. It became a question that haunted me, like a math problem whose logic I couldn’t grasp, a restless obsession that kept me awake at night. Who was I?

And then one day, it clicked. I understood who I wasn’t, and why I had felt so miserable for so long.

When people looked at me, the first thing they saw was my body—the body of a male Andalite. Then they noticed my feminine tail, and suddenly they grew uncomfortable, because to them that tail was a flaw, an attribute that didn’t belong.

But my tail wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the rest of me. I wasn’t what people saw.

I wasn’t a male.

I barely passed my first-year exams and almost had to repeat the second. My professors kept telling me I had potential, but they no longer knew how to motivate me. I eventually gave up on most of my math and physics courses to focus almost entirely on chemistry—and especially biology.

I needed to understand my body, this body that didn’t reflect who I truly was. I immersed myself in the study of polynucleotide strands and the covalent bonds that make up DNA. I spent long hours examining genomes and alleles, learning to decipher them through the work of brilliant specialists far more talented than I would ever be.

Then an idea came to me: what if I could modify the DNA of a living being? Not stem cells, of course—that was too easy, and it had been done for years—but the DNA of fully grown individuals. What if I could make the change temporary?

I waited until the weekend to talk to Samaria about it. She was my shorm now and had just finished art school. Her studies had allowed her to travel widely across the galaxy, but she wanted a quieter life. The life of an artist didn’t suit her. She had a boyfriend, a ship pilot, and the two of them were preparing to undertake the Engagement Ritual together.

< That’s an absolutely wonderful idea! > she said, full of enthusiasm. < Have you talked to your professors about it? You could make it your Theoretical Study Topic for your degree. I’m sure they’d approve it. >

< You think so? > I asked, hesitant.

Her excitement warmed my hearts, though I worried she might just be saying that to cheer me up. Still, Samaria had always been an excellent biology student, and that made her opinion matter deeply to me.

< Of course! The key is to present it from the right angle. Do you already have an idea of how to make such a process possible? >

< Well, actually, I’ve been studying medical techniques for cellular regeneration. You know how our doctors can now regrow severed tails by activating a patient’s own DNA. I think I could build from that principle, but for now I still don’t know how to introduce and control a second DNA sequence within the body... >

< I see. So it’s going to force you to use some very advanced medical techniques—and probably others as well. That’s a good thing. Professors love projects that combine multiple disciplines. If you want, I have some free time. I could help you prepare your presentation. >

My hearts started racing. If I wanted to? Oh, I would have loved to work with her again, just like old times.

< But... won’t that delay your preparations for the Engagement Ritual? >

< Oh, don’t worry. My parents are handling everything. I literally have no say in the matter. If I try to give my opinion on which herbs to plant, my mother immediately criticizes everything I suggest... >

There was a hint of exasperation in her voice. In earlier times, it had been common for parents to take charge of organizing Engagement Rituals, but nowadays most couples preferred to plan them themselves. Samaria’s family was open-minded about many things, but still quite old-fashioned about others.

< How are things going with Thorivin-Bardan-Assorax? > I asked, changing the subject. < Have you managed to set a date? >

< We’re doing it next week. >

I straightened, shocked. < So soon?! >

< Yes, but there’s been... an unexpected turn. Actually... >

Her expression suddenly turned serious, almost anxious. It worried me.

We had been lying quietly in the grass beneath a tree when she got up. I watched as she rummaged through her things. After a few moments, she came back toward me.

She was holding a Wish-Flower in her hands.

This time, I leapt to my hooves. < Oh my God. Oh my God! Don’t tell me you— >

Those weren’t the formal words, but I was far too shaken to think about the Announcement Ritual. Fortunately, Samaria kept her composure.

< Escafil-Esturfin-Gortass, a new flower has taken root, though it is still fragile. Will you accept it into your garden, care for it, help it grow, and see that it never wants for anything? >

I froze, too overwhelmed to react. Samaria had caught me completely off guard. This wasn’t the Announcement Ritual. It was the Guardianship Ritual.

I had never imagined she trusted me enough to ask me... this. To me, it was more than an honor. This kind of ritual was usually performed only within the close family circle.

I took the flower. My hands were trembling. So were hers.

< Samaria-Gilleva-Torcass, a new life is about to bloom. I accept, and I solemnly swear to protect this flower and guide it throughout its existence. I will help you, its mother, to ensure its education, happiness, and fulfillment for as long as you allow me. >

She smiled at me, and I felt the gentle warmth of her happiness and gratitude surround me.

That evening, I replanted the Wish-Flower close against my scoop.

I didn’t have to fight very hard to get my professors to approve my Theoretical Study Topic. The idea interested them right away.

For two years, I worked on it relentlessly. It was terribly difficult—and mostly frustrating. The problem with Theoretical Studies is, as the name suggests, they’re theoretical. Since I wasn’t a graduate yet, I didn’t have access to laboratories or research equipment. I had to rely entirely on hypotheses, proving they could work only through the research of others.

My professors were supportive, but I lacked data. I couldn’t tell whether I was moving in the right direction or heading straight for failure.

Samaria helped me too. We met almost every week, at her scoop or mine, and she would listen to me go on about my latest hypotheses and complain about my failures without ever seeming tired of it.

Through patience and persistence, I managed to find a way to copy a foreign DNA strand and store it in the bloodstream. I knew how to activate that DNA. But a new problem had emerged: the difference in mass.

< It’s never going to work! > I said one day, frustrated after my latest demonstrations had been torn apart by my supervising professors. < I’m starting to think that switching from one DNA to another just isn’t possible. It would be, if the two bodies—the original and the new one—had strictly identical compositions, but there’s no universe where that kind of coincidence could happen! >

A noise sounded behind us. Samaria turned one stalk-eye to see what it was, but it was only Axalrin, her son, rolling in the flower bushes. We were at her scoop, and I was helping her tend her orkusha beds. A little farther away, the flickering two-dimensional hologram of a bored-looking Andalite was delivering the latest news. His voice came through as sound rather than thought-speak, flat and monotonous.

“...the discovery of a new species with which diplomatic contact has been established. This species, called the Yeerks, remains under study and already fascinates scientists because of its characteristics, both vegetal and animal. Prince Seerow and his distinguished wife, the botanist Erevia-Foraline-Corass, have been dispatched to the site...”

< Have you tried to... let’s say, shift the problem somewhere else? > Samaria asked.

< Shift the problem? What do you mean? >

< Well, there are atoms in Z-space that can instantly change their properties when they’re brought into our dimension, right? If I remember our elementary physics classes correctly, that change can be controlled to transform Z-atoms into any element—like hydrogen, oxygen, or... >

< Carbon, nitrogen, or phosphorus! > I finished for her.

I felt a surge of excitement and hope rising in me again. Those five elements were the basis of DNA’s atomic composition. If I could import them from Z-space, I could also import calcium, sodium, sulfur—everything that made up a living being.

Conversely, I could send the excess mass into Z-space, where it would immediately be converted into Z-atoms.

< You’re wonderful, Samaria. Truly wonderful! You just saved my entire project. I never would have thought of that without you! >

She started to protest, her cheeks turning from blue to violet. But just then, a loud crash was followed by a terrified scream: Axalrin, while pretending to attack the newscaster’s hologram with his tail, had knocked over the projector, which shattered into a thousand pieces.

For another two years, I deepened my knowledge of Z-space physics and continued to develop my project. My professors were impressed by my creativity. I didn’t dare tell them that the idea about Z-atoms hadn’t been mine.

When I finally felt ready, I took my defense exam. The jury before me was made up of respected teachers and researchers from both physics and biology—major figures in their fields. The stress could have overwhelmed me, but whenever I felt it rise, I only had to lift my tail and look at the fine blade at its tip to remember why I was there. And why I was doing all this.

I searched the public gallery for the reassuring face of Samaria. She was there, standing beside my mother. She lifted her tail to greet me. I lifted mine in return.

A little farther away stood a War-Prince. I wondered what he was doing there, though his presence didn’t really surprise me. It was common for military leaders to attend public defenses at the University of Advanced Scientific Theory. And lately, the Academy had been showing up everywhere.

The political situation was tense, and rumors were spreading that the Electorate was preparing to vote on a military mobilization against a handful of rebel Yeerks who had attacked Prince Seerow and his soldiers. The Cloud Party, the current majority, was trying to save face. But more and more voices were rising to criticize the decisions made over the past few years, and this incident could well lead to the resignation of the High Elect.

If that happened, the Electorate—the assembly of representatives of the people—would be immediately dissolved, and new elections would be held. It was almost certain that most of the seats would then be won by members of the Grass Party, a highly conservative faction deeply suspicious of the other species inhabiting the galaxy.

When I stepped forward before the members of the jury, I felt small. Insignificant. The persistent sense that I didn’t belong there gnawed at me. Who was I, a mere student of no importance, standing before all these renowned researchers and experts?

I began my presentation. My voice was timid at first, then grew steadier as I was carried along by the subject itself. I knew it by heart—every detail, every calculation, every line of reasoning.

For more than three hours, almost four, I spoke about my process, my research, the obstacles I had faced and how I had overcome them. Then came the questions. I answered them. At first, I thought they were trying to trap me, to find the flaws in my reasoning, just as my professors had done over the past few years. Then I realized that, on the contrary, all these specialists truly wanted to understand my work.

They congratulated me. They praised my project. They admired my boldness and ingenuity.

And then, after the defense, the War-Prince came to speak with me.

< What do you think of the Yeerks, Escafil-Esturfin-Gortass? >

< The Yeerks? >

< Yes, the Yeerks. You’ve heard of them, haven’t you? >

< Of course. You’d have to live out in the Sorieti fields not to have heard of them. >

< Then what do you think of them? >

His question made me terribly uncomfortable. What was I supposed to say? I decided to be honest.

< They’re parasites, aren’t they? I understand them. >

< You understand them? >

That clearly wasn’t the answer he’d expected.

< Yes, I understand them. Or at least, I understand those who want hosts. They do it because their bodies—the ones they were born with—don’t suit them. > I brought my tail forward so he could see the blade. < I understand them. >

For several seconds, he said nothing, simply staring at my tail with an unreadable expression. He hadn’t even introduced himself, and I still didn’t know his name.

< I’ve spoken with the members of the jury, > he finally said. < They’re going to grant you your Degree. >

My hearts did somersaults. But could I believe him? It wasn’t very proper procedure. Normally the jury took time to deliberate, and the results weren’t announced for several weeks.

< That means, > he continued, < you’ll be able to begin the Experimental Research phase. You’ll need to find funding and a laboratory willing to host you. >

< Yes, I... I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet... >

That wasn’t entirely true. Samaria had been urging me for months to start thinking about it. But being pessimistic by nature, I’d refused to begin the process, saying I should focus on my defense first and worry about the rest later.

< The University is about to open a new research department under the Academy’s supervision. I’ll be in charge of it. And I’d like to offer you the very first opening. >

I faltered. He... what?

< A new department... under the Academy’s supervision? > I stammered. < I don’t understand... I mean, no one’s mentioned any such project... >

< Because it hasn’t yet been approved by the Electorate. But once the High Elect resigns and new elections are held, it’ll only be a matter of days before everything falls into place. >

It took me a moment to process what he was saying.

First, that the Grass Party already expected to take power.

And second, that I might be able to become a Researcher—if I wanted to. And bring my project to life.

< You’ll have access to all the equipment you need, > the War-Prince said, probably sensing my hesitation. < The only condition is that your work must serve the military first and foremost. >

< Meaning what? What do you intend to use it for? >

< It’s a project that will serve Andalite interests throughout the galaxy. It will allow us to contact new species safely, by blending in among them as equals. >

Espionage. That was what he meant, most likely.

But there was something else behind it, I was sure of it.

I didn’t like the idea. I didn’t like it at all.

I took the time to discuss the offer at length with Samaria. She had the same doubts and reservations I did.

That same evening, the Electorate voted for war against the Yeerks. After the vote, the High Elect appeared before the people. In a humble and terribly dignified speech, he announced his resignation.

Unsurprisingly, the Grass Party won nearly all the seats in the subsequent elections. The result depressed me. Of course I had expected them to win, but I hadn’t thought the victory would be so overwhelming.

All around me I heard speeches calling for withdrawal, selfishness, and hate. Prince Seerow became the focal point of this backlash, the symbol of what happens when you open yourself too much to other species, when you are generous to them. The poor Prince was the target of a monstrous smear campaign, a sign of how much our society was shifting under the influence of the Herbists.

Even before my Degree was officially confirmed, I began approaching laboratories to tell them about my project. But even those who seemed remotely interested ended up turning me down.

< The times ahead will be hard. What use is a technology meant to change people? What we need are weapons! >

The War-Prince came back to see me. He made a new, more insistent offer.

< You should accept, > Samaria told me. < The military really seems to want your technology. You should use this chance to set your own terms. >

< And what terms? > I shot back, utterly disheartened.

< Tell them you want this technology to eventually be accessible to everyone. Not just to the military. That’s what you want, isn’t it? >

I didn’t answer. I no longer knew what I wanted. With this war, everything had become so complicated.

I turned my stalk-eyes back and let my tail swing from side to side in a mechanical motion. There was a time when looking at it like that comforted me and strengthened my resolve. Today… I didn’t know anymore. I was lost.

Samaria stepped closer and gently laid her hand on my forearm. I felt the warm comfort she sent me in my mind.

< I don’t mean to be alarmist, > she said, < but I think the truth is you don’t really have a choice. You know Thorivin’s sister is still in school… I’ve heard students are already looking at your work to build on it. I’m afraid that if you don’t finish this, someone else will do it in your place… >

Normally, I would have straightened up, shocked. But I knew she was right. Others were already trying to copy my idea—the very idea that, supposedly, no one cared about.

I went back to see the War-Prince and accepted the offer—while trying, of course, to set my own conditions, just as Samaria had suggested. I wanted my technology, if I ever managed to bring it to life, to benefit everyone. Civilians as well as soldiers.

I thought of the Yeerks, those who took bodies by force to experience lives they couldn’t live in their own. Maybe my technology could help them someday. Maybe... But for now, that wasn’t even something one could think about. Everyone was talking only about the disasters caused by supposedly inferior species when given access to technologies beyond their understanding.

I thought of other Andalites—those who, like me, had not been born into the right bodies. Those who felt ashamed. Those who dreamed of one day being themselves. I hoped I could bring them some measure of peace.

They gave me a laboratory and almost unlimited resources. I could ask for anything I wanted. Whoever was behind the decisions, they clearly wanted my technology.

Samaria came to help me. She was bored and had asked to join the project to occupy her free time. Axalrin had grown up and no longer needed as much attention, and her husband, Thorivin, had decided to enlist in the army to fight the Yeerks—a decision that had deeply upset Samaria and seemed to have created an irreparable rift between them.

Her help was invaluable. Together, we managed to develop a first prototype.

I insisted on being the first to test it, of course.

< Okay. So... here we go? >

I was tense to the point of trembling, standing perfectly straight in the middle of my laboratory. Only Samaria was there. Around us, an array of sensors and recorders would track and analyze the experiment.

< Escafil-Esturfin-Gortass, > I said to the computer, < we’re proceeding with the injection of the selected DNA. >

Samaria approached, carrying a white tray with a syringe on it. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked it up.

< Are you really sure about this? > she asked softly.

I nodded.

She lifted the syringe. Inside was a liquid containing her own DNA, which she had volunteered for the experiment.

A chill spread through my arm as she injected the substance.

< All right. Now we just wait and see how your body reacts to the foreign DNA. >

For three days, I remained under medical observation. My body didn’t reject it or show any allergic reaction. The foreign DNA wasn’t destroyed by my immune system. Everything was going smoothly.

< I think we can consider this first stage a success, > Samaria said, her voice bright with excitement. < Now, let’s move on to phase two. Ready? >

Once again, she held a syringe. This one contained a compound that would bind to my own DNA and act as an interdimensional link, allowing my body to transform through the use of Z-atoms. The process would be controlled by my own mind.

I waited several hours to make sure the compound had settled correctly, and that there would be no unexpected reaction.

< Your vitals are stable, > Samaria said. < Your Tria gland is slightly inflamed, but that was expected. >

I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath.

Then I focused.

I pictured Samaria in my mind. I imagined myself becoming her.

I thought of her height, smaller than mine, her frame, a bit delicate. Her grace, her perfect posture. That small wrinkle at the corner of her eyes from smiling all the time.

I barely felt anything. It happened surprisingly fast. My bones shifted; I felt a deep discomfort in my muscles—and then it was over.

< By Yaolin! That’s... >

I opened my eyes. A knot of anxiety twisted in my gut.

I looked down at my hands. They were smaller. Different.

< It worked? > I stammered, confused. < It worked! >

< Yes, it worked, > she confirmed.

By reflex, I looked behind me, at my tail, the way I always did to reassure myself.

My tail. It wasn’t my tail anymore!

Suddenly, an irrational panic seized me. This body—it wasn’t mine. Not mine! Something was wrong! I wasn’t in my body!

My panic nearly overwhelmed my reason. I focused on returning to my original form. For one terrifying second, I feared nothing would happen—that I might be trapped like this forever.

And then my tail was my tail again, and calm slowly returned.

The experience left me shaken. For several weeks, I avoided the laboratory. Samaria called me every day, but I didn’t answer. She even tried to come see me; I pretended not to be home.

I couldn’t understand my own reaction. Why the panic, the sudden terror? Wasn’t this what I’d wanted all my life—to transform my body into a female body? A body that truly represented who I was?

I thought about giving it all up. I told myself maybe this wasn’t what I really wanted, deep down. But then I realized the change had simply been too abrupt. Too sudden.

I had copied Samaria’s DNA—my best friend, my shorm. But my goal had never been to take her place. My goal was to build a body of my own.

A body that, as much as possible, would truly reflect who I was.

I went back to work. Samaria insisted that I explain what had happened. I told her about my fears. She listened.

Together, we began working on a way to combine multiple DNA strands.

Samaria walked in looking tired and slightly irritated. Her son Axalrin was with her, along with one of his friends.

< Their teacher’s sick today. I have to keep him with me. >

It wasn’t the first time Axalrin had come to the lab. He gave me a distracted hello, dropped his things, and went straight to his usual computer. The music from his favorite sports game filled the room.

His friend stayed near the doorway, looking lost and a little overwhelmed. Her stalk-eyes twitched in every direction, as if she wanted to take in everything around her at once.

< Come in, > I said. < Don’t be shy. >

Her body shivered slightly. She darted toward Axalrin, but since he was completely absorbed in his game, she turned instead to look curiously at the equipment. Some machines were taller than she was—even taller than I was. Others were tiny, no bigger than a seed. Her attention lingered briefly on one of the three particle accelerators.

< What’s your name, young one? > I asked.

< Aldrea. >

< Aldrea? > The name sounded familiar. Then I remembered. < Oh! You’re the daughter of— >

< Yes, that’s my father, > she cut in sharply.

< ...of Erevia, > I finished, caught off guard by her tone. < You’re Erevia’s daughter. A brilliant biologist. I studied several of her papers before I earned my Degree. >

The hostility faded from Aldrea’s eyes. She suddenly looked embarrassed.

< And you’re the lady working on the morphing technology, right? >

My hearts tightened. The lady. It was the first time anyone had ever called me that.

My eyes smiled at her.

< Yes, I’m that lady. Would you like me to tell you a bit about it? >

< Oh, I’d love that! >

I invited her to come closer. On the desk before me was a large open box, surrounded by scattered tools and components.

I glanced at Axalrin, but he was completely engrossed in his game. I knew he wouldn’t be interested in coming over. It had been a long time since he’d asked questions about any of this. Samaria and I talked about work all the time when we were together; I understood why he might be tired of it.

< Up until now, we’ve worked with direct injections into the body, > I explained to Aldrea. < But now we’re developing an interface to avoid having to use those injections. >

< There’s a double technology behind it, isn’t there? That’s what I heard. First, you have to make sure the body can absorb and store foreign DNA. Then you have to make it able to assimilate and convert Z-atoms into other atoms. Is that right? >

Her questions surprised me—they were incredibly sharp for someone her age.

< Yes, that’s exactly right. And we’ve also designed an interface so that the entire process can be controlled by thought. >

The young Andalite practically bounced with excitement as she watched me handle the components. < Everyone at school’s talking about your discovery. They say you’ve revolutionized what we know about Z-atom physics! >

I struggled not to react. From across the room, I caught Samaria’s amused look.

< Told you, > she murmured so only I could hear. < You’re the only one who doesn’t believe in your own genius. >

It was an old joke between us.

< It’s not a great discovery, > I told Aldrea, uncomfortable. < I only gathered together existing knowledge. If anyone deserves credit, it’s the researchers who first revealed the properties of Z-atoms. >

< But isn’t that what discovery means? Using what we already know to go further? > Aldrea replied.

This time, I didn’t answer. I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

Aldrea stared at the open cube on the table, wide-eyed with wonder. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk, as if holding herself back from touching it.

< How does it work, exactly? >

< Well, the idea is that when someone touches this cube, they gain the ability to morph. After that, all they have to do is touch a living creature to acquire its DNA. >

< And to transform afterward? >

< They simply have to focus and they’ll become that living being. >

< Will it be permanent? >

< No. They’ll be able to return to their original form, as long as they do so within two hours. >

< Why two hours? >

< Because after that, if Z-atoms aren’t sent back to their original dimension, they permanently become whatever they were transformed into when they entered ours. It’s irreversible. >

< Oh. >

She took a slight step back. I imagine that was when she began to realize this power wasn’t a toy, but something to be taken seriously.

Her four young eyes lifted toward me.

< Could I try it? >

Several years passed. How many, exactly? I don’t know. I think that after spending so much time shut away in my laboratory, I eventually lost all sense of time.

Samaria and I completed the interface. The first tests were carried out on volunteers—soldiers. They were successful.

Other scientists began studying the morphing process. They wanted to make sure it was safe. And I believe some of them simply took the opportunity to explore the behavior of Z-atoms more closely when projected into our dimension.

I became something of a celebrity. Hardly a week went by without my being invited to a scientific symposium or a political banquet. At schools, students studied the new theories I had brought to light. And already, a new generation of researchers was building on my work to develop their own projects.

The “Escafil Device” became a coveted object. First reserved for the military, it was soon made available to everyone—and I knew my agreement with the Academy had nothing to do with it. It was a political decision. The war against the Yeerks was dragging on, and troop morale was beginning to fall. The Grass Party needed to distract the people, to keep them from realizing just how thoroughly they had been deceived.

What better distraction than the spectacle of a transformation so beautiful, so perfectly controlled, that it gave birth to a new form of art? Or to let celebrities endlessly gush about that wonderful sensation you feel the first time you spread a kafit’s wings and take flight?

Over time, my fame became harder and harder to bear. Daily life suffocated me. I couldn’t stand the public’s constant attention, nor even that of my fellow scientists.

They all praised me, all called me a genius.

And they all defined me as male.

< Are you ready? >

I was at Samaria’s home. She held in her hands a smaller version of the blue cube—a simplified version, a single-use model, you could say.

She handed it to me. < Don’t forget, you can change your mind right up to the last moment. >

I nodded slowly. I was too anxious to speak.

My only morphing experience so far had been a disaster. I had to hope this one would go better.

I reached out my trembling hand.

The cube would inject a single DNA pattern—a blend of my own DNA and that of three Andalite volunteers who had donated theirs to help me in my research.

A brief jolt ran up my arm. And that was all.

I took a deep breath and closed all four of my eyes. Then I focused.

As before, I hardly felt anything. Just a faint pull in my muscles. My height must have changed, because I had to readjust my stance.

And then, nothing.

It took me a while to open my eyes again. The anxiety still gripped me.

I looked for a reflection of myself in Samaria’s gaze.

At first, I saw nothing. Then she smiled—warmly, gently.

< You’re beautiful. >

Relief washed over me. Only then did I dare glance back toward my hindquarters.

My tail was the same. It  was my own tail, the one I’d always known. The one that comforted me.

I stepped toward a tall mirror.

The rest of my body had changed. I still recognized certain features, but it was no longer a male’s body.

Samaria came closer, meeting my eyes through the reflection.

< You’re more than beautiful, > she said. < You are perfect. >

Her hand brushed mine. I took it. Then she leaned her forehead against mine.

A soft warmth enveloped me—the warmth of her pride, and her affection.

I opened my mind to hers as she opened hers to mine, so she could feel how happy and at peace I was in that moment. And I told her, without a single spoken word, how deeply grateful I was for everything she had done for me.

< Stay with me, please… >

She drew back just enough to look me in the eyes. That’s when I realized her hand was resting against my cheek.

< I will. >

We ran together through the fields, then into the forest. Side by side. Without caring about judgment. Without caring about anything.

When we reached the stream, we leapt. Our hooves skimmed the surface, sometimes grazing the water, sometimes splashing it high into the air. It felt like pure freedom.

Time passed, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all.

I stopped suddenly.

< It’s done. >

Samaria stopped beside me. Like me, she was out of breath, her cheeks flushed purple.

< Yes, > she said, because she knew it too. < It’s done. >

The two hours had passed.

I waited a few seconds, then tried to demorph—just to be sure.

Nothing happened.

A sense of relief unlike anything I had ever felt before flooded through me. So powerful that I began to laugh—softly at first, then louder. It was a pure, joyful laugh.

I lifted my four eyes to the sky and cried out for anyone who might hear:

< I am finally myself! >