Archive of Our Own

One second, my friends’ alarmed thought-speech rang in my head. 

The next, I was alone. In darkness. The Bug Fighter I had hijacked still had emergency power, but something had gone wrong with the engines. They'd sparked, exploded, and launched me… somewhere. I realized, belatedly, that this was probably why it was left alone in the hangar in the first place. 

I probably wasn't dead. I didn't think dead people could feel their ribcage expand and contract with every breath. In fact, I wasn't even injured. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, and some systems near the engine had been damaged, including the main power, but the ship was otherwise intact. 

That was a good thing, because when I booted up the external sensor readout, I saw that the atmosphere was ammonia-based. The temperature was hot enough to cook me, if the chemical burns didn't first. Not to mention the atmospheric pressure high enough to crack bone. 

This had to be a Sario Rip. I knew the concept was impossible, but that did not prevent it from happening multiple times before.

Were my friends still back on Earth, wondering where I was? Or had they been scattered elsewhere? 

I couldn't waste time worrying about them. I had to assess my own situation. 

I worried anyway. 

<Hello?> I broadcasted my thought-speech as far as I could, straining my mind for the telltale ping of connection with another mind. Nothing. 

The emergency systems couldn't give me my exact location, only what the external sensors could detect. I had to get the main power back online. So I headed for the back of the ship. 

My friends always reprimanded me for sleeping through class, but I paid enough attention to know the basic layout of a Bug Fighter. At the end of the main hall, I crouched down and pried open a hatch in the floor to reveal a toolbox. And with that, the access panel came off easily. 

Some surge protectors were fried. I replaced them using supplies from a nearby cabinet. Then I toggled the power switch. The lights flared brighter, then dimmed again. 

Nothing else seemed wrong in the part of the ship that I could see, but I knew there was a mechanism near the engines that absorbed energy from the thrusters and used it to recharge the internal battery. Which meant I would have to go outside. 

Something tapped against the hull. The sound echoed through the empty ship. 

The hair along my spine bristled. My nostrils flared. My tail twitched. 

<Hello?> 

Nothing. No sign of intelligence. 

That didn't necessarily mean it was a predator, I tried to reason. But my hearts skittered out of sync anyway. I braced myself against the wall, waiting for my breathing to slow. 

I had to fix the power. I needed light. I needed a way to communicate long distance. Most importantly, I needed to get into Z-space and return to Earth - if the Sario Rip hadn't stranded me in another timeline entirely. 

My hoofsteps were clumsy as I crossed over to the airlock. There were no Andalite-shaped EVA suits, of course. Visser Three was the only Andalite host of the Yeerks. And there was no reason for him to be on a random drone. Luckily, I had a Hork-Bajir morph. I found a suit that was the same approximate size, morphed, and put on the suit. 

I missed my tail blade immediately. The EVA suit had very thin, transparent coverings for the Hork-Bajir's many blades, but the covering still dulled them like a sheathed knife. I did not want to find out how the suit's material stood up to an actual fight. 

I stared out of the viewport, trying to see anything at all, but Hork-Bajir eyes are not very good in the darkness. Anyway, aside from the emergency lights filtering out from the ship's small viewports, there was no other light source for any eyes to make use of. 

Bracing myself, I slid open the airlock. I could feel the heat through the suit, but the material held. It felt like an uncomfortably hot summer day on Earth, not the brutal boil it would be if I went without. 

Rocks scraped against each other. I froze, edging backwards. Was there a landslide? The sound got closer, then abruptly stopped. There was a quiet howling, almost like wind, but there was a structure to it. It rose and fell like a song. No, not just wind. The wind couldn't harmonize like that. It was almost hypnotic. 

I called out again in thought-speak. There was no response. Even androids could respond to thought-speak. And whatever was making that sound was either intelligent or made by someone who was. 

If not an android, then what? 

A tremor shook my muscles. My heart fluttered against my ribcage. Hork-Bajir had no natural predators. My morph was eerily calm. My Andalite brain was… not. 

I was painfully, gut-clenchingly reminded that Andalites were prey animals in our recent evolutionary past. That past felt less and less distant with every step I took away from the airlock door. 

I ran my hands along the edge of the helmet until I found the headlight. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing not much of interest. Everything around me was sand and rock. It looked like an Earth desert, or a cave floor. When I looked up, I almost expected to see a ceiling of stone above me. There was nothing. The light disappeared into the distance. A constant, faint mist of ammonia swirled in the beam. 

I looked back down, watching my step on the uneven ground. The headlight was useless past ten or twenty meters. I could not see the landscape around me. There might have been flat dunes stretching to each horizon, or I might have been surrounded by craggy mountains. With the ship’s radar and sonar offline, I had no way of knowing. 

The engines were a tangled, soot-saturated mess. The ammonia mist had turned the carbon into a disgusting slurry. With the dark color absorbing the light from my helmet, it was difficult to assess the damage. However, as inexperienced with engineering as I was, I knew this was beyond my skills to repair. 

I had to dig around in the gnarl of scrap metal, but eventually I found the power converter. To my unsurprised dismay, it was also scorched beyond repair by the explosion. 

Hork-Bajir arms are very strong compared to Andalite arms. I was able to yank it away from its connections and throw it far past the reach of my headlight. It clattered against some boulders, then it might as well have vanished into nothingness. My chest heaved, breath fogging the glass of my helmet. A sensor beeped a warning. My heart was beating too hard or too fast, according to whoever had programmed the suit. 

I wanted to curl up then and there and let the hopelessness of the situation wash over me. I am ashamed to admit this, but I have a responsibility to be honest. 

Instead, I dragged myself back to the airlock. The gravity on this planet was many times that of Earth’s, a fact I hadn’t appreciated until I had tried moving around in earnest. 

I heard the sound of rocks scraping against each other again. This time, it was clearly following me, matching my footsteps. 

This time, when I stopped, it kept moving. 

I whipped my head around, letting the headlight sweep over my pursuer. I initially thought once again of a landslide, but there was only one rock. No, I corrected myself, there was a pile of rocks. Then I looked closer, and the pile moved, and I realized the rocks were all connected. They were a muddy brown color, with a few patches of glittering green inclusions. Five limbs projected out from a central boulder. The thing had no face, but it made sounds similar to Earth whales or my homeworld’s kafit bird. 

Confusingly, it wore a sort of knit sweater with five holes for its limbs, covering the bottom half of its central carapace.

The thing didn’t move closer, but it pulled its legs tighter when I edged back, reminding me of a predator preparing to pounce. The music became louder, more insistent. 

<Who are you?> I reached out instinctively, expecting the familiar awareness that another mind had heard me. There was nothing. No acknowledgement. No presence. I might as well have been speaking in a vacuum. 

I edged back closer to the airlock. The thing stayed close. <Stay back,> I said uselessly, flaring my arm blades in a threat display. The thing froze, the howling taking on a lower register, and stepped back. 

As I stepped back into the airlock, it occurred to me that the thing appeared to be solid rock. It was unaffected by the intense atmosphere of this planet. It was unlikely to be bothered by Hork Bajir or even Andalite blades, not if its hardness was in any way comparable to a normal rock. I was lucky my display worked, but that luck would probably not last. 

Emergency power, being meant for emergencies, was not going to last indefinitely. I had oxygen and light for a few hours. Then, I would slowly suffocate. Though the converter was now a useless lump of carbon, I deeply regretted throwing it. As I sat heavily on the ground inside the airlock, I felt like an equally useless lump of carbon. 

I took off the EVA suit and demorphed, unable to stop the anxious flicking of my tail blade. I thought I had grown out of this unfortunate habit, but my muscles vibrated with tension. I was keenly aware of how quickly I was breathing and how much oxygen flowed through my lungs. 

It occurred to me then that I had several morphs much smaller than my Andalite body. I could at least extend the life of my oxygen reserves. An insect, namely a cockroach, would be the most economical. The simplistic mind of a creature that small might also provide me with the calm I needed to think through my situation. 

As the floor rose up to meet me and my tail blade regrettably absorbed back into my liquefying spine, I heard a trilling shriek and a frantic banging on the hull. Something raced back and forth, searching for a way in. I had never felt pain while morphing before, but the way my hearts lurched as they dissolved sent a crushing pain through my emerging thorax.  

Finally, I was a cockroach again. The pain became a distant memory. Everything felt one step removed from the reality I inhabited. This was good. My Andalite brain had become unreliable. This thought unsettled me more than the creature outside. I was aware that I had no evidence it was a predator. My instincts remained unconvinced. 

I raced back to the access panel. There was just enough of a gap for me to slip inside. Using my antennae, I felt along the wiring, searching for any more repairs that needed to be made. A few wires had burned out, but I could not tell where they connected and I did not want to get lost between the layers of the Bug Fighter’s hull. Demorphing here would certainly kill me. 

Something scraped along the hull. It sounded almost like footsteps, or like someone was throwing rocks at the ship. I had a sinking feeling. I froze and listened as the rock creature walked around the perimeter of the damaged engines, tapping them every so often, making more musical sounds as if talking to itself. Then the sounds faded into the distance. 

I found my way out of the wiring system and back into the hull. I fought the urge to demorph, remembering my limited oxygen. Eventually, I would have to demorph and remorph. It was not yet time. 

I found a dark corner of the ship and let my roach brain settle into a light doze, keeping a thread of my attention fixated on my internal clock.

I awoke to tapping at the airlock door. The creature was intelligent enough to realize that the door existed, that this was where I entered and exited. It even seemed to have a concept of knocking to get someone’s attention. There was no doubt that it was intelligent. If that was the case, why was my thought-speech not reaching it? 

I demorphed, and the creature once again shrieked. There was an uncoordinated shuffling sound as if it was flailing. Had I startled it? 

How could I have startled it? 

I had demorphed inside the hull, not near any windows. 

The hair on my spine bristled and I kept my tail blade arched and ready. I peered through the airlock window to see the rock creature trembling, holding the damaged converter in two prehensile claws. Its other three limbs were in constant motion, almost of their own accord. But its movements were stiffer than before, as if it was tense or uncertain. 

It tilted its carapace up to look at my face through the window, though it had no face to look back with. Then it set the converter down and backed away into the shadows. 

I had every reason to suspect a trap. Yet I could not understand what purpose such deception would serve. 

Then two claws emerged into the pool of light from the window, sliding another object into view. It appeared to be of a similar shape to the ruined converter, made of geometric, polygonal panels of metal. It was partially constructed. The most damaged part of the converter was left unfinished by this replica. I could see half a circuit board through the opening. 

This creature had reverse-engineered the Bug Fighter’s mechanics. 

I slowly stepped back, hands shaking. My tail blade moved spastically, nearly slicing my own skin. I trod on the flat of the blade, pinning it against the floor. My stalk eyes ducked low against my skull, and my ears pinned flat. My body was moving on its own, without my input. I felt like a passenger. I wondered if this was how a Controller felt. 

I had thought the human expression “my heart climbed into my throat” was mere figurative language, but I have no better words to describe the sensation. 

Then, silence. 

No song. No shuffling. 

The creature was either gone, or it was lying in wait. 

My breath rasped. I knew I had to demorph again to conserve oxygen, but my muscles were locked into place. My stalk eyes swiveled at every slight movement. All of my thoughts were trained on my surroundings, leaving no room for the focused visualization needed for morphing. 

I stayed that way for a long while. For once, I could not tell you precisely how long. I knew it was close to half an Earth hour, but I was unsure of the margin of error. 

My hooves scraped the ground, aching to run. 

Another knock on the airlock made me jolt. I stepped painfully on my tail itself. Then I stepped forward again, forcing my stalk eyes upright, though they quivered. Half my vision trembled with them. 

“Hey, buddy,” said a soft, tentative, human voice. “Rocky tells me you’re having a rough day.” 

It was undoubtedly a human. How could a human be here, on such a hostile planet? I peered through the window, forcing my vision into focus. 

The rock creature was back, standing side by side with what at first glance looked like a much larger rock creature. Then I realized it was a machine, a five-legged all-terrain vehicle of sorts. On top of the legs was a transparent metal dome. Inside, sitting at a simple control panel, was a human. The dome kept him protected from the atmosphere. He wore an old sweater with foxes dancing across it, gold-rimmed glasses, and an array of jewelry that chimed quietly as he moved. He had light hair and a kind expression, though his eyes widened with alarm as he saw me. This was understandable. I was also alarmed.

<Hello,> I called out automatically, knees shaking in relief when I felt the familiar presence of another mind. I could not form another coherent thought-speech sentence after that. All of my focus was on staying upright and not looking like a newborn colt. I had just enough presence of mind to turn on the outside speaker so I could hear the human’s response.

The human flinched, clutching his head. “Oh, holy moly! That’s new! Wow!” He blinked hard, shaking his head. “Did you just… was that telepathy?” 

<It is similar,> I forced myself to answer. I was the first Andalite this human had seen. I would not embarrass my entire species. <It is called thought-speech. Why can your companion not detect it?> 

The human turned to look at the rock creature. “Rocky?” 

The rock creature made a chiming noise. 

The human turned back to me. “He says he didn’t know you were trying to talk. So… I guess you’re right. Tele- sorry, thought-speech doesn’t work on Eridians.” 

<Eridians?>

The human used the forward-facing lights on his vehicle to look up and down the length of the Bug Fighter. “First thing’s first, while I’d love to answer your questions and ask some of my own… how are you on atmosphere?” 

<I have two of your Earth hours of oxygen left.> 

The human turned toward Rocky. “Two of ‘my Earth hours’ of oxygen.” He gasped, then turned back to me. “You said… Earth? Have you been there? How…?” He struck the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Right. So. You breathe oxygen. Good. So do I.” 

<Yes. I have spent much time on Earth. Your atmosphere is very agreeable to me. This atmosphere is very much not, and I would rather not be exposed to it.> 

“Hmmm…” The human stroked his chin in thought, studying the airlock. “You’re rather large - no offense. About the size of a deer. I don’t think you’ll fit in my Land Spider.” 

Humans were not supposed to know about morphing technology, but humans were also not supposed to be inhabiting other planets. Anyway, I did not have much time to develop an airtight strategy. <I can morph into something smaller. I have several insect, bird, and small animal morphs.> 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think that translated…? What does ‘morphing’ mean?” 

<I have absorbed the DNA of many species into my person. For two hours at a time, I can turn into any one of these forms.>  

The humans’ eyes were wide again, brimming with questions. But he said, “Something small? How small do you want to go?” 

I did not feel comfortable morphing an insect and leaving myself vulnerable to creatures much bigger than me, so I opted for a rattlesnake. It would be useless against the Eridian, but it would send a message to the human. 

<I am going to morph a rattlesnake,> I said. <Please be advised that this process is alarming to people who have not seen it. I am not in pain or distress. Do not intervene.>  

I opened the airlock door. And then I morphed, and just before my ears shriveled into my rapidly-shrinking skull, I heard the human yelp in a much higher pitch than I thought an adult man capable of. 

I heard a rumbling of footsteps as Rocky flailed again, a distant soothing murmur of the human’s voice. Then Rocky entered the airlock - the human’s vehicle would not fit through the opening. I felt more movement through the ground but could not see through the window, given my very close proximity to the floor. It sounded like Rocky was stepping into a hard, pliable material. I realized that if his atmosphere was hostile to me, mine would be hostile to him. 

The airlock cycled. Rocky, in a transparent metal suit, held open a box made of the same material. Did he use this building material for everything? 

With no other option, I slithered into the box. I did not like being enclosed in such a small container or carried by a creature whose mind I could not sense. At any point, he could drop me or crush me and I would have no way to retaliate. My tail buzzed in a nervous rattle and my tongue flicked in and out, searching for any chemical signature. The air inside the box was sterile, and the metal tasted like nothing. 

Rocky placed the box in a small airlock compartment attached to the human’s dome. The human picked up the box, opened it immediately, then froze as if realizing what he had just done. I am ashamed to admit I felt a little bit satisfied at his fear response as I slithered across his lap and let myself drop down to the floor. 

The floor was pleasantly warm, absorbing the heat from outside. I coiled myself loosely next to the human’s chair, well out of stomping range. 

<My name is Aximilli-Esgarrouth-Isthill,> I greeted. <I am an Andalite. I recognize you as a human. What is your name?>  

“Uh… Grace. Dr. Ryland Grace. But just… just call me Grace, please.” 

It was very strange for a human with a doctorate to not insist on the honorific, but I did not want to offend my rescuer. <Grace, how did you come to live here? What are Eridians?>  

The vehicle started on its journey back. Grace said my question out loud for Rocky’s benefit, then answered. It was a very long story about the sun being eaten by microbes, Earth sending Grace on a one-way mission to find a solution, Rocky’s people sending Rocky and his crew on a similar mission, and the two being the sole survivors who found a way to save the stars regardless. 

<I have never heard of Astrophage,> I admitted. <Earth’s Sun has not changed in its brightness to my knowledge. Until recently, I was on Earth. I would have noticed.> 

Grace hummed in thought. He looked troubled. “You’ve never heard of Astrophage… the Sun is not dimming… Aximilli, what year was it when you left?” 

<The year was 2002.> 

Grace inhaled sharply. His eyes went wide again. “Cheese and crackers. And… how long did it feel like, for you?” 

<The travel was instantaneous.>  

His brow furrowed. “Instantaneous travel over 20 years in the future… that’s just not possible. Even going near the speed of light, going from Earth to 40-Eridani took multiple years.” 

<You did not travel through Z-space?>  

“What?” 

By the time I had explained the basic concept, we had arrived back at the biodome. As soon as the airlock cycled, Grace leaped from the Land Spider and raced for his house. I demorphed as quickly as I could and followed, noting the picturesque beach and the small but thriving selection of Earth plants. It was certainly habitable to Earth life, but not a perfect replica of Earth. It looked like a work in progress. And through the diffuse light of the artificial sun, I saw more Eridians peering through the transparent metal. I saw them, but I did not sense them, and something crawled up my spine. 

I had spent much of my time on Earth trying to avoid being studied by scientists, but Grace was much more considerate than I had expected. Anyway, if I wanted to have any useful conversations with this human, I needed to allow him to satisfy his curiosity. Human curiosity is an alarmingly powerful instinct, and were Grace an Andalite, his name may have been invoked in the same way as Seerow's. 

“I'm sorry, I know this sounds weird and invasive. You can refuse. No hard feelings. Could I… possibly take a few samples?” 

<That depends entirely on what you are sampling.> 

“Hair, maybe blood? And saliva, if… if you even… wait, how do you eat?” 

<I absorb nutrients through my hooves. I have been sampling the grass on the way here. It is clearly Earth grass, but the texture is not as satisfying.>  

Grace's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You eat… with your hooves?” 

Anticipating his next question, I lifted my hoof for him to inspect. He paused, glancing at Rocky, who had started edging away, muttering “disgust, disgust” into the translator. 

<My species has no cultural taboo around this aspect of digestion,> I assured him. <As a herding species, eating together is a social norm. Just… as humans say… don't make this weird.> It was already weird, but I did not tell him that. 

Grace took my hoof in his and gently prodded along the outside. He took pictures from multiple angles and wrote a few things down. It was so like a medical checkup that I braced myself to be scolded for ingesting too many worms. 

When he poked at a particularly sensitive spot, I flinched away, bracing myself against the urge to swat him with the flat of my tail blade. He flinched back as well, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?” 

<No, but it was unpleasant. I suppose I would have gagged or vomited if my digestive system functioned like a human's.> 

“So you're a ruminant?” 

<I have multiple stomachs, but I do not chew my food multiple times.>  

Grace then asked me about my other senses. I explained that my skin was sensitive to the same stimuli as human skin, my olfactory sense was somewhat better, and my stalk eyes could see somewhat into the ultraviolet and infrared spectrums. I informed Rocky that, now that we were in daylight, I could see ultraviolet speckles in his carapace. Rocky was delighted. 

Grace then shaved a discreet patch of blue fur from my flank, calling the color “beautiful.” Humans seemed to have an affinity for the color blue. 

When I extended my front leg for him to draw blood, he seemed shocked at my cooperation. But he quickly composed himself, uncapping a syringe and feeling for a vein. “I guess it makes sense that you'd have more prominent veins in your legs than your arms, since that's where your digestive tract is. But I've never drawn blood on an ungulate before. Bear with me. Small pinch.” 

My skin quivered involuntarily as the needle pierced it. <I can confirm that it is only mildly painful. I have met better phlebotomists.>  

He capped the test tube, staring in awe at my blue blood. “You've met enough to compare them?” 

<Blood samples are a routine procedure in the Andalite military, even for arisths - cadets.>  

Grace froze, nearly fumbling the test tube as he tried to place it in a rack. “Cadet? How old are you?” 

I knew he was not asking about my chronological age. That information would be useless to him. <Developmentally, I am similar to a thirteen-year-old human.>  

He spun around so fast I braced for an attack. His face was white with shock. His glasses fell, hanging from a beaded chain around his neck, but he did not replace them. “Holy schist, you're a kid!” Then he buried his face in his hands as if hiding himself from me. “Oh no. I'm a teacher, I shouldn't have assumed- you're probably scared out of your mind and away from your parents and here comes this creepy old guy asking to take your blood-” 

<It is quite alright,>  I interrupted. <I was piloting a spaceship alone. Generally speaking, even in Andalite society, this is something only adults are capable of. My species is at war. I have had to gain new skills rapidly.>  

Somehow, his face became even paler by the time his hands fell away. 

<My parents believe I am dead,> I assured him. <My ship crash-landed on Earth. I am stranded there. Nobody is looking for me. I only wish to return to Earth to help humans in their fight against a mutual enemy.>  

His eyes were shiny as if he were about to cry. I did not understand why. I was only stating the facts of my circumstance. 

Grace looked at Rocky, and Rocky turned his carapace as if he was looking at Grace, and they seemed to share an agreement between them that I could not translate. 

“Ax… can I call you Ax?” 

My hearts clenched. I was glad thought-speech could not shake with emotion the way human speech could. <Most humans do. Although, if you call me Ax-Man, I will be forced to injure you.>  

Grace winced. A hint of fear appeared in his eyes, though it didn't last long. 

<That was a joke,> I clarified. 

“Yeah, sarcasm doesn't really carry over in thought-speech,” Grace noted. “So… these friends of yours, who are they?” 

<We call ourselves the Animorphs. My brother Elfangor gave five humans the Andalite morphing technology. They are the only thing standing between humanity and the Yeerk invasion, at least until my people arrive.>

Anticipating his next question, I projected a few images through thought-speech. Elfangor was better at visual thought-speech than I was, but it was the most efficient way I could think of to communicate the situation, and I preferred not to waste my time. Time passed strangely in a Sario Rip. 

Grace clutched at his head as if the images had struck him with a physical force. 

“Brain-controlling slugs are taking over Earth… and a bunch of children are trying to stop them? Where the hell are the adults?” 

Rocky trilled in alarm. “Bad bad bad.” 

<So you see why I must return.> 

Grace was trembling now. He was angry, or possibly sad. He forced himself to take deep breaths. The human nervous system is very closely tied to breath, I have noticed. He didn't stop trembling, but he looked calmer. He put his glasses back on. “For what it's worth, kid, you have at least two grown-ups on your side now.”

Rocky nodded. “Rocky find Adrian at work. Three adults. Rocky ask other friends, question?” 

“Let’s come up with a plan before we start involving all of Erid,” Grace said with a laugh that didn’t sound like it came from a place of humor. Sometimes humans laugh when something is the opposite of funny. I have yet to understand why. 

Then Grace clapped his hands, causing my ears to flick involuntarily. He stood and pulled out a whiteboard, wiping it clean. I glimpsed some clearly-wrong formulas about orbital physics before the board was blank again, except for the words Sario Rip. 

Grace wrote down what he knew, as if he did not possess the ability to keep track of it in his own mind. “A rift in space-time. Caused by explosions… somehow. Can transport people backwards or forwards in time. Most likely to other timelines.” He paused, making another humorless laugh. “I think in the age of the Internet we would have known about the Yeerks.” 

Then he gasped, standing up and yanking on his hair, and I wondered if he had suffered brain damage in the intervening seconds. “This… this handily proves the multiverse theory!” 

Rocky stood straight up on the tips of his claws, humming with excitement. “Amaze, amaze!” 

I had the feeling I should have been excited by this prospect as well. I was not. I did not have time to be. <What does this mean for my probability of returning to my Earth?> 

Since when had it been “my” Earth? 

I dismissed the prickle of alarm. It was merely a useful shorthand to distinguish two different timelines, nothing more. 

“Well…” Grace tapped the marker against his teeth in thought. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Sario Rips?” 

<i> I know that the explosion has to be energetically potent and precise. And from observation, I have gathered that once someone or something is displaced, if they interact with another Sario Rip, they are returned to their original timeline, just before the Rip. That is all I know. </i> I thought it wise not to tell a human teacher that I had slept through that particular unit of instruction. 

Grace relayed this to Rocky. Rocky trilled, then grabbed a rubber band from a nearby table. He stretched it between his claws. “Like elastic, question?” 

Grace started pacing the length of the lab. “Yes, possibly,” he agreed. “Though, it’s a little more complicated than that. Ax, how much does your species know about quantum mechanics?” 

<Enough that to attempt to explain it to a human would be a futile effort. Rocky’s comparison is as close to correct as a species with limited understanding can arrive.>  

“Alright. Wow. We’re circling back to that later.” Grace’s eyes danced with his racing thoughts. “In the meantime, you said we need an explosion. It looks like whatever blew up your engines is what caused the Rip.” 

<That is my theory as well. The Bug Fighter I stole seems to have been abandoned for a reason.> 

Grace blinked, then pressed his fingertips together. He looked like he was about to say something before he reconsidered. “What can you tell me about how this ship works? How is it powered? Do you know what went wrong? Wait…” he sat down, groaning. “Most of this will go over my head. Rocky’s the engineer.” 

“Correct,” Rocky confirmed. “Grace very very very smart science human. Grace know a lot about engineering. Rocky and Eridian plural know more.” 

<And Rocky can’t hear my thought-speak,> I realized. <You would have to explain it to him, and some things would be lost in translation.>  

“Yep.” Grace leaned back in his chair, studying the ceiling as if it had answers. “Can you read and write?” 

<I have become fluent in English spelling and grammar during my time on Earth.> 

“Excellent.” He pulled out a fresh notebook and pencil and set them on an unoccupied table, pushing some instruments and sample racks out of the way. “Rocky may not have eyes, but he has his own version of a screen reader. If you write it, he can hear it, in a way.” 

<This will be laborious,> I warned. 

Grace winced. “Yeah. Sorry. Trying my best.” 

<I understand. I am simply stating facts.> 

“You’re complaining about homework.” Grace smiled warmly. “I get it.” 

<I do not complain. I do what is required of me.> 

“Alright, if you say so.” He stood, stretching his back, making a concerning cracking sound. The human spine is alarmingly inefficient. “Are you gonna need food? Water? Caffeine, or whatever your equivalent is?” 

<Caffeine does not affect me, and the stimulant plant that does is native to my home world. I would appreciate water. I would also appreciate any plant matter you can provide. I eat multiple small meals throughout the day and often eat while working.> 

Grace nodded. “Got it. Bowl of water, and a salad. I’ll be back in a few. You and Rocky gonna be okay in the same room together?” 

“Rocky no bite,” Rocky promised. “Meat from oxygen breathers poisonous to Eridians.” 

<That is not much of a comfort,> I said, but of course, Rocky did not hear me. 

What Andalite hands lack in strength, they make up for in dexterity. Suddenly, I appreciated my drill instructor who forced the class to sketch schematics until we could memorize them. I was easily able to fall back on that training even as my skin prickled at the closeness of the Eridian. 

Rocky aimed a crystalline device over my shoulder. It looked vaguely like a Dracon beam, but it emitted no projectile or beam. It was merely a scanner. It still looked enough like a weapon to make my tail twitch. 

<Bug Fighters run on-> I stopped myself, huffing in frustration, and wrote down what I wanted to project. In human morph, when unable to speak, I felt a painful tension in my jaw and tongue muscles. In my Andalite body, it manifested as a tension in the muscles around my skull. My ears and stalk eyes strained as if that would help. 

Their propulsion system was stolen from ours and poorly retrofitted. I did not know the exact mechanics of it, but I knew it used matter-antimatter interactions to enter Z-space and a fusion reactor to travel at sub-light speeds, and that those two things were to never interact because the explosion would be disproportionately massive. Evidently, the multiple barrier failsafes between these two engine systems had broken down. 

Rocky suddenly shuffled his feet in a rhythmic way that could have been dancing. He raised one claw the way a human would to ask for patience, then reached into his tool belt and pulled out a spool of wire. It was the same material he had used to construct his exosuit and Grace’s biodome, as well as the mini-biodome on Grace’s vehicle. And now he was shaping it as easily as copper wire, forming shapes faster than I thought possible. 

When he was finished, he had created a scale model of what looked like a human spaceship, but the design was much more advanced than what humans were currently capable of. He tapped the engines, then rushed over to one of the tables and pulled out a petri dish. Carrying it carefully, he brought it back over to show me. 

“Grace Rocky ship use Astrophage for travel. More efficient than fusion. Fast fast fast. Almost light speed.” 

<More efficient? Wait- how? And isn’t this dangerous?> Stifling a huff of frustration, I wrote down my question. 

“Grace answer better. But Ax have fuel for trip home.” 

I wrote down, <i> Having sub-light travel would help, but first I need to return to my own timeline. Can Astrophage help with this? </i> 

“Astrophage convert energy to mass then to Petrova light. Infrared. Much energy, large explosion.” Then he paused, almost stuttering. “Grace will not like. Grace very very will not like. Need other plan.” 

I nodded again. The way Rocky stuttered suggested Grace’s dislike was not just for practical safety reasons. I decided not to pry, not when both strangers were so willing to help me. 

Grace knocked on the door, then opened it, carrying a bowl of water and a plate of what was probably supposed to be salad but looked like lawn clippings. I appreciated the effort either way. It was all the same to me. When he set the dishes down, I placed my hoof in the water to drink. 

“So what have you two been working on?” Grace asked, peering at my notebook. 

“Astrophage explosion,” Rocky said, tapping his claws together timidly. 

“Nope,” Grace said immediately, a little too chipper. “Anything else?” 

<That is as far as we have gotten. Rocky said you would not like this plan.> 

“Yeah, it’s…” He let out a long breath. “I know you need an explosion, but an Astrophage blast is… very hard to control. Or survive.” 

I wanted to ask. I did not. 

Grace sat in a desk chair and spun slowly. “I’m glad you two are getting along,” he said, deliberately changing the subject. 

<Not being able to use thought-speech is frustrating,> I admitted. <As is Rocky’s limited translator. Rocky used models to explain. It was… efficient.> 

When Grace had finished relaying, Rocky proudly held up the tiny ship. Grace chuckled. 

Just then, I had an idea. <Eridians are far more resilient than humans, Andalites, or any of my morphs. Would it be possible for me to acquire Rocky’s DNA? An Eridian might survive the explosion.> 

Grace ran a hand over his face, dislodging his glasses. “You’re asking if you could morph Rocky to ride out the explosion. I get where you’re coming from, but I don’t think even an Eridian could survive a blast strong enough to distort spacetime.” 

Rocky tilted his carapace. “Eridians mostly not organic. Morphing uses touch, question?” 

<i> Yes, </i> I wrote. <i> Acquiring a morph requires touch. </i> I closed my stalk eyes in disappointment. <i> And our atmospheres are incompatible. </i> 

Grace hummed to himself. “I have a few samples of Rocky’s cells, but there’s another problem… Eridians are mostly inorganic. They have some ‘worker cells’ that run maintenance on the body structure, but mostly it’s just… rock, metal, crystal, mercury. Nothing with genetic material.” 

He showed me an incubator with several containers of samples from Rocky, Rocky’s mate Adrian, and a few other Eridians. “Could you possibly do something with these? It might be easier to come up with a survivable atmosphere mixture if I’m only working with a few cells rather than an entire Eridian.” 

I stared at my hands, then at the samples. <I have never tried to acquire a single cell before. A small enough morph would transport my consciousness into Z-space with the rest of my mass, and I do not want to risk only being able to morph a single cell.>

“Hold up now,” Grace said, glasses falling crooked again. “I’ve been wondering about the conservation of mass of it all. You’re saying it just gets… sucked into whatever this Z-space is? How does it ‘remember’ to come back?” He slapped his forehead. “Focus. Alright. So morphing a single cell is sketchy and fundamentally useless. And you can’t extrapolate a morph out from a single cell, either?” 

“Frustrate,” Rocky grumbled. “Explain. What Ax saying, question?” 

Grace paused to summarize the conversation. Rocky flailed, just as astonished as Grace was about the excess mass going to Z-space. But where else would it go? Were they assuming it just vanished? 

Rocky hummed to himself, then made a model of his carapace with a few scraps of xenonite in it. He shook the model, rattling the xenonite beads inside. “Human cells attached. Eridian cells not. Acquiring only work on attached cells, question?” 

<Probably. An Andalite scientist tried to morph a colony of amoeba. He could only morph one. He got stranded in Z-space and hit by a passing ship. This is a cautionary tale for Andalite schoolchildren.> 

Grace relayed this reluctantly. 

Rocky shook his carapace. “Scary.” 

I studied Rocky for a long while. He wasn’t a robot. He moved too naturally and with too much variation to be made by another sentient being. He clearly had a mind, one sharp enough to reverse-engineer a power converter and create models to explain difficult concepts. But I couldn’t thought-speak to him, couldn’t acquire him, because he wasn’t organic enough for that. 

<Scary,> I agreed. Only Grace could hear me, and his brow creased in sympathy. 

Adrian came home at some point, and I was not prepared for just how big Eridians could get. They were a bit taller than me, even accounting for my eyestalks, with a more craggy, mountainous appearance than Rocky. Their shimmering green carapace matched the inclusions in Rocky’s, and Adrian had some spots of brown in their limbs. Had they exchanged carapace fragments when they became mates? 

Rocky pressed against her with a happy trill, explaining the situation in rapid Eridian. Grace added a few words of his own even though the translator was out of range. It occurred to me that he had been here long enough to become fluent in Eridian. And then it occurred to me that even if I understood Rocky’s language without the translator, we would still not be able to speak without an intermediary unless I morphed human or something else that communicated with sound. 

It was not only frustrating because of the time wasted writing out my thoughts. I was also frustrated that our tools were as rudimentary as they were, because I knew Rocky possessed great intelligence and he knew I did as well. It would be enriching to be able to speak freely. But learning a new language was more time-consuming than I ever thought possible. It gave me a new appreciation for thought-speech’s innate ability to auto-translate. 

Rocky was terrifying on a level that went beyond pure thought, and yet I desperately wanted to talk to him. I had thought such a split motivation was only possible in human minds.

From what I could tell, Adrian had a more mellow personality than their mate, but they were much more physically affectionate with strangers. They spread out their front legs, and Grace informed me that they were asking for a hug. When I shook my head, they lowered their legs and dipped their carapace respectfully, humming a resonant, soothing tone. 

Grace brought over the translator and set it on a nearby table. “Right. We have work to do. Ax’s ship wasn’t made to withstand this kind of atmosphere. We need to bring it in and start repairs right away.” 

Before I could react, Rocky had launched himself at Grace, who gasped as he was pushed into the overstuffed chair behind him. “Rocky Adrian fix. How long since last sleep?” 

“Not that long,” Grace grumbled, voice muffled by Rocky’s smothering embrace. 

“Need numbers.” 

“Sixteen hours,” Grace admitted. 

“<Go to sleep.>” I realized belatedly that I had joined in the chorus, my thought-speech joining Rocky’s and Adrian’s. 

Grace let his head fall back. “Okay, okay. Pushy, pushy.” 

I picked up the notebook where I had sketched the schematics. <While Grace is asleep, let’s get started.> Grace mumbled my response to the Eridians, laughing to himself. 

Rocky jabbed a claw in my direction. “Ax sleep too. Ax is pebble. Need more sleep.” 

Adrian nodded. “Ax small small pebble.” 

<I am an Andalite soldier.> 

Grace relayed that with a strange tone in his voice, somehow both amused and sad.

“And pebble too,” Adrian said slowly, with exaggerated patience. “Need sleep for journey.” 

I hated to admit they had a point. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d slept. 

“Rocky watch. Adrian and friends move ship.” 

<You really don’t need to watch me.> 

“It’s an Eridian culture thing,” Grace said, eyes already closed. “Non-negotiable. They’re very vulnerable when they sleep, so they never sleep alone.” 

And I was not going to get any sleep as long as an Eridian was in the room. 

I could not think of a counterargument, and the biodome’s artificial sun was setting, so I settled down on a nest of blankets in the corner of the living room and observed. 

Grace pulled out a sleep mat and a large quilt, laying on his side on the floor. Rocky curled up against his chest as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Adrian stroked Grace’s hair and Rocky’s carapace, reached for me, then withdrew, waving goodbye. 

Rocky made a low, droning sound, then pulled a knotted mess of yarn out of one of his many pockets. He seemed focused on untangling it, though one arm also reached over and pulled the blanket over Grace’s shoulder. Grace made a contented noise. 

I wrapped my tail tightly around myself and looked away, not even turning a single stalk eye toward the pair. The display in front of me was… excessive. 

The room felt strangely cold. 

Were my friends okay? Were they looking for me? Had time passed at all for them? 

Tobias spent a lot of time at my scoop, educating me on human entertainment from his perch on my back. I believed he also used this education as an excuse to catch up on his shows. I did not mind. The feeling of talons and a heavy, warm weight settling against my back made me feel less exposed. 

Sometimes Marco joined him, resting his back against my flank. It felt like I was part of a herd again, in those moments. 

I was not sure why my mind brought me back there. The thoughts hurt. They destroyed my focus. 

I woke to the smell of another bowl of fresh-cut greens. Grace was crouched to my eye level, with Rocky and Adrian peering over each shoulder. “Morning,” he greeted. “I hope you slept okay.” 

<My sleep was adequate.> I felt a twinge of hunger, but I knew Grace would want to study my eating habits and I was not yet conscious enough to tolerate such scrutiny. <Do you and Rocky always sleep so close together?> 

Grace shrugged. “Not always. Sometimes Adrian joins in. Sometimes Rocky and Adrian want to be alone together. Sometimes Adrian wants to be with me. Depends on the night. But usually we're never alone for too long.” 

<The other Animorphs and I are also rarely alone for long. Even if we sleep in separate places, we often spend our waking hours together. It is unusual and disconcerting for me to spend this much time by myself.> 

Grace looked saddened by this. He lifted a hand, watching my reaction. When I did not object, he placed his hand on my shoulder. It was solid and slightly cool. I felt some tension leave me that I hadn't realized I had been carrying. 

“We'll get you back,” he promised. “Adrian and I came up with some plans. They're risky, but if you're right about Sario Rips, they might work. And none of them involve Astrophage. So that's a bonus.” His voice sounded tight, as if there was more he wanted to say. I waited, but he just withdrew his hand a bit reluctantly. “I need to go over some stuff with Rocky. When you're ready, we'll see how the ship's coming along.” 

When he left, I ate the greens. The texture was agreeable. They felt fresh. Some more tension left me. Going home felt a little bit more possible. It is surprising how much a meal can change someone's mental state. 

I entered the kitchen to put away my bowl and lingered in the doorway. I could not understand Rocky's side of the conversation, of course, but I could gather the nature of the topic from Grace's remarks. 

“I know. I agree. But he also can't stay here. He has people looking for him. It's not like my situation. But…” he interrupted himself with a heavy sigh. “We'd be sending him back into a warzone. So I get where you're coming from.” 

Rocky's response was mournful. It was fascinating how quickly I could discern emotional cues from Rocky's speech even though I still did not understand a word of Eridian. I supposed that was an inherent trait in musical languages. 

“Well, I've been thinking… don't take this idea too seriously.” 

Rocky let out a dry chirp. 

“Ha ha.” Grace mimicked the sound of a laugh without actually laughing. This is a form of human sarcasm. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. So… part of me wants us to go with him. If he’ll allow it.” 

Rocky was silent for a moment, then turned his carapace to face me, waving a claw. 

Quickly, I set the bowl on the counter and straightened my spine. <I was not eavesdropping. I merely did not want to interrupt.> 

Grace smiled kindly, moved to offer up a seat, then realized that, given my anatomy, the gesture would be moot. He shook his head as if scolding himself. “You’re fine. You should probably be part of this conversation anyway.” 

<Are you genuinely offering to accompany me?> Grace was a brilliant scientist, already experienced with aliens. He would be one of our strongest allies, and I had the feeling he would be a strong morpher even if he never fought on the frontlines. Rocky and Adrian, although unable to morph, were nigh-indestructible and immune to Yeerk infestation. If any three allies could turn the tides, it would be them. 

“It was only a half-formed thought,” Grace cautioned. “I don’t want to leave you and your friends alone to fight an entire alien invasion. What you’ve done so far is… astonishing. Really. But none of that should have been on your shoulders.” 

He stared into the mug of coffee on the table beside him. He seemed to be looking at his own reflection. “I know what it’s like. Did I tell you that I was drafted into the mission?” 

<You did not.> 

Grace sighed. “I was. And I was terrified. I ran for my life. Had to be tackled and drugged. And I was already an adult when that choice was put on me. It’s not something I’d wish on anyone, especially someone so young.” 

Rocky made a low purring sound as if to comfort Grace, patting his knee with one claw. With another claw, he pulled the translator out of its pocket on his utility belt and powered it on. 

Finally, Rocky said, “Rocky Adrian Grace help however possible.” 

If I asked, they would probably come. We needed help. But the thought of taking them away from a life they had worked so hard to build felt like a thorn in my hoof. 

<I appreciate the offer,> I said, <but you are an older human with many apparent physical maladies. No offense intended.> 

Grace laughed. “Sheesh, now I can say I’ve been called an old fart by three different species.”

I did not much like this human expression. I ignored it. 

<The Yeerks are merciless. Your knowledge would be very valuable to them. You would be targeted as a potential Controller, and Rocky and Adrian would be targeted and interrogated. Eridians are durable, but Visser Three is very creative.> 

A tremor seized Grace. He adjusted his glasses unnecessarily, breaking eye contact. When he relayed my message to Rocky, the words caught in his throat in a way that made me regret forcing him to say them out loud. 

Rocky was more still than I’d ever seen him. It made my legs lock into place. When he continued not to say anything, Grace spoke again. “I’ll admit, that scares the hell out of me. It took a lot for me to get to where we are now, and I’m not sure how much fight I have left in me. But I’m willing to try if Rocky and Adrian are on board.” 

Rocky stood straight, then, arching his hind leg like an Andalite tail blade. The resemblance made my own tail blade instinctively rise, though I kept it lower than my shoulders to indicate I was not truly looking for a fight. 

Rocky’s voice was like gravel. “No. No, no, no. Pebble class need Grace. Erid need Grace. Rocky Adrian need Grace. Grace no die.” 

Grace sighed. “And Erid needs Rocky and Adrian, too. Who’s gonna maintain the Taumoeba farms and human technology?” 

I found myself agreeing, even though a foalish instinct compelled me to ask them to come. I kept that voice tightly locked away. <You have already fought your war. You have earned your rest. I cannot ask you to give that up to fight a war that is not even a part of your reality. That would be dishonorable and… cruel.> 

Grace looked as pained as I felt. He began crying silently. He turned his face away self-consciously, but I could not bring myself to judge him. Andalites do not cry easily, but I felt my throat tighten. 

“You’re a good kid, Ax,” Grace managed to say, though his voice rasped. He looked back at me, wiping stray tears from his face. 

<By the standards of my species, I am below average.> 

Grace tried to smile, but he couldn’t. “Well, I’ve only taught two species before, but I think some things are universal. Hold onto that, okay?” 

I was not sure how to respond, so I gave a small nod. Grace summarized our conversation for Rocky’s benefit. Rocky’s limbs drooped sadly, but he nodded as well. 

Grace stood, then, and picked up a cane leaning against the wall. “Slept on the floor,” he explained. “Shouldn’t have done that. Hips don’t lie.” He laughed weakly at his own joke, then led the way outside to where the Bug Fighter had been towed into the biodome. 

It was scarred with ammonia burns, but the mangled engines had been replaced by elegant xenonite thrusters. I saw a new mechanism inside that Rocky called “spin drives,” Astrophage-powered propulsion. I had enough Astrophage for a short sub-light journey if needed, but most of the fuel space was designated for the fusion material that would allow me to make the jump to Z-space. 

Adrian and two other Eridians I did not know stood by proudly. I saluted them with a fist to my chest and a lowering of my eye stalks. They mimicked me, bowing slightly. 

<Tell them their work is beyond my expectations,> I said to Grace. He relayed my message, and the Eridians whooped. One stepped forward, reaching out as if to touch me, but Adrian held them back with a warning rumble. 

Grace then handed me a metal box. “This box is Eridian steel,” he explained. “It contains a breeding colony of Taumoeba, just in case it’s needed in the future. Keep an eye on the sun’s brightness. Also, Rocky included a xenonite fabricator and some of the raw materials. Maybe you or one of your smart friends can figure out how to reverse-engineer the technology. At the very least, it makes great shield material. Just… don’t let it come in contact with Taumoeba.” 

Rocky shivered. “Do not,” he echoed firmly. 

As soon as I had placed the box inside the airlock, Adrian stepped up, handing me a canvas bag. I looked inside, and it was filled with fresh vegetables. 

“Eat lots,” Adrian said. “Pebbles need much food.” 

<I am not a-> I stopped myself, closing the bag and placing it carefully in the airlock next to the box. I turned back to Adrian. <Thank you.> 

One of my legs shifted towards the airlock, trembling with the urgent need to return to my friends. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was forgetting something. 

My next exhale shook. When I held out my arms, I noticed that they were shaking, too. 

Adrian stepped closer, hesitating. When I looked directly at them and did not flinch, they cooed. Rocky and Grace moved closer as well, and I let my arms encircle them. 

The Eridians hugged with bruising strength, but for reasons I am not entirely sure of, I did not want to end the embrace. It seemed that they did not, either. They might have been waiting for a signal from me. 

I held on for as long as I dared, but I knew if I stayed much longer, I would start to hesitate. Hesitation was dangerous. I let my arms fall away and ignored the pang that went through my chest. <I cannot thank you enough. I will speak well of you to my people when they arrive.> 

I backed up until I was in the airlock, waving to Grace and the Eridians. They waved back. 

Just before the airlock closed, Grace snapped his hand to his forehead in a salute. He pressed his lips tight together and a tear leaked from the corner of his eye. I pressed a fist to my chest in return, keeping all four eyes on him until the airlock slid closed. 

I engaged the thrusters and ducked into a supply closet, hoping the enclosed space would minimize injury in the event of turbulence. The engines whined as they redlined, then a brilliant flash engulfed my vision. 

<Ax-man! What the hell happened? Was your ‘brilliant plan’ to give us all heart attacks?> 

I had never been so happy to be called Ax-man in my entire life. 

The smell of burning hair reached Grace’s nose. He brought a hand up to his eyebrows. One was singed completely off, even through the xenonite blast shield. A twinge of concern twisted his heart as he thought of Ax being in point-blank range of all that heat. 

Rocky, as always, sensed a subtle shift in Grace’s vitals despite Grace’s efforts to compose himself. “If plan no work, ship in pieces. Ship just disappear. Plan work.” 

The tension left Grace so fast that he sank to his knees, Rocky bracing him so he didn’t fall. 

Tears spattered the sand. Grace dug his fingers into the coarse grins, lungs stuttering and gasping painfully as the dam finally burst. He sat back, wiping his eyes, staring at the glassed-over patch of sand where the Bug Fighter had been only moments before. 

Was this how Stratt felt, when she sent him to space? Did she cry? She herself would deny it, but Grace was less sure of her coldness now. 

He’d given Ax what Grace himself never had. Time to prepare. A good meal. A friendly touch. A goodbye that was exactly as long as he wanted it to be. 

He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. He was still sending a child into war. 

Grace drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, breathing deeply while Rocky rubbed his back and Adrian pressed against his side. 

He’d always tried to be a safe landing place for every student in his class. He was often the one they confided in when things were bad at home. And it killed him when the final bell rang and he knew they would be returning to the fray.

All he could do was add as much good to their lives as possible and hope it was enough.