An Animorphs AU, just because. The idea hit me and I rolled with it.
The black hole looms on every side, swallowing the horizon. Elfangor presses cold-numb fingertips against the Time Matrix. Lorenâs floating beside him, the thing inside Alloran watching them both with terrible intent. He thinks get me out of here. Thinks I want to go home. His last thought, before consciousness closes away from him in a black void, is of his family. His scoop.  A wish flower.  A hologram.  Hope.
A being like nothing Elfangor has ever imagined sees the andalite aristh. It sees inside his mind.
Elfangor comes awake on the med table of an andalite fighter. Not what he had expected, or intended.  Thereâs no sign of the humans, or of Alloran. Instead, three andalite warriors stand over him.
«Vitals are normal. Heartbeats are synchronized, but elevated,» the female warrior says. She has a kit of medical supplies slung over her shoulder, and sheâs watching Elfangor with the kind of naked curiosity that directs all four of her eyes his way.
«Thank you,» the captain says. «Thatâll be all for now.  Iâll let you know if anything changes.»
Thereâs no doubt that heâs the captain. Nor that the other male warrior is the Tactical Officer. Itâs clear from the way that the medic salutes with her tail blade as she walks out the door, and from the slight tilt that the T.O. gives in return.
Thatâs all Elfangor knows. How he got here... Where here is...
«Please identify yourself,» the T.O. says. The use of please doesnât disguise the sharpness of his tone.
«Aristh Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul,» Elfangor says. «Formerly of the StarSword, although my most recent posting was aboard the Jahar. Sir, where are the aliens who were with me?»
The captain and the T.O. exchange a glance, just a single stalk eye each. «What was the nature of this mission, Pâ Aristh Elfangor?» the T.O. asks.
Thereâs something theyâre not telling him. Itâs obvious thereâs an entire conversation happening in thought-speak right now, one to which he is not privy.
«We found two aliens that had been kidnapped by skrit na,» Elfangor says, because he canât exactly refuse an officerâs direct request. «Arbron â my fellow aristh â and I were supposed to help Prince Alloran return the aliens to their home planet.»
«Then the Time Matrix was on Earth when you found it?» the captain asks.
Elfangor freezes. He didnât mention the name of the planet the aliens had come from, and he definitely didnât mention the Time Matrix.
Several other details hit all at once. The captain â if he even is a captain â looks barely older than Elfangor himself. The T.O.âs posture is too close, too casual, and the captain is allowing it.  Neither one of them has introduced himself yet.
Elfangor has been trusting the captain automatically so far because â he loathes admitting it â because the captain has the same accent as Elfangorâs hometown and the same cowlick in his fur as Elfangorâs own mother, and Elfangor is so desperately homesick that he seized upon these hints of familiarity without ever thinking about why.
«Just answer the question,» the T.O. says. The captain places a gentle hand on the T.O.âs arm.
«Sir. I...» Elfangor rolls to stand, taking several steps away. He salutes with his tail blade by way of apology, and then quickly drops it in submission. His hearts are pounding.  He could be anywhere.  Anywhere. «The humans who were with me...»
«Theyâre both safe on Earth,» the captain says. «As is Alloran.»
Elfangorâs main eyes shut in shame. «Sir.  Thereâs something you should know about Prince Alloran.»
Again, the captain and the T.O. exchange a glance, definitely whispering to each other in thought-speak. «Yes?» the captain says at last.
«I failed my prince,» Elfangor says, opening his eyes, «and I failed my entire people. Alloran has been infested by a yeerk called Esplin nine-four-six-six.»
«Oh, good,» the captain says. «We were hoping youâd say that.»
Elfangor has jumped back, clear across the room and crouched with his tail blade snapping at the ready, faster than conscious thought. Heâd thought that Alloranâs paranoid mutterings about traitor andalites were just that, but nowâ
«Hey, hey, sorry, thereâs no need for that.» The captain holds up both hands in placation, a strangely humanlike gesture. «Itâs cool, Elfangor, itâs all cool.»  Now he even sounds like a human.  «I only meant that weâre glad you told us. It means we can trust you.»
The captain takes a step forward. Elfangor tenses to strike, and he stops moving.
«When I said Alloranâs safe, I meant that heâs no longer a controller,» the captain says. «The yeerk inside him has been neutralized.»
«Who are you?» Elfangor demands, not lowering his tail. «How do you know all this?»
Again, the captain and T.O. look at each other.
«Stop doing that!» Elfangor snaps, too overwhelmed to care about etiquette anymore.
«We were just deciding whether it would distress you less, or more, if we were to answer your question,» the T.O. says. «And also debating the merits of calling Prince Estrid back in here so that she can sedate you for your own well-being.»
«Menderash is telling the truth,» the captain says. «You taught me everything I know about tail-fighting, and half the Academy besides. So if you chose to fight your way out of here, I doubt either one of us would be able to stop you.»
«What...» Elfangor feels his tail lower slightly from sheer confusion. «What...»
«Youâre on board the Dome ship Intrepid,» the captain says. «Twenty-three standard years have passed since the mission you just described. Our Tactical Officer is Prince Menderash-Postill-Fastill. My name is Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.»
Menderash leaves them alone. Before he does, he presses the palm of his hand very briefly against Aximiliâs cheek, an andalite kiss between lovers. Elfangor gets his third or fourth shock of the past five minutes.  Normally a warrior, even the significant other of a captain, wouldnât dare to show affection so openly.
Aximili registers him staring, of course, and tenses.
«Youâre... not like other captains,» Elfangor comments awkwardly.
That gets Aximili to smile, eyes crinkling in a way that strengthens the resemblance to their mother. «I served under two war-princes, both of whom taught me well.  One was considered wildly unconventional by andalite standards.» He tilts a stalk at Elfangor.  «The other one wasnât an andalite at all.»
Elfangor blinks. «Things really have changed while I was gone.»
«Not that much, it would seem. Prince Jake is...»  Ax makes a see-saw gesture with one hand, still strangely human in his mannerisms. «The War Council does not officially recognize his position.  Any warrior who has ever seen him lead tends to hold a different opinion. Alloran himself risked a challenge against a superior officer on Prince Jakeâs behalf.»
«Alloran.» Elfangorâs head is going to fall clean off if things get any more confusing. «Challenged an officer. For an alien.»
«In a way, itâs all your fault.» Aximiliâs smile turns fond.  «Youâre the one who gave Prince Jake â and four other humans â the ability to morph.»
«The yeerks were on Earth,» Aximili says simply.
And yes, that really does explain it all.
«The Electorate officials were angry at first,» he continues. «But you did so much good for the war effort, it wasnât long before they were putting up statues and naming Dome ships in your honor.»
Elfangor laughs, but stops abruptly. «Iâm dead, then.»  They donât name Dome ships after living warriors.
Aximili goes still, realizing his error too late. «Not before ensuring victory over the yeerks,» he says at last. «You died honorably, doing battle to your lastâ»
A shudder wracks Elfangorâs body. Of course thereâs no escaping the war. Of course not.  Of course theyâll make him fight and keep fighting, down to the very last heartbeat. No end point.  No reprieve.  No other way.  Just a killer.  Just a tail blade and a trigger finger, and nothing in between.
Even after death, they wouldnât let him be. Named their war machines after him.  Taught their children to kill and die in his name.
«Iâd like to be alone, if thatâs all right,» he says.
Aximili nods. He salutes briefly â one war-prince to another, this time â and leaves.
The next time they talk, there are a million questions. Elfangor doesnât know how he got here, or why he showed up without the Time Matrix. Aximili canât explain anything Elfangor saw before losing consciousness, but he does have more firsthand experience with time travel than Elfangor himself. Haltingly, in fits and tangents, Aximili does his best to catch Elfangor up on everything that has happened in the years he missed.  Some of it makes no sense â Elfangor was a nothlit, and then he wasnât â and some of it, like Arbronâs rebellion against the Yeerk Empire, fits perfectly.
Aximili gives Elfangor the free run of the Intrepid, and finds him a spare room to get him out of the med bay. Warriors salute as they pass and call him âPrince Elfangor,â or âsir.â The official story as recorded in the shipâs log is that heâs a castaway aristh rescued from a damaged fighter. But the other warriors figured out Elfangorâs identity the moment he appeared unconscious in the middle of their dome, and now gossip follows him everywhere: heâs a war-prince.  A relic.  Most importantly: heâs Aximiliâs little brother. Yeah, the Aximili.
«Am I a prince?» he asks Menderash once, in a moment of weakness.
Menderash has been teaching Elfangor how to pilot. Ten years ago, Menderash learned how to pilot by watching Elfangor. They both try not to think about this too hard.
«Why would you ever think that you are not?» Menderash says, and then, «Eyes, Prince Elfangor.»
Elfangor sighs. He has once again allowed his eyes to drift away from their proper position â one on the altitude, one on the engine lights, two on the viewscreen â to look down at his hands on the controls. «I barely have any flight experience, for one,» he says.  «And the person who killed all those yeerks, won all those battles... Heâs not me.  Not yet, and now not ever. I think not, anyway.»
Menderash considers. «Youâre asking if our experiences make us who we are, or if we are born the way we will always be.»
«I have no idea,» he says immediately, «but if you donât stop accelerating into every takeoff like youâre being chased, then I will throw you out of the airlock.»
Elfangor flushes. «Are you this mean to Aximili?»
«You mean when weâre alone together?»
And now Elfangor is flushing even more, half-hoping the floor will open and swallow him.
Menderash laughs. «If I am, then I suppose youâll have to throw me out of the airlock.»
«Iâm a powerful war-prince, I guess.» Elfangor dares to glance over at him.  «So you had better treat him right.»
«Eyes, Prince Elfangor.» Menderash is still smiling, though. «Iâll be sure to keep that in mind.»
There are a lot of long conversations with various authorities. The Andalite War Councilâs official opinion is that Elfangor might be the real deal but that they still refuse to acknowledge his existence, and will consider anyone attempting to use Elfangorâs identity an act of treason. The Electorate defers to the War Councilâs insistence on Elfangorâs death, but the representative they get on the phone asks for Elfangorâs autograph anyway.  The Galactic Union of Sentient Species has entirely too much interest in time travel, and also in pretending that time travel doesnât exist and therefore Elfangor doesnât exist.
«What are they so afraid of?» Elfangor asks Aximili, after their seventh or eighth attempt at contacting a real authority meets a dead end. «I swore I wouldnât tell anyone about the Time Matrix, and I mean it.  If I just said it was a sario rip from the Jaharâs engine exploding, no one would ever have to know.»
Aximili looks Elfangor over, clearly deciding how to explain something he worries Elfangor is too young to understand. «I believe theyâre most afraid of you being yourself,» he says at last.
«You are a person,» Aximili says. «You love human rock music.  You have more tells than a ten-day aristh when you tail-fight, and nevertheless manage to win every fight in spite of, or perhaps because of, your unconventional technique. You almost whacked your own stalks on a low branch yesterday while feeding in the dome.  You fell in love with a human.  You snore.»  He looks out the viewscreen, sighing.  «Elfangor... War-Prince Elfangor... is a legend. A Dome ship.  An inspiration.  A statue in our shipyard.  Prince Elfangor isnât clumsy, or nerdy, or anything.  Because heâs not really a person at all.»
Elfangor digests that for several minutes, staring out at the stars. He thinks heâs a little afraid of this legend.  That heâs afraid of the implications, if the legend really was just a guy like him.
Elfangor doesnât ask what are you going to do with me. Doesnât tell Aximili I want to go home. Aximili knows, and he canât do anything about it. He has an entire ship to run, and almost a hundred warriors to look out for. Babysitting an aristh is no job for a captain, especially not one on perhaps the most dangerous mission left to the entire Andalite Navy. Theyâre hunting an entire shipâs worth of morph-capable controllers, dodging norshk pirates, skirting the hairy edge of kelbrid space.  The other warriors on the ship, even Aximili, seem to consider the whole thing a grand adventure, and everyone seems to expect that Elfangor will want a piece of the action. Elfangor wants to be done with the war.  It already killed him once, destroyed his life a dozen times; he wants nothing to do with chasing the last of its ragged edges.
Almost a week later, Aximili drops a call invite to Elfangorâs quarters. Itâs a z-space comm link between the Intrepid and a distant planet.
Elfangor feels a chill of unease when the link lights up. One holo shows Aximili, but the other shows a male human with dirty-blond hair and soft grey eyes.
He doesnât need the identifier at the bottom of the screen.  He knows who Tobias is, and Tobias knows him. They stare at each other, at a loss.
«Why donât you explain what you were telling me,» Ax says at last, breaking the moment.
âOh yeah, funny story.â Tobias shifts, shoulders hunching. Birdlike.  âPrince Elfangorâs still legally dead. But Alan Fangor, Yale graduate, former Microsoft programmer, resident of the state of California? We looked into it, and that guyâs still got a Social Security number, a bank account, and a slightly-expired driverâs license. He owes some back taxes, but we could handle that.â
Elfangor looks at him and Aximili both. «Youâre suggesting...?»
âOnly if you want to,â Tobias says quickly. âAnd only for as long as you want.  And obviously thereâs no reason you would want to. It was just a suggestion.â
I want, Elfangor thinks, to be anywhere â anywhere at all â that isnât a sunsforsaken battleship.
He looks at Aximili. «How far are we from Earth?»
In the shuttle on the way down to the planet, Elfangor thinks he can see some of his own bad influence. Aximiliâs piloting technique is atrocious â he looks at the controls, ignores warning parameters, uses incorrect commands â and yet the inter-atmosphere transition and eventual landing are some of the smoothest Elfangor has ever experienced. Aximili is talented, even more so for being halfway self-taught.
There are over a dozen humans standing on the landing pad when the ship sets down in the courtyard of the military base, but two step forward from the crowd. Up close, Tobias looks to be about Elfangorâs own age in human years.  The woman beside him is familiar and yet not, wearing the middle-aged version of Lorenâs features. Elfangor feels his knees lock, and almost stumbles in the doorway.  Heâs not sure he can do this.
âAx-Man!â Tobias says. âOnly gonna be gone for six of our months, huh?â He spreads strong human arms.  âYou havenât forgotten what an Earth month is, have you?â
Aximili steps past Elfangor, rushing to perform a human embrace with Tobias that involves briefly squeezing their arms around each other. «You are at greater risk of such an error than I am, my friend.  You know perfectly well that the delay was unavoidable.»
âWeâll overlook it this time.â Tobias smiles.  âAnyway, welcome to Zone 91, a place that you have definitely never been before under any circumstances.â
«Of course not.» Aximili is smiling as well. «Entering Zone 91 without the proper human authorization would have been illegal, and also ill-advised.»
Shorms, Elfangor thinks, watching them. Heâs surprised by a pang of envy.  Theyâre so clearly family to each other, his son and his brother, and heâs only just met them both.
Lorenâs watching them both from across the way. The longing on her face, he realizes, is just the same.
Thereâs paperwork. A surprising amount. The human authorities are apparently willing to tolerate his existence on Earth, but only after a frustrating amount of documentation. Tobias opts out of all of it, simply disappearing into the sky above during a moment of distraction.
Itâs strange, doubly so, when Elfangor remembers that Tobias is demorphing rather than simply morphing to become a bird. Heâs heard what everyone says about nothlits on the homeworld â and heâd believed it, too.  Believed that Arbron was better off dead than taxxon. And yet Arbron had outlived him by over five years.  Had done more to end the war than Elfangor himself had ever accomplished.
And Tobias is... Not what heâd expected, once heâd gotten over the triple surprise of you have a son â heâs an alien â heâs a nothlit. Tobias acts as ambassador between the hork-bajir and human authorities. Tobias has lives in two worlds â three?  Four?  He has a house in a human city, and a meadow out in the wilds. He becomes an identical copy of Aximili and they race each other across the desert outside, arriving wild and breathless as children while Elfangor and Loren take the far more sedate ride back to civilization in the Army transport Jeep.
For the first time â or maybe the second â Elfangor thinks he can see the appeal in giving up andalite shape forever.
Tobias becomes human again once theyâre dropped off, morphing with the same breathtaking speed that Aximili demonstrates. He leads them through the downtown of a city that has skrit na hawking exotic wares on street corners, gedds shouldering through its crowds, hork-bajir hopping between the roofs of skyscrapers, andalite tourists clustered outside an establishment called Krispy Kreme. Elfangor looks in all directions at once like a tourist himself, startled that such a place could exist.
âAlientown, California,â Loren comments, when she sees him looking. âNot its real name, but thatâs what everyone calls it.â
«We donât have anything like this. Anywhere in the galaxy,» Elfangor says. «Not where â when â I come from.»
âBlame the Animorphs,â she says, raising her eyebrows at where Tobias and Ax push ahead. âAlthough I guess Alloran was pretty instrumental in negotiating the treaties as well.â
Elfangor shakes his head. Heâs never going to stop being surprised, heâs concluded. Heâll just have to get used to a state of perpetual shock, because this is his life now. Or heâd like it to be.
When they reach the house, Tobias barely have time to pull the front door open before two different quadrupedal aliens rush outside. Loren laughs as the larger one rears back and starts licking her face.  Tobias dives to catch the smaller one, scooping it into his arms.  âDude, Dude, weâve talked about this,â Tobias croons, cradling the creature. âYou eat birds, birds eat you, itâs a bad deal all around if you donât stay inside.  Youâre an invasive species, bud.  And also really easy to spot from overhead.â
âDown, Champ.â Loren gently shoves the other animal back onto all four paws. âYou know, I had to have an entire mostly-civil conversation with my skeevy sisterâs even skeevier ex to get you that cat,â she tells Tobias. âAnd this is how you repay me, by teaching my dog bad manners.â
âHeâs retired.â Tobias buries his chin in the catâs fur. âBad manners and lapsed training are his prerogative.â
âSorry,â Loren tells Elfangor, shooing both him and the dog inside. âItâs not normally this...â She shrugs.  âChaotic?â
âSince when?â a different human asks, as they step inside. Sheâs female, if Elfangor reads her hair and clothing correctly, and moves around using a wheeled apparatus with a small motor.
âThis is Kelly,â Loren says. âAnd Erica ââ  A different human waves from the next room over â âAnd Elenaâs visiting her boyfriend last I heard, but sheâll be back soon, and she also has a dog.â
âIâm with Kelly on this one,â Tobias says. âNever not chaotic.â He smiles at Elfangor, still holding the furry cat-thing. âWe didnât mean to start a collection of stray Animorphs and veteran pets, honestly.â
Loren brings Elfangor through to a room that has screened windows on three sides opening onto their backyard, most of the human furniture pushed to one side. âThe roomâs yours for as long as you want,â she tells him.  âWe put Ax out here, but heâs away a lot, so itâs yours.  Everyone else tends to go in and out, so Iâm afraid thereâs not much quiet, but...â She shrugs.  âWelcome.â
Heâs a long way away from the scoop where he grew up. Heâs half-forgotten already what heâd wished for, shaking palms pressed against the most powerful machine in the known galaxy. Heâs in a strange house, a strange city, surrounded by aliens.
«Thank you,» he says, and, «If itâs all right with you, Iâd like to stay.»
