Post by Admin on Sept 23, 2009 17:47:05 GMT -5
Broadcast:
Over and over, the emergency Peace Movement channel played the same images and words on loop, and now it was syndicated across other emergency frequencies—though not any of the major ones. The major ones had all been taken off air by the Yeerk government: in fact, save for a handful of these backwaters channels, news from Dallas had been utterly cut off. Which might have been unnoticeable, for anyone outside of the Dallas region…
…if nearly every Controller in the country hadn’t been alerted, by hologram or word of mouth, about the successful “capture” of an Animorph earlier that day. The sudden, complete silence, as the Dallas broadcasts (and news of the Animorph defeat) dropped off the grid, was almost as ominous as the broadcasts that did manage to squeak through.
Almost.
"This is an emergency broadcast! This is an emergency broadcast from Dallas, Texas! My name is not important, and neither is my rank. What you must know is that events are at work in this city which may doom us all." Despite how cliched and overwrought the words were, it was clear that the woman speaking was past caring about that.
The projector suddenly focused, as it had dozens of times now, tossing up the life-size image of a woman sitting in front of a disheveled desk. "What you are about to be shown-" She began to cough, harshly, and took a long drink of water. "What you are about to be shown are the true events as they have happened in Dallas today."
The projection suddenly swiveled, showing an armored truck with a huge security detail pulling up alongside what appeared to be an office... nearby an impossibly large Yeerk pool. "Earlier today a group of Animorphs attempted a rescue mission for our people -- for several Peace Movement captives -- at the Hive. They were unsuccessful, and the Hive went into lockdown shortly after. There are reports of several Animorph casualties, 100 percent..." she gulped, holding in a sob, "100 percent Peace Movement casualties. An Animorph was captured." There was a pause.
"Alive. An Animorph was taken alive."
The hologram switched to huge audience, as a man walked up to a podium. Two Hork Bajir bounded after him, and one was holding something. Next to him, they began affixing the body--it was certainly a body--to the central podium. They used thin wire, which was bound so tight that it clearly cut into the flesh at places.
But the body in question was long past feeling anything. The head hung at a gross angle, the neck severed at least one-third across. The wound was ugly and deep but relatively bloodless: the bleeding out was good and done. The lips were pale, and no one had seen fit to close the eyes: they stared, dark and empty, across the crowd.
"Another Animorph was slain attempting a rescue. We do not know why she was alone--she may be the last of the Dallas group. She was unsuccessful," the reporter said the last word quietly, as if it was terribly obvious, but needed to be said anyway. "The pool director seen here collapsed during his victory speech." Her voice went cold, as the hologram showed the audience bursting into hysterics.
"We believe-ZZT. RZZT." More coughing, underneath the static, but it had happened before—the damage was already done. "We- I- we- believe that a virus prototype was released from the Hive. Casualties... projected casualties are catastrophic."
The woman coughed some more, so violently that her recording device must have been shaken, as the hologram faded and blurred. There was the sound of something heavy thudding to the floor, and the microphone let out a squeal of distaste, reverbing loudly.
Once again, the broadcast looped. Each time the female reporter pleaded to any possible listeners, and at the end of each segment, she died.
Rian:
"Well how did it break?" Rian asked Stevert as they sat at a table in the officer's mess hall where the faction was eating. He was sitting across from the Kinley brothers staring at the holo projector that had seemingly gone dead a couple of hours ago. They kept the thing turned onto one of the basic news channels after Luce had told him there was such a thing but the holo projector had gone quiet and he couldn't get it to turn back on. He had been left to assume it was broken.
<<Did you try another channel?>> Robert's logical thoughtspeak voice entered his head as Rian shoved spaghetti into his mouth and stared at the projector in frustration. He stopped mid bite before looking back down at the projector. "It has other channels?" he asked lamely even as his hands moved to flip a bunch of switches he hadn't known the purpose of until now.
He wished he hadn't. The images that came to life over the little projector were much worse than silence. Rian watched, the fork dangling from his hands, his meal forgotten as the news report played out. He wished he could look away but he found himself just staring. And he eventually found himself face to face with Suji...but only for a moment and then the image was gone. Still, he knew it would haunt his dreams. The empty eyes staring into his own, all spark of life gone, all emotions drained. He had thought she was emotionless before, now he knew how idiotic that had been. There was life there before and now there was just...nothing.
It was almost enough for him to miss the words catastrophic casualties but not quite. Rian heard and felt an odd groaning sound coming from his throat that he couldn't control. Ray? Drake? Were they ok? Suji obviously wasn't.
Rian looked around quickly for Luce only to see that she wasn't there. But everyone else was.
Chloe:
Chloe was in the officer's mess hall with the rest of the faction. Since her seperation from Essi, her quality of life had greatly improved. She had begun spending time with the faction, eating with everyone else, talking to people other than Rian and Stevert. Recently she had been contemplating moving into Suji's old room. There was no longer the need for her to seperate herself from the rest of the faction, and that excited her almost as much as the food in front of her. Someone had made spaghetti, which she had immediately covered in parmesan cheese. Essi had hated cheese. She would have spent the 4 hours after the meal complaining. But not anymore.
Chloe felt a lot like someone, god or some higher power or something, had smiled down on her, giving her a second chance at the life she deserved. A life with the Animorphs, with the faction that was around her. Even listening to Rian absently fiddle with the projector was music to her ears. That was, until a voice started blaring from it. Chloe started to yell at him to turn the damn thing off until she realized what it was saying. An emergency broadcast? she wondered, slowly turning around to face the images it was playing. Immediately, she wished she hadn't, because what she saw made the spaghetti desperately want to come back up. She could feel it lurching in her stomach as she fought back the urge to vomit.
The scene was disasterous. An animorph taken alive? Chloe could hardly believe that it was even possible. Then she saw her. Chloe would recognize her anywhere. Another Animorph was slain... not just any other animorph. It was Suji. The image that came across the screen, her lifeless body, nearly decapitated, her eyes, completely void of life. The sight was to much for Chloe's already churning stomach. She tried to turn where no one else would see, not wanting to provoke anyone else's gag reflexes, but there were people all around. There was a trash can just barely close enough. Chole nearly jumped to it as her stomach let go. She didn't hear mention of a virus, didn't see the reporter's death, but she didn't need to. It was already to much to believe.
Nait:
Nati was actually enjoying herself. For the first time since coming to Vegas she was feeling like this group was something similar to what she left behind in Mexico. It felt united, like a team or a family. That was hard when most of them were doing their own thing, but with all of them here together it felt right. Now she knew she'd made the right choice.
Were it not for what happened next, Nati's day would have ended on a high. Then the radio crackled to life, the emergency broadcast playing in front of them. Nati had to force herself to swallow her last bite of food as she listened, not wanting to spit half chewed food back onto her plate even though it seemed to catch in her throat.
How had this happened. This was horrible, and things were only getting worse. Nati saw Chloe go diving for the trash can during the report about the captured Animorph and its dead comrade. Nati almost wondered why she didn't do the same when she saw the face of the dead Animorph. It was Suji. She could still remember Suji and Luce bringing her back from Mexico. It hadn't been that long ago. And now she was dead, gone, along with an entire city of humans. Yes, the yeerks had died, but who else had payed for that? And why did it matter when the city was gone forever?
"Mi dios. Es como infierno en la tierra."
Diana:
Emergency Broadcast. Diana was not sure when the forkful of spaghetti had dropped from her hand, when her heart crashed into her stomach, or when she had turned away, eyes closed. The sense of loss that overcame her dwarfed the pain of being away from her likely dead parents. Suji was dead. Certainly dead. Bile rose in Diana's throat and she pushed away her dinner plate. Lifting her head to face Rian, Diana set her jaw firmly allowing slow tears to streak her cheeks.
"Grêlez les morts victorieux." Hail the victorious dead. The only, absolutely only, good thing about this was that the Dallas Animorphs no longer would suffer at the hands of Yeerks. "Nous nous rappellerons les."
Diana stood and took several plates, covering in half finished pasta and bread, and retreated to the kitchen. Taking the blue bottle of Dawn, she began to wash the mismatched china and Diana wept. She had never boasted that she could withhold her emotions; in fact she treasured her ability to express her feelings. Tear drops dotted the front of her shirt and it occurred to Diana that he hands were shaking. How could this have happen? Mon Dieu, how?
This changed everything. Knowing that the Yeerks could simply go in and blow them all away...
Unthinkable.
Stevert:
Steve kept shoveling the pasta into his mouth. It was delicious! His compliments definitely went to the chef. He had just forgotten who the chef was. In between bites, he glanced over at the communicator thing Rian was toying with. That was because of Robert's influence. Then Steve heard Robert dish out some more sage advice and said, <<Did you try another channel?>>
Apparently, Rian did just that. And Steve suddenly wished he hadn't. He glanced up again as the woman on the screen kept shouting about an emergency broadcast. His jaw dropped and food hung out of his mouth. That was Suji there, dead. Her neck was sliced open. Suicide. There's no way she would have been killed by that. She could have morphed out. The thought made Steve stomach roll, since the events had must've been horrible for Suji to ever do that.
Then, <<Oh my GOD!>> Robert yelled. He had reached another conclusion. The newsperson said that Suji was probably the last Animorph in Dallas. That meant that Ray and Drake could be dead. And his mind went back to a recent talk with Matt, of how Aubrey and Lizzie had went there. They could be dead as well. At least two Animorphs were.
Rob's mind was wide open and Steve easily found that in his brother's mind. Steve's eyes bulged and his face contorted. Tears began to stream as he suddenly jumped up from the table and ran out of the mess hall. He began shaking as he realized what had happened. His good friends and ex-teammates could all be dead. All of them could be dead!
Memories began flying through his mind. A girl and a horse in the rain. A seagull soaring overhead. A secretary bird stalking someone. A vulture dropping dynamite. A crow on a roof. A monkey on a chandelier. A magpie against the morning sky. A caracal. A giraffe. A crocodile. A seal. A lizard. A dog. Lizzie, Aubrey, Drake, Ray, and Suji. Dead! Steve burst through the door to his room and flung himself on the closest bed, sobs being the only sound heard.
Similar things were flashing through Rob's mind. But he had enough sense to partition himself off from Steve. He completely withdrew from Steve's mind, merely taking up space. He had no contact and sealed his mind off, making sure that Steve didn't "see" anything else. He waited.
Broadcast:
The tape was in the middle of another loop when a shriek of reverb cut through.
“Hello? Oh God, gross, fucking gross.” Along with male voice there was the sound of someone pushing something heavily and soft away from the mic. “I don’t know how long this copy has been playing, but things are changing. Not… not for the better.”
Where the hologram had paused its projection, it renewed afresh, now tossing up clips of buildings burning, and mobs in the street. The footage looked like it’d been shot on foot, and some parts perhaps filmed from a bike ride. Intersections were jammed with traffic accidents, and there were signs of a mass exodus: the direction wasn’t too distinct, from ground level. Others seemed content to rob building in broad daylight, with plenty of witnesses, and no one saw fit to stop them.
“The looting started a couple of hours ago. I don’t know where everyone thinks they’re going. It’s hell down here. People are trying to make it out of the city but… well…”
More projections: Hork Bajir easily cutting through masses of unarmed humans—Controllers or not, it was impossible to say—who were unarmed.
“The Hork Bajir got hit by the virus too though. S’funny, right? I mean, after what the Andalites did to ‘em? Haha!” The laugh was frantic, panicked, and the guy speaking into the mic coughed harshly. “Now… now it’s just a lot of bodies. Bodies everywhere. Some people seem affected faster. Some people ain’t. The sight-” There came a keening tone in his voice, on the verge of a wail, and he choked it down. “The sight’s enough to make a guy wish he was one of the former. Dead early.”
More images rolled: no one, it seemed, had wanted to take their chances dying in their homes. At least, that’s what the footage of downtown Dallas suggested: the street was lined with corpses, and the gutters and dips of pavement were often thick with blood. It pooled up to several inches in the worst places. Smears of it were splashed around just about every wall, tellingly at the height of outstretched hands.
“Fucking… fucking suckers…” He hacked again, but it wasn’t a wet cough, not yet. “News is. News is they’ve already quarantined the entire city. Big fucking invisible cage gone up round it all. No one’s getting out. I guess—I guess that’s the smart thing to do. God fucking Almighty, just look at this place. No one’s getting out. Everyone—everyone with some brains—everyone knows what comes after quarantine. Fire. Fire to clean up the Goddamn mess.”
More footage began to unravel of the chaos in the streets.
“Till then… till then, ladies and gents, I’ll be your host.” He laughed again, high pitched and manic. “Before we’re done the Lone Star State is gonna get a lot more lonely, I can tell you that.”
Julia:
Julia had been silently eating her spaghetti, she had never been one for pasta, but for some reason this tasted very good to her. She listened as Rian ranted about the broken hologram projector. It was a good reason to be upset. That projector was one of our only connections to the happenings of the Yeerk news. Julia looked up as the hologram project came to life, to a horrific image.
The girl's eyes were lank, that of no expression, utterly emotionless. Julia looked on in shock, and felt the wet tears roll down her face. The tape played on, and with each passing minute, the scenes grew more horrific. and more tears rolled down her face. She watched on in silence as the tape ended. She held her head in her hands, unable to stop the tears, she looed around, at everyone's reactions.
Dexter/Tryar:
Dexter sat on the couch of the YPM member’s house with his legs crossed. Across from his was another YPM whose name he forgot shortly after she said it. She was talking adamantly about something that was very important, to her. Tyrar wasn’t helping at all either. He was off in his own space, probably missed the girls name too. As she continued speaking Dexter blinked lazily, nodding when it seemed appropriate.
He looked away for a moment and rested his chin on his hand. Vegas was still new and he didn’t really know anyone. That was one of the reasons he’d gone to the house. Unfortunately socializing wasn’t as easy for him as it had been. Between having few conversations since Boston and being the new guy, Dexter found himself hitting a wall with the other YPM member.
When he looked back the girl was staring slack jawed in his direction. Thinking he’d missed a question he opened his mouth to make an excuse. Instead she stood up and walked across the room. He twisted around trying to see where she was headed before standing up as well. All of the other YPM were huddled around a holo projector on a table. Dexter walked up next to man and watched as the woman in the message began to cough.
“What’s going on?” He asked the closest person only to be shushed.
He looked back at the projection as the woman spoke. Something had happened in Dallas and then the picture changed to a Yeerk pool. Tyrar had come out of whatever hole he’d been hiding in and Dexter felt his body tense. There was a gasp to his left at the mention of the captured YPM members. When the report said one hundred percent casualties several people began to cry.
It made him feel awkward and horrible. He was upset about the deaths and what they could mean for the whole movement but not to the point of being emotional. He didn’t know any of the YPM or Animorphs in Dallas, maybe the others had. For him though the event wasn’t personal even if he did know it was very, very bad. Then the images flashed to a woman with a partially severed neck. Dexter covered his mouth at the brief wave of nausea but continued watching. A virus, those empire idiots had made a virus.
The broadcasted ended and just as the loop started up again. Dexter continued watching, trying to catch what he missed earlier. When the scenes started to become familiar the projection shifted and after an ear splitting whine another voice spoke. Whoever he was, he didn’t have any good news. More images of death in Dallas and the city was quarantined.
Several of the YPM members were still crying but for the most part remained silent. Some of them began to move, doing whatever it was that they need to do while most stayed next to the projector. Dexter made his way to the nearest chair before his knees got weak and had to catch himself on the armrest to stop from falling over. His breath was shallow and it was getting more difficult. Dex lowered himself into the seat before closing his eyes. As he tried to control his breathing Dexter wondered if he was going it to shock. His eyes snapped back open when he realized he wasn’t, Tyrar was.
George:
More dead people, more images on the television.
George looked around at the horror-struck faces around him, mumbled "Gotta take a whiz" and left the room.
Sure, it was all real, and relevant, and everything. Sure, it was terrible, and it was horrifying, and he should be outraged.
But it was just more dead people. Lots of people died every day pretty needlessly, and he knew that pretty well. It was sad, sadder if he really knew anyone who died, but he didn't know too many people, period. The couple he would really break up over were safe, as far as he knew.
Yea, it was selfish. But he was just one more selfish person in a world crawling with them - as the television showed pretty well.
Once all the bastards were gone then maybe he'd think about reform, but for now...
The trickle of pee hitting the urinal always calmed him down. Weird, but true.
Broadcast:
The projector had been showing footage from a fixed point for quite a while now. The recorder must have been some camera mounted at the top of a taller building in Dallas. From this point smoke could be seen billowing over the landscape: traffic jams had not only wrapped metal around metal, but flames spurted up where fires (grease, oil, and electrical) had sprung up. Down on the ground, masses of people seemed to be moving away from the center of the city -- where the pool was located. Bodies casually littered the sidewalks, piled two and three deep in some places. The sidewalks looked more crimson than concrete: blood covered more areas than it didn't, for yards at a time.
Then, every couple of moments, the camera would shake. It was hard to tell what was causing the tremors, which came more and more frequently. Then, suddenly, a flaming jet flashed across the sky, so close that it blocked most of the view, like a horrible asteroid. The heat deformed the camera's lens, warping it slightly. As the object plummeted to the ground, it became easier to distinguish: a bug fighter, half incinerated, falling from the sky. It crashed into the middle of another sky scraper, which promptly folded in two, and collapsed. The dust from the fall was so great that it was impossible to see a thing for a solid minute or two.
Eerily, there was no external sound: just the camera shaking. More and more ships came down, like shooting stars that ignited everything they touched.
"It's raaain-ing it's pour-ing..." The host's voice was cracked, fading, but there. He let out a couple of slurping, wet coughs. "Fallin' staaars! Make a wish!" He let out another cough, which sounded like it brought up liquid. "They know that flying's the only way out. Them's government ships up there, knocking these birdies out of the sky. Suckers."
Now though, a there was something else. A line, faint, white, shot down from the clouds. It was as thin as a thread, barely noticeable with all the smoke and debris in the air. "What's-"
The thin line widened, glowing so bright it was like staring at the sun. And then it was greater than the sun, blinding the entire area in light for handful of seconds. The camera shook wildly, uncontrollably, and it was a wonder the thing wasn't thrown from its mount. "I'll be damned," the host's voice rattled, throat thick with blood. "I knew they had the balls, but Jesus, Jesus."
When the camera readjusted, the light emissions entering readable levels, there was no more pool. It was cleaner than the dying bug fighters and other spacecraft, more efficient: but the pool was gone. The laser had been utterly precise. It must have been a mercy move: the laser was specifically to make the deaths of the defenseless Yeerks in the pool as quick and painless as possible. Unlike what awaited everyone else.
"And now..." The young man's voice burbled. "Now fire."
Maybe ten minutes passed, maybe ten hours: he'd never be able to tell. He held death off though, for as long as possible. He wanted to see this. Needed to see it. It was -- and he laughed a little at the pun -- the chance of a lifetime.
The camera recorded the fall of the first atomic bomb. It looked like nothing: not nearly as impressive as the falling spacecraft and jumbo jets, which careened out of the air like birds with their wings set ablaze. No, the bomb was just a blip, a pebble, tossed carelessly towards the earth. There would be more: the needed to kill everything, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and the forcefield would keep them from decimating too much of the landscape, or irradiating it too greatly. But for now, it was just this one, as far as the camera saw.
For half a second the tiny, metallic object disappeared from view: passing behind the closest line of sky scrapers. When it hit, there was no transition.
One second, a city was there. A dying city, sure: blistering, pestilent, drowning in its own blood, but there.
The next, there was nothing: a brilliant flash. Static.
Rian;
Rian's eyes hardened as the feed cut out once and for all. It was over. He closed his eyes and said a small prayer for those that had died before standing up. There wasn't much they could do but there were a few things and Rian was determined to do them.
Stevert had disappeared but he would need the young animorph more than ever in the days ahead. His morphs were the only that had a chance of doing what Rian had in mind. <<Rob,>> Rian began, opening a private channel between him and his second. If Robert chose to share it with Steve that was his business but Rian had a feeling Steve was in no position to receive orders right now. <<When you can I need you to head towards Dallas. You and Steve have the best morphs for the job. I don't expect many survivors but there should be some. Someone had to get out of the city. We are going to be taking in anyone we can.>>
Next he turned his mind to Diana. <<Diana, we need to make this base ready to receive visitors. I expect refugees. We'll be sending them on to Mexico but we'll still need to provide for them for a couple of days or however long it takes them to recover. Can you put together a team and go into the city to get supplies with Chloe and Nati?>> Rian asked all this as he exited the mess hall and headed back towards his room. He doubted Cassie didn't know about this but he had to make sure and he had to see if she had any orders for him.
He pulled out the cellphone and dialed one of the few numbers listed. He let it ring for a while but no one picked up. He'd have to try again later. He stuffed the cellphone into his belt and quickly morphed into his kestrel form. If they were going to help get refugees to Mexico there were a few people he'd need to contact and top of his list was the YPM.
He flew out of his window, sending one last message to his faction before he went. <<I'm going to go talk to Aceber. I'll be back in about an hour,>> he said as he positioned his wings to take advantage of the thermals coming up off the desert.
Stephanie:
Stephanie closed her eyes, remembering again the moment two days ago when Yuley had come in and told her that her brother was dead. There wasn't even a body to bury, the bastards had draconed him and he was just gone.
She opened her eyes and looked around at the assembled YPM members, feeling slightly out of place as the only free human in the room. Many were in tears and being held by their fellows. %100 YPM casualties in Dallas. Of course none of that mattered because Dallas casualties were %100 for everyone now either way.
Steph looked around and walked over to a table. She picked up a dracon beam that someone had left lying around and put it in her pocket. She was sure she'd need it soon enough.
"You ok?"Stephanie turned around to see an old woman with a tear streaked face holding out a tissue. Stephanie smiled and then realized that was the wrong reaction and put a sympathizing expression on her face instead. She wasn't heartless, she just couldn't really feel sorry for these people after what had happened to Logan. She wondered if that made her a bad person.
"I'm ok," Steph answered. "I guess I'm still a little shocked. Can't really feel it you know." The woman nodded even as a few more tears began to slide down her face. She used her own tissue to wipe them away and then tried to smile for Stephanie.
"At least they are in a better place," she said, her voice breaking as she tried to speak. Stephanie wondered if it was the human or the yeerk speaking. As far as she knew yeerks didn't believe in an after life but maybe they would after this. Stephanie just nodded along and then mumbled some excuse and made her escape.
Rian:
Rian demorphed in the shadow of the garage of the YPM house. He paused for a moment to just feel what this day would mean to everyone. So many had died. So many would never see tomorrow, would never get a chance to help build a future. And the casualties were on both sides. For the first time ever this war seemed pointless to him. As much as he hated what the yeerks did was it really worth all these lives to stop them? Was it worth it to them? The YPM were living proof that there was another way so why couldn't they just talk about it?
Rian leaned against the side of the garage, his heart heavy. He was so tired and he just wanted to curl into a little ball and forget what was going on. He wanted to see Ember. He wanted to fall asleep in her arms. He wanted to go to a movie with Matt instead of fighting a war with him. He wanted to run that stupid little obstacle course with Tim. They never had figured out who has the best fox morph and would they ever get the chance? Would they ever just be kids again? People again instead of soldiers destined to die in some pointless war?
Rian squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep from crying. He was no longer the young man who thought admitting to feeling pain was a sign of weakness. If you didn't allow yourself to feel then you became the type of monster who could order the death of thousands and not blink. Matt had taught him that, while it was harder to feel, it was better. But even knowing that Rian pushed the emotion away. He swore to himself that he would cry just not now. Before he could allow himself to break down he wanted to make sure he had done all he could to help. So he took a few deep breathes and begged a reprieve from the depression that was trying to overtake him as he pushed away from the wall of the garage and walked around the front of the house.
He knocked on the door and looked up and down the street, nervous to be standing out in the open in his morphing suit. A man opened the door and quickly ushered him in, recognizing the Vegas faction leader. Rian slid past him and entered the house. The sounds of crying assaulted his ears and Rian's expression closed down even more as he tried to keep from joining them.
"Is Aceber here?" he asked quietly. The man next to him just nodded and went to find the YPM leader. Rian stood by the door, hesitant to enter the room and intrude on the mourning of these people.
He looked around and spotted a young woman watching him intently instead of grieving with the others and he looked away. He wasn't sure what she wanted but, for some reason, it was hard to meet her gaze.
Stephanie:
Stephanie looked up as the young man in the morphing suit entered the house. She recognized him of course though she doubted he could say the same. Of course he couldn't. He was the mighty leader of the animorphs. Why would he have taken the time to take note of her existence when he had come to visit her brother.
The animorphs claimed to be fighting for humanity but the first time Stephanie, one of the free humans they claimed to protect, had ever seen him was when he had visited Logan after Logan had started his little rebel group. Apparently Logan and his friends hadn't been worthy of Animorph attention before then. Being a free human wasn't good enough, not even for them.
Stephanie got up and walked over to the faction leader. He didn't even have the decency to offer his condolences to the YPM, he just held himself apart and above the people here.
Rian:
Rian watched the young woman walk towards him. She seemed familiar but he couldn't place where he knew her from. Rian had always been better with faces than names and he often found himself in the embarrassing position of having to ask them again.
"Rian right," she said as she came over. Great, now it was going to happen again. He nodded, hoping he could get through this conversation without having to ask her what her name was. "Stephanie Tregan, Logan's sister." Thank God for his small gifts Rian thought as he made sounds of recognition. And he did recognize her now that she had told him her name. She hadn't seemed too happy about what her brother had decided to do and Rian couldn't blame her. Logan had seemed like he was going to get himself killed. But it wasn't up to Rian to dissuade him from his choices. The young man had been older than him for one thing.
"How is your brother," Rian asked both for politeness sake and because he was interested. He agreed with Logan's sentiment and had even suggested making the young man an animorph. He'd seemed tempted but had ultimately decided that humans needed some all human heroes. It was a position Rian could respect even if he believed that Logan may not have been the best person to be that hero. His sister had seemed infinitely more practical and level headed than he had. If Rian had had a choice he would have suggested she lead the group.
"Dead," Stephanie said. She said it so casually that for a moment it took Rian a moment to understand what she had said. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Rian closely for a reaction. He scrambled to come up with something appropriate. Maybe, on any other day, he could have just said, 'I'm sorry' but today, after so much news of death anyway, he didn't know how he felt.
Apparently his confused silence was not appreciated. "Just another person dead today. No big deal to you right?" she said quietly, her eyes angry.
"I'm sorry. That isn't what I meant. I am just surprised," he said, hoping to undo whatever damage his silence had done. "How did it happen?"
"Dracon fire. Got killed trying to free people from Trump tower. Funny thing is he wouldn't have even been there if it wasn't for you." Stephanie continued, keeping her voice low so that they didn't attract the attention of those around them.
"He made his own choices Stephanie," Rian said, seeing where this conversation was heading and hoping to head it off. He really couldn't take one more death on his conscious. Not today. "I-" he was cut off as he felt a burning sensation in his stomach. Surprisingly he had felt this before. It felt like forever ago when he'd been shot in LA. but the feeling of having your stomach disintegrate was not something you easily forgot.
Rian began his demorph even as he began to fall, his eyes catching sight of the dracon beam in Stephanie's hand. He'd let her get close to him and he hadn't even noticed the weapon. He hadn't thought to be on his guard. Stupid really. Rian was known for being suspicious of everyone and everything and now he had let some stranger shoot him.
"Oh no you don't," she said, furious, as she began to see him shift. The YPM were reacting to her actions now but there would be no time for any of them to do anything. Stephanie quickly raised the dracon beam and shot Rian directly between his eyes as he looked up at her, face shifting as he morphed.
His head disintegrated and his body followed. There was nothing left but empty space.
Dexter/Tryar:
Sitting on a couch probably wasn’t the most productive thing Dexter could have been doing. He was sure it was the only thing he could have done given Tyrar mental state. As the broadcast continued the YPM had started to think that the whole disaster was somehow his fault. Scary part was he could say exactly how it was his fault and sound rational.
Dexter barely noticed another young man enter. Rian, he’d met him once, maybe twice, never really got to know him. He was an animorph that much Dex was sure about. He’d asked for Aceber, and some guy was taking care of it. That was okay. Dexter had problems of his own. A girl walked up to him and they started talking. Something about it gave him a bad feeling, but he pushed it aside. Dallas had just been destroyed, he was just over reacting.
He closed his eyes and continued breathing. In, out, in, until the pattern started working. Tyrar started to become less tense. Then someone screamed. Their eyes snapped open. Tyrar stood up and watched as several YPM running. By the time they were able to follow the members across the room the girl pointed the dracon in Rian’s face and fired.
Tyrar pulled his ballistic knife and aimed at the girl’s chest. He was about to release the blade when another member stepped in the weapon’s path. Out of relax he jerked the knife up and re-engaged the safety. An YPM next to him gave him a look of warning and Tyrar narrowed his eyes. The girl was down on the ground within seconds afterward, the dracon thrown out of her reach.
<<Ty- >> Dex started.
<<Shut Up! >> He mentally yelled and clamped down control.
Dexter felt a sense of dread run through him. Tyrar had take control before, but this time was different, more intense and vaguely familiar in a very bad way. Then the memory hit him like a punch in the gut. The last time the yeerk had done something like this was when they were first paired and it had taken years to get reduce his paranoia and violent tendencies. All that work, undone in one day.
Tyrar sheathed the knife in the small of his back, keeping an eye on the YPM who was still staring at him. He walked back to the couch and sat down. Resting his chin on his hands, he decided to wait. See what Aceber’s plan was in regards to Dallas, the animorphs and this new death. Perhaps he would be sent, unlikely, but the possibility was there.
Dexter tried to pick up on what was going on in the yeerk’s head other than what he wanted to do next. There was something under the surface, what was bothering him worse than the day’s events. Tyrar had always kept secrets, and Dex had been okay with that before. Now he wasn’t so sure, it was scaring him. Just below all the gears turning and plans forming Dexter heard the same words leak through the lockdown.
<<Not again, not again… >>
Over and over, the emergency Peace Movement channel played the same images and words on loop, and now it was syndicated across other emergency frequencies—though not any of the major ones. The major ones had all been taken off air by the Yeerk government: in fact, save for a handful of these backwaters channels, news from Dallas had been utterly cut off. Which might have been unnoticeable, for anyone outside of the Dallas region…
…if nearly every Controller in the country hadn’t been alerted, by hologram or word of mouth, about the successful “capture” of an Animorph earlier that day. The sudden, complete silence, as the Dallas broadcasts (and news of the Animorph defeat) dropped off the grid, was almost as ominous as the broadcasts that did manage to squeak through.
Almost.
"This is an emergency broadcast! This is an emergency broadcast from Dallas, Texas! My name is not important, and neither is my rank. What you must know is that events are at work in this city which may doom us all." Despite how cliched and overwrought the words were, it was clear that the woman speaking was past caring about that.
The projector suddenly focused, as it had dozens of times now, tossing up the life-size image of a woman sitting in front of a disheveled desk. "What you are about to be shown-" She began to cough, harshly, and took a long drink of water. "What you are about to be shown are the true events as they have happened in Dallas today."
The projection suddenly swiveled, showing an armored truck with a huge security detail pulling up alongside what appeared to be an office... nearby an impossibly large Yeerk pool. "Earlier today a group of Animorphs attempted a rescue mission for our people -- for several Peace Movement captives -- at the Hive. They were unsuccessful, and the Hive went into lockdown shortly after. There are reports of several Animorph casualties, 100 percent..." she gulped, holding in a sob, "100 percent Peace Movement casualties. An Animorph was captured." There was a pause.
"Alive. An Animorph was taken alive."
The hologram switched to huge audience, as a man walked up to a podium. Two Hork Bajir bounded after him, and one was holding something. Next to him, they began affixing the body--it was certainly a body--to the central podium. They used thin wire, which was bound so tight that it clearly cut into the flesh at places.
But the body in question was long past feeling anything. The head hung at a gross angle, the neck severed at least one-third across. The wound was ugly and deep but relatively bloodless: the bleeding out was good and done. The lips were pale, and no one had seen fit to close the eyes: they stared, dark and empty, across the crowd.
"Another Animorph was slain attempting a rescue. We do not know why she was alone--she may be the last of the Dallas group. She was unsuccessful," the reporter said the last word quietly, as if it was terribly obvious, but needed to be said anyway. "The pool director seen here collapsed during his victory speech." Her voice went cold, as the hologram showed the audience bursting into hysterics.
"We believe-ZZT. RZZT." More coughing, underneath the static, but it had happened before—the damage was already done. "We- I- we- believe that a virus prototype was released from the Hive. Casualties... projected casualties are catastrophic."
The woman coughed some more, so violently that her recording device must have been shaken, as the hologram faded and blurred. There was the sound of something heavy thudding to the floor, and the microphone let out a squeal of distaste, reverbing loudly.
Once again, the broadcast looped. Each time the female reporter pleaded to any possible listeners, and at the end of each segment, she died.
Rian:
"Well how did it break?" Rian asked Stevert as they sat at a table in the officer's mess hall where the faction was eating. He was sitting across from the Kinley brothers staring at the holo projector that had seemingly gone dead a couple of hours ago. They kept the thing turned onto one of the basic news channels after Luce had told him there was such a thing but the holo projector had gone quiet and he couldn't get it to turn back on. He had been left to assume it was broken.
<<Did you try another channel?>> Robert's logical thoughtspeak voice entered his head as Rian shoved spaghetti into his mouth and stared at the projector in frustration. He stopped mid bite before looking back down at the projector. "It has other channels?" he asked lamely even as his hands moved to flip a bunch of switches he hadn't known the purpose of until now.
He wished he hadn't. The images that came to life over the little projector were much worse than silence. Rian watched, the fork dangling from his hands, his meal forgotten as the news report played out. He wished he could look away but he found himself just staring. And he eventually found himself face to face with Suji...but only for a moment and then the image was gone. Still, he knew it would haunt his dreams. The empty eyes staring into his own, all spark of life gone, all emotions drained. He had thought she was emotionless before, now he knew how idiotic that had been. There was life there before and now there was just...nothing.
It was almost enough for him to miss the words catastrophic casualties but not quite. Rian heard and felt an odd groaning sound coming from his throat that he couldn't control. Ray? Drake? Were they ok? Suji obviously wasn't.
Rian looked around quickly for Luce only to see that she wasn't there. But everyone else was.
Chloe:
Chloe was in the officer's mess hall with the rest of the faction. Since her seperation from Essi, her quality of life had greatly improved. She had begun spending time with the faction, eating with everyone else, talking to people other than Rian and Stevert. Recently she had been contemplating moving into Suji's old room. There was no longer the need for her to seperate herself from the rest of the faction, and that excited her almost as much as the food in front of her. Someone had made spaghetti, which she had immediately covered in parmesan cheese. Essi had hated cheese. She would have spent the 4 hours after the meal complaining. But not anymore.
Chloe felt a lot like someone, god or some higher power or something, had smiled down on her, giving her a second chance at the life she deserved. A life with the Animorphs, with the faction that was around her. Even listening to Rian absently fiddle with the projector was music to her ears. That was, until a voice started blaring from it. Chloe started to yell at him to turn the damn thing off until she realized what it was saying. An emergency broadcast? she wondered, slowly turning around to face the images it was playing. Immediately, she wished she hadn't, because what she saw made the spaghetti desperately want to come back up. She could feel it lurching in her stomach as she fought back the urge to vomit.
The scene was disasterous. An animorph taken alive? Chloe could hardly believe that it was even possible. Then she saw her. Chloe would recognize her anywhere. Another Animorph was slain... not just any other animorph. It was Suji. The image that came across the screen, her lifeless body, nearly decapitated, her eyes, completely void of life. The sight was to much for Chloe's already churning stomach. She tried to turn where no one else would see, not wanting to provoke anyone else's gag reflexes, but there were people all around. There was a trash can just barely close enough. Chole nearly jumped to it as her stomach let go. She didn't hear mention of a virus, didn't see the reporter's death, but she didn't need to. It was already to much to believe.
Nait:
Nati was actually enjoying herself. For the first time since coming to Vegas she was feeling like this group was something similar to what she left behind in Mexico. It felt united, like a team or a family. That was hard when most of them were doing their own thing, but with all of them here together it felt right. Now she knew she'd made the right choice.
Were it not for what happened next, Nati's day would have ended on a high. Then the radio crackled to life, the emergency broadcast playing in front of them. Nati had to force herself to swallow her last bite of food as she listened, not wanting to spit half chewed food back onto her plate even though it seemed to catch in her throat.
How had this happened. This was horrible, and things were only getting worse. Nati saw Chloe go diving for the trash can during the report about the captured Animorph and its dead comrade. Nati almost wondered why she didn't do the same when she saw the face of the dead Animorph. It was Suji. She could still remember Suji and Luce bringing her back from Mexico. It hadn't been that long ago. And now she was dead, gone, along with an entire city of humans. Yes, the yeerks had died, but who else had payed for that? And why did it matter when the city was gone forever?
"Mi dios. Es como infierno en la tierra."
Diana:
Emergency Broadcast. Diana was not sure when the forkful of spaghetti had dropped from her hand, when her heart crashed into her stomach, or when she had turned away, eyes closed. The sense of loss that overcame her dwarfed the pain of being away from her likely dead parents. Suji was dead. Certainly dead. Bile rose in Diana's throat and she pushed away her dinner plate. Lifting her head to face Rian, Diana set her jaw firmly allowing slow tears to streak her cheeks.
"Grêlez les morts victorieux." Hail the victorious dead. The only, absolutely only, good thing about this was that the Dallas Animorphs no longer would suffer at the hands of Yeerks. "Nous nous rappellerons les."
Diana stood and took several plates, covering in half finished pasta and bread, and retreated to the kitchen. Taking the blue bottle of Dawn, she began to wash the mismatched china and Diana wept. She had never boasted that she could withhold her emotions; in fact she treasured her ability to express her feelings. Tear drops dotted the front of her shirt and it occurred to Diana that he hands were shaking. How could this have happen? Mon Dieu, how?
This changed everything. Knowing that the Yeerks could simply go in and blow them all away...
Unthinkable.
Stevert:
Steve kept shoveling the pasta into his mouth. It was delicious! His compliments definitely went to the chef. He had just forgotten who the chef was. In between bites, he glanced over at the communicator thing Rian was toying with. That was because of Robert's influence. Then Steve heard Robert dish out some more sage advice and said, <<Did you try another channel?>>
Apparently, Rian did just that. And Steve suddenly wished he hadn't. He glanced up again as the woman on the screen kept shouting about an emergency broadcast. His jaw dropped and food hung out of his mouth. That was Suji there, dead. Her neck was sliced open. Suicide. There's no way she would have been killed by that. She could have morphed out. The thought made Steve stomach roll, since the events had must've been horrible for Suji to ever do that.
Then, <<Oh my GOD!>> Robert yelled. He had reached another conclusion. The newsperson said that Suji was probably the last Animorph in Dallas. That meant that Ray and Drake could be dead. And his mind went back to a recent talk with Matt, of how Aubrey and Lizzie had went there. They could be dead as well. At least two Animorphs were.
Rob's mind was wide open and Steve easily found that in his brother's mind. Steve's eyes bulged and his face contorted. Tears began to stream as he suddenly jumped up from the table and ran out of the mess hall. He began shaking as he realized what had happened. His good friends and ex-teammates could all be dead. All of them could be dead!
Memories began flying through his mind. A girl and a horse in the rain. A seagull soaring overhead. A secretary bird stalking someone. A vulture dropping dynamite. A crow on a roof. A monkey on a chandelier. A magpie against the morning sky. A caracal. A giraffe. A crocodile. A seal. A lizard. A dog. Lizzie, Aubrey, Drake, Ray, and Suji. Dead! Steve burst through the door to his room and flung himself on the closest bed, sobs being the only sound heard.
Similar things were flashing through Rob's mind. But he had enough sense to partition himself off from Steve. He completely withdrew from Steve's mind, merely taking up space. He had no contact and sealed his mind off, making sure that Steve didn't "see" anything else. He waited.
Broadcast:
The tape was in the middle of another loop when a shriek of reverb cut through.
“Hello? Oh God, gross, fucking gross.” Along with male voice there was the sound of someone pushing something heavily and soft away from the mic. “I don’t know how long this copy has been playing, but things are changing. Not… not for the better.”
Where the hologram had paused its projection, it renewed afresh, now tossing up clips of buildings burning, and mobs in the street. The footage looked like it’d been shot on foot, and some parts perhaps filmed from a bike ride. Intersections were jammed with traffic accidents, and there were signs of a mass exodus: the direction wasn’t too distinct, from ground level. Others seemed content to rob building in broad daylight, with plenty of witnesses, and no one saw fit to stop them.
“The looting started a couple of hours ago. I don’t know where everyone thinks they’re going. It’s hell down here. People are trying to make it out of the city but… well…”
More projections: Hork Bajir easily cutting through masses of unarmed humans—Controllers or not, it was impossible to say—who were unarmed.
“The Hork Bajir got hit by the virus too though. S’funny, right? I mean, after what the Andalites did to ‘em? Haha!” The laugh was frantic, panicked, and the guy speaking into the mic coughed harshly. “Now… now it’s just a lot of bodies. Bodies everywhere. Some people seem affected faster. Some people ain’t. The sight-” There came a keening tone in his voice, on the verge of a wail, and he choked it down. “The sight’s enough to make a guy wish he was one of the former. Dead early.”
More images rolled: no one, it seemed, had wanted to take their chances dying in their homes. At least, that’s what the footage of downtown Dallas suggested: the street was lined with corpses, and the gutters and dips of pavement were often thick with blood. It pooled up to several inches in the worst places. Smears of it were splashed around just about every wall, tellingly at the height of outstretched hands.
“Fucking… fucking suckers…” He hacked again, but it wasn’t a wet cough, not yet. “News is. News is they’ve already quarantined the entire city. Big fucking invisible cage gone up round it all. No one’s getting out. I guess—I guess that’s the smart thing to do. God fucking Almighty, just look at this place. No one’s getting out. Everyone—everyone with some brains—everyone knows what comes after quarantine. Fire. Fire to clean up the Goddamn mess.”
More footage began to unravel of the chaos in the streets.
“Till then… till then, ladies and gents, I’ll be your host.” He laughed again, high pitched and manic. “Before we’re done the Lone Star State is gonna get a lot more lonely, I can tell you that.”
Julia:
Julia had been silently eating her spaghetti, she had never been one for pasta, but for some reason this tasted very good to her. She listened as Rian ranted about the broken hologram projector. It was a good reason to be upset. That projector was one of our only connections to the happenings of the Yeerk news. Julia looked up as the hologram project came to life, to a horrific image.
The girl's eyes were lank, that of no expression, utterly emotionless. Julia looked on in shock, and felt the wet tears roll down her face. The tape played on, and with each passing minute, the scenes grew more horrific. and more tears rolled down her face. She watched on in silence as the tape ended. She held her head in her hands, unable to stop the tears, she looed around, at everyone's reactions.
Dexter/Tryar:
Dexter sat on the couch of the YPM member’s house with his legs crossed. Across from his was another YPM whose name he forgot shortly after she said it. She was talking adamantly about something that was very important, to her. Tyrar wasn’t helping at all either. He was off in his own space, probably missed the girls name too. As she continued speaking Dexter blinked lazily, nodding when it seemed appropriate.
He looked away for a moment and rested his chin on his hand. Vegas was still new and he didn’t really know anyone. That was one of the reasons he’d gone to the house. Unfortunately socializing wasn’t as easy for him as it had been. Between having few conversations since Boston and being the new guy, Dexter found himself hitting a wall with the other YPM member.
When he looked back the girl was staring slack jawed in his direction. Thinking he’d missed a question he opened his mouth to make an excuse. Instead she stood up and walked across the room. He twisted around trying to see where she was headed before standing up as well. All of the other YPM were huddled around a holo projector on a table. Dexter walked up next to man and watched as the woman in the message began to cough.
“What’s going on?” He asked the closest person only to be shushed.
He looked back at the projection as the woman spoke. Something had happened in Dallas and then the picture changed to a Yeerk pool. Tyrar had come out of whatever hole he’d been hiding in and Dexter felt his body tense. There was a gasp to his left at the mention of the captured YPM members. When the report said one hundred percent casualties several people began to cry.
It made him feel awkward and horrible. He was upset about the deaths and what they could mean for the whole movement but not to the point of being emotional. He didn’t know any of the YPM or Animorphs in Dallas, maybe the others had. For him though the event wasn’t personal even if he did know it was very, very bad. Then the images flashed to a woman with a partially severed neck. Dexter covered his mouth at the brief wave of nausea but continued watching. A virus, those empire idiots had made a virus.
The broadcasted ended and just as the loop started up again. Dexter continued watching, trying to catch what he missed earlier. When the scenes started to become familiar the projection shifted and after an ear splitting whine another voice spoke. Whoever he was, he didn’t have any good news. More images of death in Dallas and the city was quarantined.
Several of the YPM members were still crying but for the most part remained silent. Some of them began to move, doing whatever it was that they need to do while most stayed next to the projector. Dexter made his way to the nearest chair before his knees got weak and had to catch himself on the armrest to stop from falling over. His breath was shallow and it was getting more difficult. Dex lowered himself into the seat before closing his eyes. As he tried to control his breathing Dexter wondered if he was going it to shock. His eyes snapped back open when he realized he wasn’t, Tyrar was.
George:
More dead people, more images on the television.
George looked around at the horror-struck faces around him, mumbled "Gotta take a whiz" and left the room.
Sure, it was all real, and relevant, and everything. Sure, it was terrible, and it was horrifying, and he should be outraged.
But it was just more dead people. Lots of people died every day pretty needlessly, and he knew that pretty well. It was sad, sadder if he really knew anyone who died, but he didn't know too many people, period. The couple he would really break up over were safe, as far as he knew.
Yea, it was selfish. But he was just one more selfish person in a world crawling with them - as the television showed pretty well.
Once all the bastards were gone then maybe he'd think about reform, but for now...
The trickle of pee hitting the urinal always calmed him down. Weird, but true.
Broadcast:
The projector had been showing footage from a fixed point for quite a while now. The recorder must have been some camera mounted at the top of a taller building in Dallas. From this point smoke could be seen billowing over the landscape: traffic jams had not only wrapped metal around metal, but flames spurted up where fires (grease, oil, and electrical) had sprung up. Down on the ground, masses of people seemed to be moving away from the center of the city -- where the pool was located. Bodies casually littered the sidewalks, piled two and three deep in some places. The sidewalks looked more crimson than concrete: blood covered more areas than it didn't, for yards at a time.
Then, every couple of moments, the camera would shake. It was hard to tell what was causing the tremors, which came more and more frequently. Then, suddenly, a flaming jet flashed across the sky, so close that it blocked most of the view, like a horrible asteroid. The heat deformed the camera's lens, warping it slightly. As the object plummeted to the ground, it became easier to distinguish: a bug fighter, half incinerated, falling from the sky. It crashed into the middle of another sky scraper, which promptly folded in two, and collapsed. The dust from the fall was so great that it was impossible to see a thing for a solid minute or two.
Eerily, there was no external sound: just the camera shaking. More and more ships came down, like shooting stars that ignited everything they touched.
"It's raaain-ing it's pour-ing..." The host's voice was cracked, fading, but there. He let out a couple of slurping, wet coughs. "Fallin' staaars! Make a wish!" He let out another cough, which sounded like it brought up liquid. "They know that flying's the only way out. Them's government ships up there, knocking these birdies out of the sky. Suckers."
Now though, a there was something else. A line, faint, white, shot down from the clouds. It was as thin as a thread, barely noticeable with all the smoke and debris in the air. "What's-"
The thin line widened, glowing so bright it was like staring at the sun. And then it was greater than the sun, blinding the entire area in light for handful of seconds. The camera shook wildly, uncontrollably, and it was a wonder the thing wasn't thrown from its mount. "I'll be damned," the host's voice rattled, throat thick with blood. "I knew they had the balls, but Jesus, Jesus."
When the camera readjusted, the light emissions entering readable levels, there was no more pool. It was cleaner than the dying bug fighters and other spacecraft, more efficient: but the pool was gone. The laser had been utterly precise. It must have been a mercy move: the laser was specifically to make the deaths of the defenseless Yeerks in the pool as quick and painless as possible. Unlike what awaited everyone else.
"And now..." The young man's voice burbled. "Now fire."
Maybe ten minutes passed, maybe ten hours: he'd never be able to tell. He held death off though, for as long as possible. He wanted to see this. Needed to see it. It was -- and he laughed a little at the pun -- the chance of a lifetime.
The camera recorded the fall of the first atomic bomb. It looked like nothing: not nearly as impressive as the falling spacecraft and jumbo jets, which careened out of the air like birds with their wings set ablaze. No, the bomb was just a blip, a pebble, tossed carelessly towards the earth. There would be more: the needed to kill everything, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and the forcefield would keep them from decimating too much of the landscape, or irradiating it too greatly. But for now, it was just this one, as far as the camera saw.
For half a second the tiny, metallic object disappeared from view: passing behind the closest line of sky scrapers. When it hit, there was no transition.
One second, a city was there. A dying city, sure: blistering, pestilent, drowning in its own blood, but there.
The next, there was nothing: a brilliant flash. Static.
Rian;
Rian's eyes hardened as the feed cut out once and for all. It was over. He closed his eyes and said a small prayer for those that had died before standing up. There wasn't much they could do but there were a few things and Rian was determined to do them.
Stevert had disappeared but he would need the young animorph more than ever in the days ahead. His morphs were the only that had a chance of doing what Rian had in mind. <<Rob,>> Rian began, opening a private channel between him and his second. If Robert chose to share it with Steve that was his business but Rian had a feeling Steve was in no position to receive orders right now. <<When you can I need you to head towards Dallas. You and Steve have the best morphs for the job. I don't expect many survivors but there should be some. Someone had to get out of the city. We are going to be taking in anyone we can.>>
Next he turned his mind to Diana. <<Diana, we need to make this base ready to receive visitors. I expect refugees. We'll be sending them on to Mexico but we'll still need to provide for them for a couple of days or however long it takes them to recover. Can you put together a team and go into the city to get supplies with Chloe and Nati?>> Rian asked all this as he exited the mess hall and headed back towards his room. He doubted Cassie didn't know about this but he had to make sure and he had to see if she had any orders for him.
He pulled out the cellphone and dialed one of the few numbers listed. He let it ring for a while but no one picked up. He'd have to try again later. He stuffed the cellphone into his belt and quickly morphed into his kestrel form. If they were going to help get refugees to Mexico there were a few people he'd need to contact and top of his list was the YPM.
He flew out of his window, sending one last message to his faction before he went. <<I'm going to go talk to Aceber. I'll be back in about an hour,>> he said as he positioned his wings to take advantage of the thermals coming up off the desert.
Stephanie:
Stephanie closed her eyes, remembering again the moment two days ago when Yuley had come in and told her that her brother was dead. There wasn't even a body to bury, the bastards had draconed him and he was just gone.
She opened her eyes and looked around at the assembled YPM members, feeling slightly out of place as the only free human in the room. Many were in tears and being held by their fellows. %100 YPM casualties in Dallas. Of course none of that mattered because Dallas casualties were %100 for everyone now either way.
Steph looked around and walked over to a table. She picked up a dracon beam that someone had left lying around and put it in her pocket. She was sure she'd need it soon enough.
"You ok?"Stephanie turned around to see an old woman with a tear streaked face holding out a tissue. Stephanie smiled and then realized that was the wrong reaction and put a sympathizing expression on her face instead. She wasn't heartless, she just couldn't really feel sorry for these people after what had happened to Logan. She wondered if that made her a bad person.
"I'm ok," Steph answered. "I guess I'm still a little shocked. Can't really feel it you know." The woman nodded even as a few more tears began to slide down her face. She used her own tissue to wipe them away and then tried to smile for Stephanie.
"At least they are in a better place," she said, her voice breaking as she tried to speak. Stephanie wondered if it was the human or the yeerk speaking. As far as she knew yeerks didn't believe in an after life but maybe they would after this. Stephanie just nodded along and then mumbled some excuse and made her escape.
Rian:
Rian demorphed in the shadow of the garage of the YPM house. He paused for a moment to just feel what this day would mean to everyone. So many had died. So many would never see tomorrow, would never get a chance to help build a future. And the casualties were on both sides. For the first time ever this war seemed pointless to him. As much as he hated what the yeerks did was it really worth all these lives to stop them? Was it worth it to them? The YPM were living proof that there was another way so why couldn't they just talk about it?
Rian leaned against the side of the garage, his heart heavy. He was so tired and he just wanted to curl into a little ball and forget what was going on. He wanted to see Ember. He wanted to fall asleep in her arms. He wanted to go to a movie with Matt instead of fighting a war with him. He wanted to run that stupid little obstacle course with Tim. They never had figured out who has the best fox morph and would they ever get the chance? Would they ever just be kids again? People again instead of soldiers destined to die in some pointless war?
Rian squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep from crying. He was no longer the young man who thought admitting to feeling pain was a sign of weakness. If you didn't allow yourself to feel then you became the type of monster who could order the death of thousands and not blink. Matt had taught him that, while it was harder to feel, it was better. But even knowing that Rian pushed the emotion away. He swore to himself that he would cry just not now. Before he could allow himself to break down he wanted to make sure he had done all he could to help. So he took a few deep breathes and begged a reprieve from the depression that was trying to overtake him as he pushed away from the wall of the garage and walked around the front of the house.
He knocked on the door and looked up and down the street, nervous to be standing out in the open in his morphing suit. A man opened the door and quickly ushered him in, recognizing the Vegas faction leader. Rian slid past him and entered the house. The sounds of crying assaulted his ears and Rian's expression closed down even more as he tried to keep from joining them.
"Is Aceber here?" he asked quietly. The man next to him just nodded and went to find the YPM leader. Rian stood by the door, hesitant to enter the room and intrude on the mourning of these people.
He looked around and spotted a young woman watching him intently instead of grieving with the others and he looked away. He wasn't sure what she wanted but, for some reason, it was hard to meet her gaze.
Stephanie:
Stephanie looked up as the young man in the morphing suit entered the house. She recognized him of course though she doubted he could say the same. Of course he couldn't. He was the mighty leader of the animorphs. Why would he have taken the time to take note of her existence when he had come to visit her brother.
The animorphs claimed to be fighting for humanity but the first time Stephanie, one of the free humans they claimed to protect, had ever seen him was when he had visited Logan after Logan had started his little rebel group. Apparently Logan and his friends hadn't been worthy of Animorph attention before then. Being a free human wasn't good enough, not even for them.
Stephanie got up and walked over to the faction leader. He didn't even have the decency to offer his condolences to the YPM, he just held himself apart and above the people here.
Rian:
Rian watched the young woman walk towards him. She seemed familiar but he couldn't place where he knew her from. Rian had always been better with faces than names and he often found himself in the embarrassing position of having to ask them again.
"Rian right," she said as she came over. Great, now it was going to happen again. He nodded, hoping he could get through this conversation without having to ask her what her name was. "Stephanie Tregan, Logan's sister." Thank God for his small gifts Rian thought as he made sounds of recognition. And he did recognize her now that she had told him her name. She hadn't seemed too happy about what her brother had decided to do and Rian couldn't blame her. Logan had seemed like he was going to get himself killed. But it wasn't up to Rian to dissuade him from his choices. The young man had been older than him for one thing.
"How is your brother," Rian asked both for politeness sake and because he was interested. He agreed with Logan's sentiment and had even suggested making the young man an animorph. He'd seemed tempted but had ultimately decided that humans needed some all human heroes. It was a position Rian could respect even if he believed that Logan may not have been the best person to be that hero. His sister had seemed infinitely more practical and level headed than he had. If Rian had had a choice he would have suggested she lead the group.
"Dead," Stephanie said. She said it so casually that for a moment it took Rian a moment to understand what she had said. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Rian closely for a reaction. He scrambled to come up with something appropriate. Maybe, on any other day, he could have just said, 'I'm sorry' but today, after so much news of death anyway, he didn't know how he felt.
Apparently his confused silence was not appreciated. "Just another person dead today. No big deal to you right?" she said quietly, her eyes angry.
"I'm sorry. That isn't what I meant. I am just surprised," he said, hoping to undo whatever damage his silence had done. "How did it happen?"
"Dracon fire. Got killed trying to free people from Trump tower. Funny thing is he wouldn't have even been there if it wasn't for you." Stephanie continued, keeping her voice low so that they didn't attract the attention of those around them.
"He made his own choices Stephanie," Rian said, seeing where this conversation was heading and hoping to head it off. He really couldn't take one more death on his conscious. Not today. "I-" he was cut off as he felt a burning sensation in his stomach. Surprisingly he had felt this before. It felt like forever ago when he'd been shot in LA. but the feeling of having your stomach disintegrate was not something you easily forgot.
Rian began his demorph even as he began to fall, his eyes catching sight of the dracon beam in Stephanie's hand. He'd let her get close to him and he hadn't even noticed the weapon. He hadn't thought to be on his guard. Stupid really. Rian was known for being suspicious of everyone and everything and now he had let some stranger shoot him.
"Oh no you don't," she said, furious, as she began to see him shift. The YPM were reacting to her actions now but there would be no time for any of them to do anything. Stephanie quickly raised the dracon beam and shot Rian directly between his eyes as he looked up at her, face shifting as he morphed.
His head disintegrated and his body followed. There was nothing left but empty space.
Dexter/Tryar:
Sitting on a couch probably wasn’t the most productive thing Dexter could have been doing. He was sure it was the only thing he could have done given Tyrar mental state. As the broadcast continued the YPM had started to think that the whole disaster was somehow his fault. Scary part was he could say exactly how it was his fault and sound rational.
Dexter barely noticed another young man enter. Rian, he’d met him once, maybe twice, never really got to know him. He was an animorph that much Dex was sure about. He’d asked for Aceber, and some guy was taking care of it. That was okay. Dexter had problems of his own. A girl walked up to him and they started talking. Something about it gave him a bad feeling, but he pushed it aside. Dallas had just been destroyed, he was just over reacting.
He closed his eyes and continued breathing. In, out, in, until the pattern started working. Tyrar started to become less tense. Then someone screamed. Their eyes snapped open. Tyrar stood up and watched as several YPM running. By the time they were able to follow the members across the room the girl pointed the dracon in Rian’s face and fired.
Tyrar pulled his ballistic knife and aimed at the girl’s chest. He was about to release the blade when another member stepped in the weapon’s path. Out of relax he jerked the knife up and re-engaged the safety. An YPM next to him gave him a look of warning and Tyrar narrowed his eyes. The girl was down on the ground within seconds afterward, the dracon thrown out of her reach.
<<Ty- >> Dex started.
<<Shut Up! >> He mentally yelled and clamped down control.
Dexter felt a sense of dread run through him. Tyrar had take control before, but this time was different, more intense and vaguely familiar in a very bad way. Then the memory hit him like a punch in the gut. The last time the yeerk had done something like this was when they were first paired and it had taken years to get reduce his paranoia and violent tendencies. All that work, undone in one day.
Tyrar sheathed the knife in the small of his back, keeping an eye on the YPM who was still staring at him. He walked back to the couch and sat down. Resting his chin on his hands, he decided to wait. See what Aceber’s plan was in regards to Dallas, the animorphs and this new death. Perhaps he would be sent, unlikely, but the possibility was there.
Dexter tried to pick up on what was going on in the yeerk’s head other than what he wanted to do next. There was something under the surface, what was bothering him worse than the day’s events. Tyrar had always kept secrets, and Dex had been okay with that before. Now he wasn’t so sure, it was scaring him. Just below all the gears turning and plans forming Dexter heard the same words leak through the lockdown.
<<Not again, not again… >>