Let's Read Animorphs! The Whole Series! Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges

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effervescible: Jun 29, 2012; i will eat your soul

Getting a little dusty in here.

# ? Nov 1, 2021 04:47

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# ? May 28, 2024 12:19

HisMajestyBOB: Oct 21, 2010; College Slice

God drat

# ? Nov 1, 2021 04:58

Malpais Legate: Oct 1, 2014

Just normal YA fiction things, like killing your mother.

# ? Nov 1, 2021 06:36

Bibliotechno Music: Dec 30, 2008

Really liking (well I hate it empathy-wise but love it storytelling-wise) the reversal in Marco�s realization that killing his mother would also kill something essential within him�followed immediately by V1 hitting him with the Dracon. Honestly this whole book has been stellar, even more so now than when I read it as a kid.

Also wanted to share that since I�ve been following this thread, my phone/tablet always suggests �Andalite� when I�m trying to say �and.�

# ? Nov 1, 2021 18:12

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

I honestly think this book has some of the best writing we've seen so far in the series. There's been a tendency by Animorph fans to dismiss the ghostwritten books, and they are variable in quality. But some of the ghostwriters can nail it.

# ? Nov 1, 2021 19:15

e X: Feb 23, 2013; cool but crude

Epicurius posted:

I honestly think this book has some of the best writing we've seen so far in the series. There's been a tendency by Animorph fans to dismiss the ghostwritten books, and they are variable in quality. But some of the ghostwriters can nail it.

100%. I was at the edge of my seat. I know that they are eventually exposed as humans and become 24/7 underground fighters, but I don't know when. So I genuinely didn't know what would happen to Visser 1/Marco's Mom. I think it is super obvious that Jake and Cassie are a fake out, but there were so many possibilities for the fate of Visser 1. Does she escape with the knowledge that some of the Andalite bandits are actually humans, do they let her go with that knowledge, does Visser 3 kill her, does she make a deal with Visser 3, does Marco kill her, does Rachel kill her? In retrospect, it is clear that if she was going to die, it had to be by Visser 3 hands, or Marco's, since he would never have forgiven Rachel or anybody else. Also, is this the beginning of the Ax/Marco/Tobias power trio? Because I think that is the first time Tobias was ever actually nice to Marco.

# ? Nov 1, 2021 19:58

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 29

quote:

I lunged.

The Dracon beam moved. Her finger tightened.

Too slow. She was too slow. I would hit her a split second before she could fire. I would hit her with all the power I possessed and she would fly backward into emptiness and -

RRRRROOOOOAAAARRR!

A flash of orange and black. It appeared over the lip of the cliff.

So fast!

The tiger hit me. Claws retracted, it hit me in my side and knocked me off my feet.

Spinning, I saw the Dracon weapon aimed right at me, following me, ready to fire.

And then, from the sky a bird dropped, wings folded back, talons out. It slashed at Visser One�s face.

�Aaaarrggh!� she cried.

She clutched at bloody tracks on her cheeks.

She staggered back.

<Mom!> I cried.

For a horrible long moment she teetered on the edge, fighting gravity. I leaped up, racing to grab her, pull her back, somehow, save her.

But the tiger wrapped a massive arm around me and held me down.

She fell. Disappeared from sight.

<No! No! No!> I cried.

<Hang on, Marco,> Jake said. <Hang on, man. Hang on, man.>

He held me that way, pinned down. The strength of his tiger morph made my own strength insignificant.

<Hang on, Marco. Hang on, man.>

Dimly, as though I was watching it on an out-of-focus TV, I was aware that battle raged on the opposite peak.

I knew that more Hork-Bajir had joined the battle. I knew that an Andalite was leading them.

That they were pushing back the tide of the Visser�s troops.

The free Hork-Bajir. Ax had brought them from the real colony, miles away.

In the sky a battle raged between the Empire ship and the Blade ship with its fighters. Not my problem anymore.

Nothing was my problem. All I had to do was listen to the voice in my head saying, <Hold on, Marco. Hold on, man. Hold on.>

For all that Marco thought he could be objective, for all that he tried to convince himself.he can't help it. He loves her.

Chapter 30

quote:

I stayed in bed for most of the next week. Sick. At least that�s what I told my dad.

I lay there staring at soap operas and Jerry Springer and old movies.

I didn�t know how I�d gotten down off that mountain or made it home. I was gone during all that. Gone to a place in my head.

Jake came and saw me. He told me how Cassie had seen Visser Three�s limo pulling in. They�d realized they were trapped. They�d gone at emergency speed back to roach morphs.

They figured nothing was going to kill a roach.

Cassie had been all the way into morph before Visser Three fried the car. Jake had only been halfway morphed. He�d been hurt, burned, unconscious.

Cassie had stayed to care for him, bringing him back to consciousness at the last minute. Just in time to demorph.

Jake had been seconds away from a lifetime trapped as something half roach, half human.

I listened to what he had to say. Listened to how Visser Three had escaped. How the free Hork-Bajir had lost five of their people in the battle.

I didn�t care.

He went away and I flipped the channels with my remote control.

Two more days passed and Rachel came to see me. She sat in my chair and put her feet up on my desk.

�There�s no body,� she announced.

�What?� I asked distractedly. I flipped through a dozen more channels.

�Visser One. Your mother. I searched. In eagle morph. There�s no body.�

I felt my insides tighten.

�The Yeerks cleaned up their mess. Destroyed the evidence.�

She shook her head. �No. The Yeerks Draconed the corpses. There are burn marks all over that hill. But nothing down where your mother fell.�

The scene flashed back, another channel on the TV: the �my mother falling to her death� show. I saw her fall, slow-motion.

I saw the Bug fighter roaring past.

Could it have reached her?

No. Impossible.

�Nice try, Rachel,� I said.

She shrugged. �I�m telling you what I saw. I wouldn�t lie.�

�Sure you would,� I said. �Pity. Charity. Make Marco feel better.�

�No. Because it won�t make you feel better. It wouldn�t be pity or charity. I wouldn�t be doing you a favor. You�ve cried and yelled and hated yourself. It�s bad, but if she�s dead at least it would be over. If she�s alive ��

I didn�t say anything. She sighed and got up to leave. She touched the doorknob and I said,

�Rachel? I was going to do it. Then I wasn�t. I was trying to kill her. And save her. What do you do?�

�Do?�

�What do you do when you have to make a decision, and each choice is horrible? What would you do, Rachel? If it was your mom or dad or sisters. What would you do, Xena?�

�Me?� She sighed. �I guess I�d hope that someone would come along and take that decision away from me.�

�Like Jake did to me.�

�Yeah.�

�What if she isn�t dead? What if she really did survive? Oh, God, what if there�s a next time?�

Rachel came back and sat beside me on the bed. She didn�t hug me. Rachel�s not a hugger. But she sat there with me.

�One battle at a time, Marco. One battle at a time.�

Not much of an answer. But the only answer I had.

�Try the movie channel,� Rachel said.

I aimed the remote control.

One of the consistent things in this series is that Rachel and Marco don't really like each other very much. Of all the Animorph pairings, they get along the worst. But still, she was the one who looked for the body, and she was the one to come to comfort Marco There's something to that.

So that bit of concentrated pain was The Reunion. Next up is book 31, The Conspiracy, written by Laura Battyanyi-Wiess, who we last met before as the author of book 27.

# ? Nov 2, 2021 03:47

Rochallor: Apr 23, 2010; ふっっっっっっっっっっっっｃｋ

Epicurius posted:

I honestly think this book has some of the best writing we've seen so far in the series. There's been a tendency by Animorph fans to dismiss the ghostwritten books, and they are variable in quality. But some of the ghostwriters can nail it.

There's some significant dips in quality in some of the ghostwritten stuff at times, but yeah it's not like it's a total wash. Most of the final "arc" so to speak is ghostwritten and pretty good. This book is great! The next one, from memory, not so much.

# ? Nov 2, 2021 04:42

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Epicurius posted:

One of the consistent things in this series is that Rachel and Marco don't really like each other very much. Of all the Animorph pairings, they get along the worst. But still, she was the one who looked for the body, and she was the one to come to comfort Marco There's something to that.

Definitely. It goes to show that even the two of them who get along the least are still... not friends, but certainly family to each other, who 100% will always have each other's backs. I also really like how this echoes 15, where she's again the one who maybe saw his mum surviving and tells him about it. (I actually remembered this one ending with the two of them watching Xena... was that a different book?)

I think Rachel's dad splitting with her mum and moving away isn't in the same league as what Marco's gone through, but still means she understands what it's like to "lose" a parent in a way that Jake and Cassie can't, which is why she feels compelled to step up here. (Yes, my parents got divorced when I was very young and these bits struck a chord with me.)

e X posted:

I know that they are eventually...

Eep, spoilers!

# ? Nov 2, 2021 09:23

QuickbreathFinisher: Sep 28, 2008; by reading this post you have agreed to form a gay socialist micronation.
`

that book was excellent. we've definitely reached the point in the series where I only read random books and was not keeping up month to month. I don't think I read megamorphs 3 or 28-30 as a kid and picked back up with the next one, not for any specific reason just because I fell out of the habit. I wasn't a very discerning reader, especially with series I deeply loved like this one.

I remember ignoring the megamorphs and chronicles books for a long time because they weren't "part of the real series" (I didn't understand how scifi or storytelling worked) so I had no clue how weird and awesome they got. I think I did end up reading Andalite, HB chronicles, and visser as well as the first two megamorphs. seeing some of the early ghostwriter books not be terrible is really great.

# ? Nov 2, 2021 20:03

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

The only books we aren't doing are the two Alternamorphs gamebooks, for those who don't know. In these, you play as a kid who joins the animophs....like David if he wasn't a piece of crap. Every few pages, you're faced with obstacle and have a choice of three animals to morph into. If you morph the right animal, you continue. If its one of the wrong ones, you die horribly.
.I'm skipping them mostly because, first, for choice gamebooks, they're really linear. Every book, you have something like five choice opportunities, and if you choose wrong, you lose instantly. Also, the choices are largely arbitrary. It never gives you any hints on what animal or type of animal is the best idea. So you're just making random choices. Finally, the books just aren't well written.

# ? Nov 2, 2021 20:37

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Animorphs-Book 31-The Conspiracy

Ghostwritten by Laura Battyanyi-Wiess, who we've met before

Chapter 1

quote:

My name is Jake.

Just Jake.

My last name doesn�t matter.

Where I live and go to school don�t matter, either.

What matters is that we�re in a war, fighting for the survival of the human race.

You�re thinking Yeah, right. That�s okay. I know - I probably would have said the same thing once.

No way. Not a chance. If it�s true, then where are the troops storming the beaches? Where are the bombs? Where�s the battlefield? The RPVs and cruise missiles?

Well, it�s not that kind of a war.

The battlefield is wherever we are, we being my friends and I. We are animal-morphers, given the ability to absorb DNA by touch and then morph into that animal. It�s an incredible weapon, the kind that both dreams and nightmares are made of.

Ask Tobias, who stayed in his red-tailed hawk morph longer than the two-hour limit and now spends his days catching and eating small mammals.

Or check in with any one of us in the small hours between night and morning, when the nightmares come, the nightmares of twisting bodies and mutating minds.

Like I said, this is not your standard-type war.

We�re the whole army, the six of us. We get some help from the Chee, but they are incapable of violence, so when it comes to the down and dirty, we�re it. Us, alone, against an alien empire that has already terrorized the galaxy.

Yeah, I know. Nice odds.

Most of us learned to fight the hard way in a deadly, on-the-job-training-type deal.

But some of us had a head start, like my cousin Rachel, who loves it all. And Ax, whose full name is Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, warrior-cadet and younger brother to Elfangor, the Andalite who gave us the power to morph before he was murdered by Visser Three.

I know, sounds like bull, right? Sounds like maybe I need to spend some time in a rubber room.

But it�s true. Every now and then the crazy becomes real.

And this is not a clean war, if there is such a thing. I mean a war like World War II, where thousands saw the wrongs being committed and stood up to correct them. Where you attacked an enemy you could see, an enemy who wore a uniform and came right back at you, guns blazing.

This isn�t that kind of war at all.

The Yeerks are more subtle than that. They aren�t predators, they�re parasites. They don�t want to destroy humanity, they don�t want to make big piles of bodies, they need our bodies in one piece to continue their invasion.

See, they�re basically slugs. Parasites. No arms, no legs, no face. Blind.

That�s why they need host bodies.

They slither into your ear, seep into the crevices of your brain, open your memories.

And you�re still inside yourself while it�s happening, trapped, helpless, begging for the nightmare to end.

Only it�s real. And it doesn�t end.

You want to warn people and you can�t make the words come out. But the Yeerk in your head can hear them. It can hear your pitiful cries, your impotent threats. It can hear you beg, Please, please leave me, please get out of my head, please. � And it can feel you slowly surrendering even the pretense of resistance.

The Yeerks are everywhere, using their involuntary human hosts to move freely, to recruit new members into their cover organization called The Sharing with promises of good, clean, wholesome family fun.

They�re the ultimate enemy.

We�ve identified a few of them, though.

Our assistant principal, Mr. Chapman.

My best friend Marco�s mother.

My big brother, Tom.

I know how the guys fighting in the Civil War felt, North against South, brother against brother.

Living with the dark, ugly fact that if you met your brother on the battlefield, he would kill you. Unless you killed him first.

I know the real Tom is still inside himself somewhere, raging against the Yeerk holding him hostage, begging for someone to save him.

I know because I was infested once by the same Yeerk who�d first infested Tom before his body had been turned over to a new Yeerk. I had access to its memories, so I saw how Tom had been dragged, screaming, fighting, and finally pleading to the Yeerk pool to receive his slug.

I was saved. Tom was not.

But it stays with me, that memory. It always will.

So will the battles. Win, lose, or draw, they�re chaotic clashes full of pain and rage. And when the fighting�s over and the adrenaline drains away, you�re left exhausted and sick, with way too many memories.

My grandpa G - �G� for great-grandpa - told me something once, way before I ever could have understood what he�d meant.

My family had driven eight hours to visit him in his cabin in the woods. He and I were sitting on the dock at the lake, watching the fish snatch mosquitoes off the water�s glassy, mirrored surface.

And it was so quiet.

Quiet enough to make me wish I was home with the TV blasting and my dog Homer gnawing on a rawhide chew.

I was about to leave when Grandpa G said, �You know, I see myself in you, Jake. You�ve got an old soul.�

An old soul? Was that supposed to be good or bad?

He never said. Just gave me a small, kind of sad smile, and looked back out over the lake.

I hadn�t known what he�d meant then, or why he�d said it. I don�t know, maybe he saw my future, somehow. Because now I was old.
You see too much pain and destruction, you get old inside. It�s one of the by-products of war.

I�m the unofficial leader of the Animorphs. I send us into battle. When things go wrong, when we get hurt or have to run for our lives, that�s on me, too.

I�m not complaining. Has to be done. You know? Someone has to make the calls. A good leader has to make tough, informed decisions. Recognize his soldiers� special strengths and use them accordingly. Fight to win with the knowledge that he may die trying.

But most important, a leader won�t ask anyone to do anything he wouldn�t do himself.

That one came home to haunt me.

Because in three days, my brother Tom was either going to kill or be killed.

And it was up to me to decide.

Starts with the normal "You can't know where I live" opening, but it ends on quite a cliffhanger.

Chapter 2

quote:

I came around the corner after school and saw a taxi parked out in front of my house.

My mother shot across the porch, suitcase banging against her knees, and hurried down the sidewalk to the cab.

What the � ?

My mom didn�t take cabs. Nobody around here did.

Everybody had cars.

�Mom!� I yelled, jogging over. �What happened?�

Because something had definitely happened.

I mean, I�ve seen my mom sniffle at Save the Children infomercials and Hallmark cards, but I can�t remember the last time I ever saw her really cry.

But she was crying now.

Something must have happened to Tom.

Or to my dad.

My knees went weak and wobbly.

Funny, how even when your whole life has shifted into a daily Twilight Zone episode, there are still some things that can make you panic.

�I left you a note on the fridge, Jake,� she said, hefting her suitcase into the trunk and slamming it shut. �My flight leaves in an hour and the traffic -�

�Mom, what happened?� I blurted.

My voice was high and shrill, not exactly the voice of a fearless leader, as Marco would have pointed out, had he been there.

�Oh.� She blinked away fresh tears. �Grandpa G died. His housekeeper, Mrs. Molloy, found him this morning. I�m meeting your grandparents and we�re driving out to Grandpa G�s cabin to make the funeral arrangements.�

�Grandpa G�s dead?� I echoed, trying to wade through the emotions whirling around in my head.

Grandpa G. Not Tom. Not my father.

�Yes. His poor heart just gave out,� she said.

�You�re going to the cabin?� I said. �What about us?�

�You�ll be coming out as soon as your father clears his work schedule,� she said, touching my shoulder, forcing a brief smile, and sliding into the backseat. �He�ll tell you about it. Everything will be fine. Make sure your suit is clean. I�ll call when I get to Grandma�s. I gotta go, honey.�

She slammed the door and waved.

I watched as the cab disappeared around the corner.

Now what?

I headed into the house. Checked the scrawled note stuck under an apple magnet on the fridge.

Yeah. Grandpa G was dead.

According to Mrs. Molloy, who�d talked to the doctor, his heart had stopped while he was putting jelly on a slice of toast. He�d never even gotten a chance to eat it.

I shivered.

I�d cared about Grandpa G and now he was gone, and my family was smaller.

I didn�t like that.

The kitchen door burst open. Tom stormed into the room.

�And I�m telling you, Dad, I can�t go!� he snapped, tossing his books onto the table and scowling at me. �What�re you looking at?�

�You�re home early,� I said, surprised.

My father plodded in, weary, harassed, and closed the door behind him.

�So are you,� I said, glancing from him to Tom. �Did Mom tell you guys about Grandpa G?�

�Yes,� my father said. �I was hoping to get here in time to take her to the airport but the traffic was terrible. I saw Tom walking home and picked him up.�

�Did you know we�re supposed to go out to the cabin?� Tom demanded, glaring at me like it was somehow my fault.

�Uh, yeah,� I said cautiously, trying to figure out what his problem was. �So?�

�So, Tom�s already informed me that he doesn�t want to leave his friends to attend his greatgrandfather�s funeral,� my father said, looking at Tom, not me. �However, he doesn�t have a choice. We�re going. All of us.�

�When?� I said, feeling like I was missing something important. It was there but I just couldn�t grab it.

�We�re driving up Saturday morning,� my father said.

�Dad, I can�t,� Tom insisted. �The Sharing�s expecting me to help out this weekend. I gave them my word!�

�Well, you�ll just have to explain that something more important came up,� my father said. �I thought The Sharing was about promoting family values, right? Well, we�re going to pay our respects to Grandpa G as a family.�

�Dad, you don�t understand!� Tom argued desperately.

Why was Tom so dead set against going out to the lake?

Okay, so it was boring. Grandpa G�s cabin was the only house on the lake. His closest neighbor had been Mrs. Molloy and she lived seven miles away, halfway to town.

The only other house around was an old, abandoned hunting lodge across the lake.

No cable. No Taco Bell. No streetlights or crowds.

No movies. No malls � .

No Sharing. No Yeerks �

�Uh, Dad?� I said. �How long are we staying?�

�It depends on the funeral. I�ll write notes so you�ll be excused from school through Tuesday of next week -�

�What?� Tom�s eyes bulged in shock. �Tuesday? Dad, no way! Four days? I can�t stay away for four days!�

�You can and you will,� my father said, losing his patience. �We�re going as a family and that�s final.� Tom�s throat worked. His hands clenched into fists.

And for one brief second I had the crazy thought that he was going to attack my father.

And oh, man, even though I couldn�t morph in front of them, I could feel the surge of adrenaline that comes right before a fight.

Three, maybe four days. The maximum time a Yeerk can last without a trip to a Yeerk pool is three days. Four days without Kandrona rays and the Yeerk in Tom�s head would starve.

Starve, Yeerk. Starve!

�It won�t be that bad, Tom,� I heard myself pipe up. �The lake�s nice, remember?�

It broke the stalemate.

Tom looked at me. �You�re an idiot, you know that?�

He was playing his role as condescending big brother. I was playing my role, too.

Starve, Yeerk. Die in agony, die screaming, Yeerk!

�Shut up,� I said. �I�m not the one who�s being a big baby about leaving.�

I said it to annoy him and to bring us back to the rhythm we knew, the kind of normal sniping I could handle.

Because the hatred in Tom�s eyes when he�d looked at my father had scared me.

And the hatred that had flared up in me, the hatred of the Yeerk, the sick thrill of anticipating its pain, had scared me, too.

�That�s because you have no life,� Tom sneered.

�Oh, right, and you do?� I shot back.

�More than you�ll ever know,� he said darkly, distracted now.

�Enough,� my father said. �I�m going to change. When I get back we�ll order pizza. How does that sound?�

�I�m not hungry,� Tom muttered, staring at the floor.

I wasn�t either but my father was looking at me expectantly, so I said, �Pizza. I�m there.�

My father nodded, satisfied, and left.

I gave my brother a look of sympathy, making peace. �Maybe you can get out of it, some way.�

I had to fight to keep the sneer off my face. Or maybe, Yeerk, your cover is falling apart, maybe you�ll have to choose between keeping Tom and keeping your filthy life.

�Shut up,� Tom said absentmindedly. The Yeerk had no use for me, no interest in me. I was dismissed. Irrelevant.

I turned and blasted out into the backyard, my mind already buzzing with the possibilities.

Tom�s Yeerk was trapped. Under pressure. Squeezed. It wasn�t ready for this turn of events.

Didn�t know how to play it out. Didn�t know what to do.

An opportunity? Maybe. Yeah, maybe.

Die, Yeerk!

Obviously, it is an opportunity....get Tom away long enough for the Yeerk inside him to starve....well....

# ? Nov 3, 2021 03:51

Rosalie_A: Oct 30, 2011

I remember reading this one. If I recall correctly, this is an especially depressing one, even by the standards of this series and Jake books.

# ? Nov 3, 2021 04:25

Fuschia tude: Dec 26, 2004; THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

e X posted:

100%. I was at the edge of my seat. I know that they are eventually

It still would be nice to have future things in spoilers

# ? Nov 3, 2021 05:53

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

I think this is the book I most remember virtually nothing about (even though I've definitely read it at last twice)

# ? Nov 3, 2021 06:14

WrightOfWay: Jul 24, 2010

Oh man, Jake doesn't realize that if Tom's Yeerk isn't important enough to rate one of those portable pools they'll either take one or both of Jake's parents to get him out of going or consider him burnt and kill Tom. They definitely wouldn't just leave the Yeerk to starve and let Tom live.

# ? Nov 3, 2021 06:21

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

Yeah, this is what I believe is known as a no-win scenario.

# ? Nov 3, 2021 06:40

Ravenfood: Nov 4, 2011

WrightOfWay posted:

Oh man, Jake doesn't realize that if Tom's Yeerk isn't important enough to rate one of those portable pools they'll either take one or both of Jake's parents to get him out of going or consider him burnt and kill Tom. They definitely wouldn't just leave the Yeerk to starve and let Tom live.

I have to think that either he or one of the others (Cassie or Marco?) figure this out soon. Right now he is just jumping at a possible chance.

Also he will figure out that Tom can't actually be free for long. Unless they figure out a way to fake his death, he is getting reinfested asap.

# ? Nov 3, 2021 14:14

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 3

quote:

Supper was awful.

Tom tried everything to get out of going.

He begged. Pleaded. Complained. Sulked.

He even tried reasoning.

My father didn�t budge.

I finished supper and bolted. I needed to think about what was gonna happen and I couldn�t do it with Tom around.

I hit the sidewalk, automatically heading for Marco�s, but I really didn�t know where I was going.

I wanted to talk to Cassie, but she and her parents, both vets, were at some animal rescue seminar until later.

Too bad, too, because she was the one I really wanted to talk to.

Out of all of us, Cassie�s the one who really understands the more complicated things: motives, emotions, right and wrong.

Marco�s my best friend, and if I wanted to talk about what works, about how to get from point A to point B and forget the consequences, I�d talk to Marco.

But Cassie sees beneath the surface. I�m no genius, but I knew I was too close to this to see clearly.

�Yo, Jake man! I was just on my way over to your house.� Marco. Jogging toward me. �I need your English notes.�

I looked up, startled. �Oh. Uh, hi.�

�What�d I do, wake you up?� he said, body-checking me.

I shoved him back. �Since when did you start saying Yo�?�

�I was going to yell �Hey, handsome,� but I thought you might prefer �Yo.��

�Uh-huh.�

�So, yo-yo, what�s up?�

�I was just thinking about something,� I said, shrugging. Then I decided what the heck. Marco�s been my friend since we were in the sandbox. Plus, he�d lost his mom - complicated story - so I figured he�d know how I felt. �My Grandpa G died today.�

�Man. Too bad,� he said, falling in beside me as we headed back to my house. �He was old, though, right? I mean he was in World War III.�

�World War II, Marco. Two.�

�No, duh,� he said. �We spent a really unpleasant afternoon in the middle of World War II, you may recall. Or at least some time-distorted version of World War II.�

Long story there, too.

�Yeah, he was in the war. The real war,� I said as we rounded the corner to my house. �My mother flew out to help with the funeral arrangements. We�re supposed to -�

My father�s car wasn�t in the driveway.

Odd.

�When�s the funeral?� Marco said.

�I�m not sure. Probably Monday,� I said, walking a little faster. The deep, dark part of my brain, the part that sensed danger, was already dumping adrenaline into my blood.

Something wasn�t right.

�What?� Marco asked, instantly catching my mood.

�Don�t know. A feeling.�

A feeling like there was something important I�d forgotten. And because I had forgotten it �

I tried to shake it off. I walked faster. �I�ll be out of school Monday. Maybe Tuesday,� I said absently, crossing the front lawn. �Me, my dad, and Tom are driving out on Saturday morning.�

�That�s what, four days?� Marco said, then grabbed my arm. �Four days without Kandrona rays?� he said in a low, tense voice. �Does Tom know how long you�re gonna be gone?�

�Yeah, he and my dad had a big fight about it,� I said, tugging free. �My dad said he had to go.� And then Tom had looked at my father with black hatred.

No, not Tom. The Yeerk inside of him.

Controlling him.

Tom�s hands, doubled into fists.

Poised to leap at my father.

�You left them alone,� Marco said. Not an accusation. No blame. Just fact.

Like I said, Marco sees the line that goes from A to B. He�d already seen Tom�s dilemma. And he�d seen Tom�s ruthless solution.
I followed Marco�s narrowed gaze.

My house was still.

Too still.

I bolted, stumbled up the steps, and threw the door open with a slam that echoed down the street.

Reference there to the last Megamorphs. Also, leaving his dad and Tom alone together, not great.

Chapter 4

quote:

Silence.

The empty kind, when you know nobody�s there but you.

�Dad?� I yelled anyway, running into the hallway. �Dad? Tom?�

No answer.

Heart pounding, I took the stairs two at a time.

�Dad?�

Looked in my parents� bedroom. In Tom�s. In mine.

Neat - except for my room. Empty.

Which made me feel a little better, but not much.

�Jake,� Marco said from right behind me.

�Yaaahh!� I yelped, going airborne.

�Sorry.�

�Don�t do that!� I said harshly, pushing past him and heading back down the stairs to the kitchen.

I swung around, searching the kitchen for something, anything that would tell me where they�d gone.

Cabinets. Sink. Glass jars full of cookies and pasta and coffee, lined up on the counter. Coffee machine. Refrigerator. Toaster.

Orderly. Nothing out of place.

I exploded.

Slammed against the side of the refrigerator.

BAM!

One of the magnets fell off. The apple, which had been holding my mother�s note about Grandpa G.

Only the second note, the one that had been tacked beneath it, was gone. Had someone taken it?

Why, when it had the flight number and details about what to bring when we drove out?

The garbage.

Frantically, I grabbed the plastic can and flipped open the lid. Knelt and peered inside.

Lying crumpled atop the banana skins and the coffee grounds and the empty yogurt container was a wad of pink paper. Crumpled. I rose and smoothed it out on the counter.

The top of the note was the one from my mother with the flight information. At the bottom of that note was my father�s handwriting.

Jake: Went to a Sharing meeting with Tom to explain why he can�t help them out this weekend. Be back soon.

Love, Dad.

�Oh, God,� I whispered.

My father hadn�t thrown away the note. Tom had. He�d been covering his tracks.

Tom was taking my father to The Sharing.

But not so he could be excused from his obligations.

He was going to make our father a Controller. He would watch as they forced him to his knees and pushed his head down into the thick, sludgy Yeerk pool. He would listen to his pleas. Listen to his cries. His screams of horror and disbelief and panic. Listen and laugh.

No.

I started to shake.

I should have known. Should have seen it sooner. Marco had seen it, why hadn�t I?

�We have to find them,� I said, searching my mind frantically for a way to do it.

�How?� Marco said. �We don�t even know where they are.�

�Marco, this is my father!� I shouted, losing it. �I�m not letting them take him.�

�Even if we find him, you may not have anything to say about it,� he said quietly. �It might already be too late.�

No, it couldn�t be too late. Couldn�t �

No. They wouldn�t have my father. I was going to stop them. Even if it meant stopping my brother.

Any way I had to.

Marco re-crumpled the note and put it back in the trash.

Placed the apple magnet back on the fridge.

I stood there, frantic, vibrating with impatience, wanting to go, go, GO somewhere, anywhere, just get going and find my father.

�We have to cover our tracks, Jake,� he explained. �We can�t let Tom know that we know.�

�Right, whatever,� I said, hurrying toward the door.

I didn�t tell Marco, but at that moment I just didn�t care about keeping our secrets. I didn�t care about saving the world. I was saving one man. The rest of the world could take care of itself.

There were some losses I wasn�t willing to take, no matter what. I�d lost my brother. That was it. I wasn�t losing anyone else.

�The Chee,� I said suddenly.

I reached for the phone. Marco pushed the receiver back down. �Not from the house, man. Look. Jake. Jake, listen to me.�

�What? WHAT?�

�You�re the boss, Jake. You�re the fearless leader. But not right now, okay? You�re too messed up over this. Let me call the plays.�

I knew he was right. I said nothing. I hated Marco right then. Hated him because he wouldn�t have made the mistake I�d made. He would have seen �

Hated him because he�d already lost his mother and he knew what the inside of my head was like, because he knew I was scared and just wanted to cry.

�Come on, man,� Marco said.

We went down the block to a pay phone to call Erek King. He�s a Chee.

The Chee are a race of androids. Pacifist by design. But definitely anti-Yeerk. The ultimate spies. Our friends. At least as much as a nearly eternal machine can ever be a friend to a weak, shortlived human.

The Chee would know of any Sharing meetings scheduled.

�There�s nothing scheduled,� the human-sounding voice said.

�But there has to be,� I said desperately, pacing the length of the stupidly short phone cord. �Tom�s taking my father to it! C�mon, Erek, please!�

�Jake, you know I would tell you if I knew,� Erek said with calm regret. �Perhaps Tom asked for an emergency meeting to deal with this problem.�

�Then how are we ever gonna find out where they are?� I said, glancing at Marco to see if he had any suggestions.

He shrugged, looking miserable.

I turned away, wanting to cry.

Fighting to get hold of myself.

Think, Jake.

If the Chee didn�t know where the Yeerks were gathering, how were we supposed to know?

�Wait,� I blurted. �Stupid! I don�t have to find the Yeerks to find my father. All I have to do is find my father and we�ll find the meeting. Should have thought of it.�

�All right,� Erek said cautiously.

�No, it�s easy. He always carries a cell phone. I�ll just call and ask him -�

�You can�t,� Marco and Erek both said at the same time.

�Why not?� I said.

�Jake, if you call and ask your dad where he is, and then the meeting gets broken up by us, don�t you think the Yeerks�ll put two and two together?�

�I don�t care,� I said, before I could stop myself.

The sympathy on Marco�s face evaporated. �You�re not getting me killed to save your father!� he snapped.

�There may be another way,� Erek said, interrupting. �Give me the cell phone number. You hang up, dial the cell phone, and I�ll tap into the frequency. You call but don�t speak. If your father picks up, I�ll analyze the auditory data and we may be able to determine his location.�

I didn�t look at Marco. Couldn�t. �Good. Great.� I gave Erek the number, hung up, and dialed my father�s cell phone number.

It rang once.

Twice.

My hands were shaking.

Marco was staring at me, eyes narrowed. His body was tense, ready to snatch the receiver if I as much as opened my mouth.

I closed my eyes, willing my father to answer.

Praying it wasn�t too late.

To think, if Tom had just pocketed the note instead of thrown it in the trash, Jake wouldn't have had any leads.

I feel like this works well, considering the previous book. In the last book, Marco's personal relationships got in the way of his ability to complete his mission, and Jake ended up being the one to save him. Now, it's Jake who's too close to the situation, and Marco taking charge.

# ? Nov 4, 2021 03:40

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Something about the truncated, almost every sentence being a paragraph, airport thriller style of writing here is really grating to me. edit - and I just checked and this is the same ghostwriter as 27, the giant squid book, and I can't say I noticed it in that one.

(And "supper"? I've never heard them call dinner that, is it some regionalism of the ghostwriter's that slipped through?)

# ? Nov 4, 2021 03:52

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

freebooter posted:

(And "supper"? I've never heard them call dinner that, is it some regionalism of the ghostwriter's that slipped through?)

Because I care, I looked it up, doing a word search through all the Animorph books, and you're right. This is the only book that uses the word supper. I didn't really notice, because I (east coast of the US) have heard supper and dinner used pretty much interchangeably.

eta: I did a discord poll, and apparently, most people I asked don't use supper at all, and the person who mentioned having heard it used said that it was mostly used by old people .when he was young.

Epicurius fucked around with this message at 05:29 on Nov 4, 2021

# ? Nov 4, 2021 04:15

Comrade Blyatlov: Aug 4, 2007; should have picked four fingers

This.... isn't what I remember of this book at all. I might be conflating a few of them in my head, but I guess this means I'm strapping in!!!

# ? Nov 4, 2021 04:28

Malpais Legate: Oct 1, 2014

Comrade Blyatlov posted:

This.... isn't what I remember of this book at all. I might be conflating a few of them in my head, but I guess this means I'm strapping in!!!

Yeah, same. I think I got this confused with the book that introduced Erek, where Tom goes on that retreat with the Sharing?

This is firmly in iffy territory for me re: if I read it as a child.

# ? Nov 4, 2021 04:35

pile of brown: Dec 31, 2004

The supper thing was really jarring to me also, and both Jake and Marco seem really out of character in their dialogue

# ? Nov 4, 2021 05:09

GodFish: Oct 10, 2012; We're your first, last, and only line of defense. We live in secret. We exist in shadow.

And we dress in black.

Supper isn't usual here (pnw) but I wouldn't blink if someone used it

# ? Nov 4, 2021 06:28

HIJK: Nov 25, 2012; in the room where you sleep

Supper is a very common word for the night time meal, it's interchangeable with dinner.

# ? Nov 4, 2021 07:42

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

The only people who should be saying "supper" are the posh children in an Enid Blyton book circa 1910

# ? Nov 4, 2021 08:19

Fuschia tude: Dec 26, 2004; THUNDERDOME LOSER 2019

Epicurius posted:

I didn't really notice, because I (east coast of the US) have heard supper and dinner used pretty much interchangeably.

eta: I did a discord poll, and apparently, most people I asked don't use supper at all, and the person who mentioned having heard it used said that it was mostly used by old people .when he was young.

Yeah, that's my experience too. It's not weird, but it is unusual. I live on the east coast too though :tinfoil:

# ? Nov 4, 2021 08:26

dungeon cousin: Nov 26, 2012; woop woop
loop loop

freebooter posted:

Definitely. It goes to show that even the two of them who get along the least are still... not friends, but certainly family to each other, who 100% will always have each other's backs. I also really like how this echoes 15, where she's again the one who maybe saw his mum surviving and tells him about it. (I actually remembered this one ending with the two of them watching Xena... was that a different book?)

I definitely remember that being an ending to a Rachel book and I'm guessing it might be the sea star book. I didn't get to read any other books past Megamorphs 3 so I'm fairly confident it's that one. Oh wait, I did also read the sea civilization book.

# ? Nov 4, 2021 10:28

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

I'm glad that wasn't some half-remembered head canon! But I don't think it's that one because I remember that ending with Rachel and Tobias. If it hasn't already happened, it might be the end of the one where Rachel is left in charge while Jake is out of town and seriously fucks it up because she's too reckless and it's basically about how she's not cut out for leadership. Which is kind of nice because it's Marco coming to her rather than the other way round. I think even if they don't quite like each other, they definitely get each other.

# ? Nov 4, 2021 10:35

Cythereal: Nov 8, 2009; I love the potoo,
and the potoo loves you.

Southerner here, 'supper' is what I grew up calling the meal most of the time. 'Dinner' is reserved for if you're doing something fancy for the evening meal.

# ? Nov 4, 2021 12:27

Bobulus: Jan 28, 2007

3 generations of midwesterners here, and we all use supper and dinner interchangably.

...

I saw this on my dash and was compelled to share it:

# ? Nov 4, 2021 18:58

Grammarchist: Jan 28, 2013

Yeah, it was always "supper" in Southern Indiana too. Dinner was more of a "Sunday Best for Applebees" thing.

# ? Nov 4, 2021 20:06

QuickbreathFinisher: Sep 28, 2008; by reading this post you have agreed to form a gay socialist micronation.
`

only people I remember saying "supper" in eastern Pennsylvania were some very religious friends of the family that I had dinner with once. I understood from context or maybe having heard it before but it was definitely not usual and I only really ever heard religious ppl using it, so it always had that association for some reason.

e: vvvv that's right!

QuickbreathFinisher fucked around with this message at 02:40 on Nov 5, 2021

# ? Nov 4, 2021 22:09

GodFish: Oct 10, 2012; We're your first, last, and only line of defense. We live in secret. We exist in shadow.

And we dress in black.

The SA Forums > The Book Bran > Let's Read Animorphs! Book 31 - The Conspiracy: A discussion on the regional use of supper

# ? Nov 4, 2021 22:19

OctaviusBeaver: Apr 30, 2009; Say what now?

If this doesn't escalate to threats of violence and banning I'm gonna be real disappointed.

# ? Nov 4, 2021 22:26

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Bobulus posted:

I saw this on my dash and was compelled to share it:

The cowards left the "andalite trousers" question unresolved

# ? Nov 5, 2021 03:26

Epicurius: Apr 10, 2010; College Slice

Chapter 5

quote:

�Hello?�

Tom.

Tom had answered my father�s cell phone.

My mouth opened automatically to respond.

Marco lunged, twisting the phone out of my hand.

Put it to his ear.

Watched me with dark, unreadable eyes.

I didn�t move. I couldn�t.

Because I couldn�t believe what I had almost done.

If I�d said one word, just one, then I�d either have condemned my father to the Yeerk pool or I would have condemned my friends to death.

I couldn�t stop shaking.

Couldn�t get control.

Marco listened, then hung up the receiver.

�You�d better call Erek back,� he said coolly, stepping away from the phone.

I nodded, too embarrassed to even look at him, too worried about my father to say something that would close the distance between us.

�I�ve analyzed the incoming data from the call and have narrowed it down to four possible locations,� Erek said when I called.

�Four!� I blurted. We didn�t have time to search four different places! �Where are they?�

�Well, factoring in the frequency strength, the cell phone towers that were activated, and background noise such as the sound of jet engines overhead, car engines moving slowly, human footsteps, and various other sounds, our analysis suggests they�re in the northern section of town, roughly between the eight thousand and the fourteen thousand blocks north-south, and the six hundred and twelve hundred block east-west. An area six blocks by six blocks.�

�What�s in that area that could hold a meeting, even a small one?� I was grateful. I was also impatient. Frantic.

�Senior Citizen Center, a small strip mall with four stores, a small hardware store, and an autobody shop. Plus, about seventy-five private homes.�

I let out a curse. �Homes! We can�t search seventy-five homes! Erek, I need more.�

�There was a snatch of conversation. Just two words.�

�What words?�

��Normal hours.��

�What?�

��Normal hours.� Like the last two words of a sentence. Blah, blah, blah, �normal hours,�� Erek said.

I had a sudden flash of him on the other end of the line. Would he be in his true android form, or wreathed in the perfect hologram that let him pass as a normal human kid?

�Eliminate the auto-body shop,� Marco said. �That�d be noisy. Real noisy. If they�re open, that is. Same with the hardware. Nails dropping, paint cans being shaken � It�s the old folks� home or the mini-mall.�

�Or one of seventy-five private homes,� I said. �Erek? We need your best guess.�

�I don�t have-�

�Take a shot!� I yelled.

�The mini-mall. Four stores. Play the odds,� Erek said.

�Get hold of Rachel. Get her and the others up there to the other locations.�

I slammed down the phone. No time for thank-yous. There�d be thank-yous if we won this race.

�Mini-mall,� I told Marco.

�What about the old folks? They�d have a main room. Stores wouldn�t.�

��Normal hours.� Sounds like a store.�

�Unless it�s about mealtime, or visiting time at the old folks� home,� Marco said.

�Let�s go,� I said.

We jogged back to my house. It was the closest, safest place with no one home.

I stripped off my outer clothing - getting down to bike shorts and a T-shirt. The kind of tight, minimal clothing we can morph in.

I focused my mind on one of the double-helix strands of DNA that swim in my blood.

When I opened my eyes, I was falling. Shrinking. And no matter how many times it had happened before, it still made my stomach lurch.

Smaller and smaller, with the floor racing up to slap me, falling like I�d jumped off a skyscraper.

My skin turned gray and white, mottled. Across the dead gray flesh the Etch-A-Sketch lines of feathers were drawn. An eerie design that suddenly was no drawing but three-dimensional reality. My eyes slid apart, around my head. Eyes that could read a dictionary from a block away. Raptor eyes. Falcon eyes.

My legs shriveled, becoming mere sticks. My fingers extended out, bare hollow bone that was quickly covered by feathers. Tail feathers erupted from my behind, down my chest, down my back and stomach.

Marco was undergoing a similar mutation. Morphing. It�s what we do. It�s our weapon.

He was becoming an osprey, I, a peregrine falcon.

Marco began to say something, but his words were cut short as his mouth and nose melted and stiffened and extended into the wicked, curved beak of an osprey.

My talons sprouted, grew curved and sharp.

<I�ll meet you there,> I said.

<No, wait.>

<Marco, I�m faster than you are.>

He hesitated. <Yeah. Okay. But Jake?>

<What?!> I snapped.

I expected him to say, �Don�t do anything stupid.�

<You�re not alone, man,> Marco said.

Sometimes knowing you're not alone is the best thing you can know. Also, what Erik is doing here is basic cell phone triangulation. which works pretty much the same way as GPS. Cell phones send radio signals to towers. By figuring out how long it takes for the signal to get to each tower, you can plot that and get a good idea of where the phone is. This is more accurate now than when the book was written. In fact, it became a problem and still sort of is. If you call 911 from a cell phone, and don't give a location, it's harder for them to narrow your actual location down. Things are, like I said, a lot better now, but they're still not perfect.

Chapter 6

quote:

Peregrine falcon. The fastest animal on Earth. In a dive I could hit two hundred miles an hour. But I was a sprinter, not a marathoner. To get to the north end of town I had to soar. Not easy in the evening when the sun has cooled and he concrete no longer steams the air to provide lift for a raptor�s wings.

I flew hard, circling for altitude. Marco kept pace at first, but then he fell behind and below.

When you�re flying, altitude equals speed. Tobias taught me that. Spend the energy to gain altitude, then you can turn a long trip into a single glide.

I rose and rose, milking every breeze to give lift to my swept-back wings. Up I went. And at last, boiling with impatience, I made gravity my friend.

I could not see my specific target but I could see the area, the neighborhood. I took aim, whipped my wings, and went into a power glide.

Faster, faster!

The wind tore across my feathers. Around my face. Blearing my eyes. Straining my muscles. One wrong move, one sudden flare of my wings and the speed could snap my shoulders, cripple me, leave me falling, helpless to Earth.

I was a race car driver. One wrong twitch of the wheel and I would spin out of control.

No way to measure my speed, but I was flying faster than I�d ever flown before. The ground raced by. Porch lights and streetlights and bright red taillights were long neon trails.

I was outpacing the cars on the highway below. But I was too low. I�d misjudged the angle. In my haste I�d not gone high enough, and now I was too low, skimming the treetops and peaked roofs and telephone wires, blazing, a rocket!

My muscles burned, my heart was a jackhammer, my lungs burned.

I blew across the mini-mall before I even realized I was there. I braked carefully, took a wide turn, and circled back.

A Starbucks. No. Too public.

A knife shop. Closed. Dark.

Computer Renaissance. Open. Bright. A possibility.

An antique store. Lights on. Half shades drawn up. Two men walking in past a sign that said CLOSED.

I used the last of my speed to buzz the cars in the lot. The lot was full. My dad�s car was there.

I landed in the shadows behind the mini-mall. I began to demorph. How to do it? How to attack and get my dad out? What morph, what creature?

My feet sprouted first, pink and bare and huge.

My eyes straddled my bulging, human nose, which had split away from my shrinking beak.

I shot upward as my legs thickened and grew.

Hair. Fingers.

My insides gurgled and sloshed sickeningly.

An osprey landed on an overturned crate.

I was fully human. Standing with bare feet on gravel and crumpled cans and scruffy weeds.

I glanced at Marco. He was beginning to demorph.

I began to morph. I felt the powerful, tiger DNA stir in my pulsing blood. Sharp, gleaming fangs sprouted in my mouth. Claws that could disembowel a bull grew from my fingertips. it-

<No,> Marco said. <We can�t go storming in like the marines, Jake! It�s too obvious.>

I was still more human than tiger. The yellow teeth, saber sharp, made speech clumsy. �I�m koink in!�

<Jake, I will have to try and stop you,> Marco said.

We stared at each other for a long, tense moment. A half tiger and a half osprey.

Marco became fully human. I stopped my morph.

�Look,� Marco said finally, quietly. �I know you�re freaked but if we make this a rescue mission, we�re all dead. All of us. Everyone. The Yeerks aren�t idiots. They go after your dad and suddenly the Animorphs attack a minor meeting? They can add two plus two, Jake. You let the Yeerks know who you are, Jake, how is that gonna help your father?�

He was right. I knew it but I didn�t want to hear it.

�We have to create a distraction. Mess up the meeting but not let them know why,� Marco said, as thick, coarse hair began sprouting from his bulging, growing body. �We�re gonna buy some time and I�ve got it all planned. Do your falcon morph again. Your eyes will be better than mine.�

�But -� I said.

�No buts, Jake,� he said. �You know me. You know I�ve worked it out.�

I hesitated, frustrated and not used to being the one taking orders, but I couldn�t deny that he was right.

I was losing my clear thinking and that was dangerous.

Surrendering, I concentrated on the falcon morph.

Marco finished his massive, muscled gorilla morph and waited, standing guard until I was done.

<Okay,> I said. <Ticktock, Marco.>

<Well, Rachel�s not here so I guess it�s up to me,> Marco said, knuckle-galloping his way around to the front of the mini-mall. <Let�s do it!>

He stepped out into the parking lot. I flew, watching from above.

My father and my brother were close by. One predator, the other prey. Both, in different ways, in mortal danger.

And if they were to be saved, it was up to Marco. Not me.

Again, Jake is too close to the situation. It's complicated also because he's used to being in charge, so having to listen to Marco is harder. The difference is, unlike the last book, Jake knows he can't be objective.

# ? Nov 5, 2021 05:25

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

quote:

�Eliminate the auto-body shop,� Marco said. �That�d be noisy. Real noisy. If they�re open, that is.

Well they're hardly going to be open after the suppering hour

# ? Nov 5, 2021 06:06

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ? May 28, 2024 12:19

Bibliotechno Music: Dec 30, 2008

I like the conjunction of the last two books. I originally read them as they were released, a month apart, so I didn�t notice back then that we went straight from Marco�s mom to Jake�s dad. Not only that, but their parents are post-infestation and pre-infestation. It�s also nice to get the two best friends alone together; even though their friendship is explicitly mentioned all over the books, we very rarely get to see their dynamic outside of the group.

Re: supper, I hear it sometimes but mostly from Olds. Iirc, dinner used to be the midday meal while supper was in the evening, but in agricultural settings the midday meal was the biggest meal of the day for farmworking reasons. Now we have the biggest meal of the day in the evening, but still call the biggest meal �dinner.�

It�s me, I�m the one still serioussupperposting.

# ? Nov 5, 2021 14:04

The Something Awful Forums > Archives > Comedy Goldmine > Let's Read Animorphs! The Whole Series! Ch-ch-ch-chaaanges

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