There were no Chinese-checkers game on this trip; it was just a matter of getting far enough outside Earth's atmosphere to jump safely in and out of Z-space, doing it, and then coming back down. The whole thing took less than an hour – at least, that was what Anifal said, although it turned out to be almost midnight in our world when we landed. Chester said that was because time-flow rate varies incrementally according to a universe's vibratory frequency, but personally I think the Ellimists' meddling with that other universe had something to do with it, too.

Anyway, Abby managed to demorph just fine, so we didn't worry much about it; we just morphed to bat and headed back to our respective homes. Anifal headed west to his scoop, and Abby went northeast to the lakefront villa where she lives with her grandmother; Richard followed us due north for a little while, but then turned aside to his family's tiny little house at the far end of Timber Lane. (That's the long and winding dirt road where we met Elfangor; it used to be the main path for woodcutters through the forest, back before our town was a town.)

So, for the last ten minutes or so, it was just Josh and me flying together. We could barely see each other, of course, but I could feel his wings beating the air next to me, and he showed up in my peripheral echolocation, or whatever you'd call it. Anyway, I was aware of him.

And I guess he was aware of me, too, because, a little bit after Richard left, Josh said, «You holding up okay, Elly?»

It surprised me, a little bit, but I said, «Sure. Why?»

«Just checking,» said Josh. «You've had a pretty long day today, Anifal said.»

You don't know the half of it, I thought. «Well, yeah, the fugue was pretty rough, of course. I'm pretty sure I'm fine now, though.»

«Good,» said Josh.

I wanted him to say more – maybe What was it like? or I wish I could have been with you, or something soft and personal like that. But he didn't – and, somehow, it didn't hurt as much that he didn't as it would have the day before. Seeing his thread in the palant had made a real difference; I thought I understood, now, why he tried so hard to see me as a Morph Forcer rather than as his sister. I still wished he wouldn't (as much for his sake, now, as for mine), but it no longer felt like hostility or rejection; it was just that he didn't know how to love me the way he should and still be ready to send me into life-threatening danger at a moment's notice. And my job, now, was to help him solve that problem by being the best sister and lieutenant to him that I could, so that, maybe, somewhere along the line, something that I did or said could turn a key in his brain, and he could think, Oh, so that's how I was supposed to be doing it all this time.

Granted, it wasn't an impressive, dynamic job, and it probably wouldn't be much fun most of the time, either. But it was the kind of love that he needed from me, and that was what mattered.

So we flew in silence for another eight minutes or so, until the echolocation image of our house came into earshot. Josh alighted on the outside sill of his own bedroom window, and I swooped around and landed on my own.

«Sleep tight, Elly,» came Josh's voice in my head. (His tone sounded ironic, which made sense; as far as our bodies were concerned, after all, it was still mid-afternoon.)

«Save me a dream,» I replied.

I'm not sure why I said that; maybe it was just in my head, since the other Josh had said it to me the past two nights. Anyway, instead of making the usual reply, Josh let out a little, weary sigh and said, «Yeah, that's the goal, Elly. That's definitely the goal.»

It took me a minute, but I got it – and it made me shudder. Save me a dream: well, whatever dream I had – whatever dreams any human had – they all depended on the possibility of a free humanity. The Hork-Bajir had lost their dreams when their world had fallen to the Yeerks – and the whole reason why Josh was fighting this war (and risking his own dreams in the process) was so that ours could be saved. That was where his mind went, when I threw out that silly little bit of childhood nostalgia.

I closed my eyes, and said a silent prayer – for him, for me, for us all. Then I took a deep breath, raised my head, and peeked in through my window.

What moon there was was shining in behind me, so I could see the inside of my room pretty well. It was pretty much the way I'd left it, a week before – or that morning in the other universe, for that matter. The only part that I hadn't already seen was the replica of myself lying apparently asleep in my bed – and, at this point, I was pretty much inured even to that.

I tapped a claw on the window. «Hello?» I said. «Katy?»

"Oh, Elly, there you are," said the image in my bed. My face flickered away to reveal Katy's luminous metal muzzle, and she got up and came over to let me in.

«Sorry we're so late,» I said as I crawled through the window. «Something happened with the ship while…»

"I know," Katy whispered. "Chester sent a message over the Chee-net when you came out of Z-space. Don't worry about it; just hurry up and demorph before we wake your parents."

I nodded, fluttered down to the floor, and focused on becoming human again. Once I'd done that, I went over to my dresser, took out my nightgown (surreptitiously slipping the Ssstram-ship twig into my treasure chest as I did so), and put it on.

Then I turned to Katy, and sighed. "Well," I said, "now all you have to do is sneak out again – and all I have to do is convince my body that it wants to be fast asleep the way it's supposed to be."

"Actually, I think I can help you with that," said Katy. She pulled back my comforter, and gestured to the bed. "Lie down. On your stomach, preferably."

"Huh?" Then I remembered my double, in the clearing. "Oh. Fitillikar."

"I see our reputation precedes me," said Katy with an android grin. "Yes, fitillikar. I had a feeling you'd be needing it, so I've been re-accessing some very old subroutines indeed. Come on, now, time for beddy-bye."

I rolled my eyes, but lay down on the bed and stretched myself out face-down the way she wanted. It was an awkward feeling (I usually prefer to sleep curled up on my side), but then I felt Katy's metal fingers begin to dance across my neck and shoulders, and in a few seconds I was a million miles away from any kind of discomfort whatever.

They say that dreams you tell never come true, which is why I'm not going to say what I dreamed about that night. All I'll say is that I woke up seven hours later without a trace of inter-dimensional jet lag, and with that special kind of contentment that comes from having spent the night with everything in the universe that's sweet and true and beautiful.

Of course, I knew it wasn't going to last. I knew that there were more weeks and months and maybe years of war still ahead, and that I had plenty of tears and nightmares and quiet desperation still in store for me. But the thing about the Morph Force – and about all of life, I guess, if you live it right – is that it teaches you to take the little bits of happiness as they come, and not let memory or anticipation spoil them for you.

So I took a deep breath, smiled up at the sunbeams creeping over my ceiling, and whispered, "Well, let's get a move on, sleepy-head. You've got dreams to save."

And I raised myself from the bed, threw on the fuzzy pink bathrobe that Katy had thoughtfully draped over my bedpost, and headed out to see what the day would bring.

FIN

Further adventures of the Morph Force recounted in:

The Perception

The Perception