(Disclaimer: I don't own Animorphs, obviously, and I don't own the image of Visser Three that I incorporated into the image for this story. These are the property of Scholastic/K.A. Applegate.)
Earth date: March 31, 1968
The Yeerk was aware.
Aware of motion, currents, ripples, of the waves that buoyed and buffeted him. Aware of the rich panorama of smells that reached his palps.
Instinct drove him to emit a series of high-pitched squeaks, sounds that ricocheted off the hundreds of bodies in his vicinity before traveling back to him with their wealth of information. Instinct also told him that each of the endless multitude of shapes was a member of his own kind.
And instinct drove him to connect, stretching out his palps toward the nearest echolocated silhouette, the nearest source of organic scent.
They touched, warm slippery palp to palp, and the neural signals began to transmit.
It was the Yeerk's own reflection, an extension of himself, familiar in every way, and yet still a different being entirely. The absorbent, questing newborn mind was similar to his own. Instinct again informed him of the other Yeerk's significance, for this was his own twin, his complementary half, they had come into the world together, one grub split in two. For a moment the twins lingered, basking in joyful recognition of one another.
Then, having satisfied their curiosities for now, they broke the connection. Driven to explore once more, they each set off in a different direction.
The newborn Yeerk quickly found another to associate with. Familiar with the process now, he eagerly stretched forth his palps. This Yeerk was different. Smelled different. Not as familiar as the last one. Not a genetic relation. But young also, almost as young as the newborn himself.
The other Yeerk emitted a series of squeaks, not echolocation squeaks, these were new sounds, much more varied in rhythm and pitch. The newborn Yeerk was startled, confused.
Through the palp connection a vague thought transferred, an idea, an intimation of something about to happen, something important and inevitable.
Then the connection was again broken, and new palps joined with the newborn's. Larger palps. Rougher palps. And, the newborn began to realize, older palps. Then the thoughts came pouring through the connection, rapidly filling the newborn's mind as he struggled to make sense of all the new information.
Knowledge. So much knowledge. About his species. Their biology, their history, their culture, their politics. A context for when and where he was in the universe. For his was no ordinary generation of Yeerks. They were the first to be born aboard ship, away from the homeworld, in artificial pools.
The first to be born into war.
But most importantly … the older Yeerk told him who he was.
Esplin 9466 the primary twin.
After what seemed like ages, the older Yeerk broke the palp connection, and Esplin turned back to the Yeerk with whom he had been communing before, the one near his own age.
That Yeerk now squeaked again. "Are you able to understand me now? I am Tarak-Nine-Three-Seven-Five."
And Esplin realized that he did indeed understand. Speech! Not an instinct like his sonar, but something he had needed to learn from another Yeerk. But learned it he had — the knowledge of language itself had rushed into his mind along with everything else.
"I am Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six," he tried to say, but the squeaks came out all wrong, they were gibberish. He knew what they were supposed to sound like, but getting his voice to cooperate was another matter entirely.
It was Tarak's turn to be confused. "What?"
"Your speech will improve with practice," the older Yeerk reassured Esplin. "So will your ability to send clearly defined thoughts via palp-to-palp communication. Now where did that twin of yours get off to—oh, there he is—" and with that, he swam away.
"Brother!" Esplin exclaimed. He had practiced talking with Tarak until his speech had become mostly intelligible. But after all that time, he had begun to miss his twin, the one with whom he shared everything ... even a name.
"My brother," replied Esplin the secondary twin. "I have met another sibling of ours. This is Hekliss-Eight-Two-Seven-Five." He pointed with a palp to the Yeerk accompanying him, holding the gesture long enough to be picked up by his twin's next echolocation blast.
"I too have met another Yeerk. Not our sibling," said Esplin primary. "This is my friend Tarak-Nine-Three-Seven-Five."
Esplin and Hekliss touched palps. Yes, she was a sibling. The familial connection was strong, albeit not as strong as the twins'. Hekliss seemed to have a different temperament: she was calmer, more peaceful, more deeply aware than the twins. Esplin sensed that quality in her, and appreciated it — she would definitely be an asset to the group.
"Shall we seek out more companions?" Hekliss queried.
Esplin surveyed the other three Yeerks briefly. "I think four is a good number," he said. "Let us get to know one another more fully. We can always change our minds if we end up feeling incomplete as a quartet."
"Agreed," seconded his twin.
Tarak felt unsure—it seemed rather unbalanced, a group of three siblings plus one. He began to feel very much the outsider. But the Yeerk called Esplin had welcomed him without hesitation. Maybe this would work out.
And if not, well, they were young, having newly emerged into what was a wonderfully huge pool of possibility to them. There was plenty of time to figure out who they were and with whom they wanted to associate.
Yes, Tarak thought, there is no rush, and he swam to catch up with his ready-made group of friends.