1.
Memories rushed back at him, riffled through as if the Yeerk was scanning through an old-fashioned computer archive. Then more slowly, like turning the pages of a book.
If Alloran focused, he could summon up other memories to take their place. But did they really serve to distract the Yeerk, or just overload his own brain, like a computer running too many programs? He focused on Jahar-no, not that, the Yeerk would use it against him. Better to revisit the Hork-Bajir homeworld, latch onto the satisfaction of completing the quantum virus.
At the same time, curled up in the crevices of Alloran's brain, the Yeerk was reaching for an older memory. The Andalite homeworld? ‹What need have you of those days?› he snorted. ‹I was young then, a fool of an aristh. There's nothing there-›
He cut himself off; no sense in telling the Yeerk he was on a foolish mission when the Sub-Visser could waste time and power identifying it for himself.
There he was, sparring with Feyorn and laughing. Playing tricks on his instructors. Deking his opponents during a heated driftball match.
And there, sneaking out after class, acquiring the kafit bird to have an extra morph, a way to take to the skies.
‹No, you-› he broke off as the Yeerk called upon the DNA still drifting within his body, as his blade shrivelled away and his legs fell towards the dust of the Taxxon homeworld.
Well, the kafit had evolved on their Andalite homeworld. It would be out of place under the grim Taxxon sky. Perhaps some chemical in the atmosphere would be fatal; then he could be free from the Controller. That would probably be an improvement.
Yet even his inmost thoughts were not secret from the Yeerk. ‹Fool! Your aristh has already proven the efficacy of this morph.›
His aristh?Before Alloran could tell what that meant, the wings had sprouted from his body, and the impatient Yeerk took to the air, the remnants of his stalk eyes drooping low before fading.
They whirled through the sky, Alloran calling the Jahar to mind. So many dimensions, so many ways to move, yet no degrees of freedom at all.
2.
A rank of Taxxons made their way through the trees, gliding out of their way every so often to gnaw at passing animals.
‹Onward!› the Visser demanded. ‹It is not far.›
‹One of these days, Visser,› Alloran silently chimed in, ‹you will get too close to one of these beasts. And it will destroy you.›
‹You'd like that, won't you?› he privately responded.
"You saw it hours ago," one of the Taxxons complained. "Are you sure it hasn't moved?"
‹It is slow of foot,› he announced, ‹or tentacle, or generalized locomotor appendage.›
"Then what do you need it for?"
‹Quelling any problems among the Hork-Bajir hosts. They fear this creature and-›
Suddenly, from above, what seemed like a vine dropped down and caught one of the Taxxon-Controllers around the neck. The Yeerk fumbled for its Dracon beam, but only succeeded in twisting its host body even farther out of proportion until it went limp.
‹Positions, you useless horde, and fire! On the lowest setting!› the Visser roared. Despite themselves, the Taxxons scrambled backwards and complied; several shots missed the Lerdethak, but enough hit that it slumped backwards.
The Visser gallopped forward and placed a hand on it. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was actually going into the morphing trance, since it had been stunned already, but the Visser pronounced himself satisfied and retreated, the shaken Taxxons falling in line behind him.
‹Well done,› Alloran taunted. ‹How many more of your own troops will you spend on intimidating simple Hork-Bajir?›
‹I would have thought you would have known the value of long-term sacrifices, War-Prince,› the Visser said coolly. ‹Have we not been long enough on this planet? Shall we revisit your old battlefields?›
Alloran's thought-speak voice stiffened. ‹Do whatever you wish. By all means, have a nostalgic tour, and waste the Empire's time with it.›
3.
The homeworld looked small, at apoapsis, its red and gold clouds more easily seen in a false-color image produced by the Yeerk computers. Or a memory.
They had been journeying for years, in and out of Z-Space, real space, and it chafed to be so close to home but no farther from freedom than when he'd started. Still, the lunar excursion was by some distance the most reckless yet. And anything that risked the Yeerks' safety was a sign of progress.
They made their way through the dark waters in a small underwater boat, an interesting cross between its crude fuel-burning engine and the high-powered Imperial sensors. "Herrre we arrre, sirrr," said the Gedd-Controller who was analyzing the data.
‹Well done. Wait until I am out of the way, disable this creature and tow it to the surface; I will meet you there.›
"Of courrrrse, Visserrr."
The Visser made his way to the double-layered exit chamber, opened the first door, closed it behind him, and began morphing into a simple aquatic creature as he opened the second. He swam upwards, relying on its instincts to guide him to the lunar surface.
Surely the Andalites had a base nearby and would detect the infiltration? Or were they so convinced in their own security that a plan as audacious as the Visser's had never occurred to them? Or could the Yeerks have infiltrated the homeworld itself? ‹I'd know,› Alloran told himself, ‹you'd be bragging about it...›
The Visser made no reply.
They broke the surface and dipped back down again, waiting until the submarine craft and the dazed Mardrut were nearby. Swimming on top of its body to grab ahold, the Visser awkwardly demorphed, immediately acquired the Mardrut, and stumbled back into the boat before they sailed off to meet the spaceship.
‹You continue to think these are just chances for me to borrow DNA?› he asked.
‹If they're not, you really have a lot of work to do to convince me otherwise.›
‹Well, I'm sorry to meet your expectations. But this journey will provide an excellent opportunity for us to establish an outpost here. Once this moon is secured, your homeworld will follow.›
4.
Antares hung red in the sky, the supergiant drowning out the light of its companion star. On the surface of the planet beyond, the air was thick and uncomfortable for almost all of the visiting species.
The Yeerks had had no firsthand dealings of the creatures that had evolved here, making a visit only on the recommendation of a chatty Skrit Na trader. It had given Alloran a brief moment of celebration to hear that the Visser insisted on making the trek himself; that time around, he'd been right in regarding the visit as a fool's errand.
There was less and less to celebrate, those days.
‹And what of the animal creatures?› the Visser asked an underling. ‹You mean to say these are all Class One, as well?›
"My apologies, kathar...sir," stammered a Hork-Bajir Controller, struggling to control the language. "Dagiv hendo...Taxxons but they were unsuccessful."
‹Bring them to me now. I will have a full report.›
"I am afraid the host bodies went berserk. They are not acclimatized to this planet and began devouring some of the plant life in a frenzy, finding it poisonous."
The Visser erupted in a storm of cursing. When he'd seemed to calm down and they were returning to the spacecraft, Alloran tried to egg him on. ‹Does it not strike you as odd that so many of these species have "evolved" holes in their faces for acquiring nutrients? A waste of mutations.›
‹Yes, we enlightened species have much better ways of sustenance.›
He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed that the Visser lumped them into the same category. ‹Though I suppose those holes could also function for making noise. So much the better for you, if you have no choice but to trumpet your frustration to every sentient being in earshot.› It had been a while since he'd made jokes, in and out, first as something to do and then as a guarded defense. Maybe he was getting rusty.
‹Off to the left,› the Visser suddenly called, raising his Dracon beam.
How much could he still distract the Yeerk? ‹What do you suppose the Skrit Na find to sell in this cesspool? An intoxicated Kelbrid has more cultural life than this entire-›
The Visser shot and stunned a large creature, slowly trudging forward before acquiring it. ‹Another mouth. Convergent evolution strikes again.›
5.
Nobody wanted to stick around when the Visser tried his newest morph. ‹They're getting the right idea. You're a danger to your own army.›
‹And I'll be all the more danger to yours.›
‹How on-whatever moon or planet you find yourself on-is this going to make anything more amenable to infestation?›
‹Most of your fellows are competent enough to kill themselves before they're taken alive. This simply expedites the process.›
‹Competent? I notice you're still here.›
‹But a different body.› The Visser blew another ball of fire out into the distance.
‹Are you going to manage the Leeran campaign, then? I thought Visser One was supposed to be in charge.› While Alloran didn't indicate respect for Yeerks individually or collectively, he could still get a rise out of his captor by reminding him that Edriss 562 outranked him.
As predicted, Visser Three took the bait. ‹What? What does this have to do with Leera?›
‹Where else but in water could such a ridiculous-looking species evolve? The eightfold symmetry, the fire not proving immediately disastrous.›
‹Have I broken you so soon, War-Prince? I don't see any oceans.›
‹They'd have obviously further evolved to adjust to a different climate. Visser.›
‹So you think this is the work of the Ellimists, then? Never took you for a mystic.›
‹Other species have been able to reconfigure their genetic codes. Perhaps something similar interfered here.›
‹Something much more powerful than your best scientists. You'd better hope there's nothing sentient left on this planet.›
‹When we're done with it, there won't be.›
The Visser demorphed and made his way back towards the other Controllers. "Have you overcome the morph's katav nalin...instincts?" a Hork-Bajir stammered.
‹I find them unproblematic,› he responded, ‹it gets easier with time.›
Privately, to Alloran, he added, ‹And you thought I'd just burn this body out, did you? Draw in too much DNA to function? We're nowhere near finished yet.›
0.
‹You are sure this will work?› the Visser demanded.
"Yes," the Taxxon-Controller nodded, "we have tested it with all sorts of host bodies."
‹I'm not taking chances. A half-dozen of you with Dracons ready.›
"Of course, Visser."
They were off from the main Yeerk Pool, far from the flimsy human toys of the voluntary Controllers and the cages and screams of their involuntary counterparts. In front of them lay the Visser's own private pool, but as the Visser placed his ear above it, there were no preemptive stunnings. Just the strange metallic clamp, and then-
Nothing. The Yeerk was gone.
Alloran tried to move, but could not; to morph, but remained still. The new brain-wave interface must have worked. Powerless, he cursed the Yeerks within his mind while selfishly relishing the chance to think on his own. Every other Pool trip, thrice-weekly for decades, he'd had to be stunned so he wouldn't escape.
He summoned Jahar and his childrens' faces to his memory, or what he thought must have been theirs; they'd be grown, of course. Could he thought-speak to the Taxxon guards? What would convince them it was the Yeerk? ‹You fools! This was not fit for an Andalite body, now both this pool and the host have become useless, the waves out of phase. You must destroy this entire apparatus. Kill the host if it does not respond.›
A Taxxon crept forward. ‹The Yeerk is still swimming, you fool.›
Too tired to protest any further, Alloran slumped within the brain-wave device, and all too soon, the Visser had returned, and immediately scanned Alloran's memories of the occasion. ‹A success! He tried both moving and morphing. You have done well; I will not need your services in the future.›
And he inwardly added ‹See, you've lost nothing; even if you had tried to hold out and fool me, down the line I'd have known better. So no use regretting that. Too greedy to run at the first chance, eh?›
"It tried convincing us it was you."
‹You did well. I will isolate this pool until it is out of thought-speak range from anyone else who might happen across it.›
‹I'll see you dead,› Alloran muttered.
A joke. Or a promise. It was hard to tell.