Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own Animorphs or any of the characters created by K. A. Applegate, and I'm not making any money off this.
Author's Note: This story is set at some time midway through the series, necessarily after #12 (The Reaction) and before #45 (The Revelation). The title is taken from a species of treason charge in the laws of the Yeerk Empire – treason by sympathy with a host species – which features heavily and is committed by more than one character before all is said and done. And though the story is Yeerk-centric, we will see those pesky Andalite Bandits make an appearance at some point. Enjoy!
Humans do not interest me. I must work among them, but I will never regard them with more than a passing indifference. They are, as a species, basically boring. Only a few of my experiences overseeing their enslavement will stay with me, and few of those had to do with humans directly.
No, humans do not interest me – unlike my predecessor, I will not walk among them to learn their ways. Interest breeds love, or at least hate. I do not concern myself with our host species.
…no, that is not entirely true. I once studied the Andalites with more fervor, even, than the fervor with which Visser One immersed herself in humanity. I…you understand the danger…I do not love the Andalites – that is the difference. I regard them with an interest that transcends love and hatred, but incorporates both. Perhaps it is not so paradoxical. One thing that humans have taught me is the uneasy yet familiar cohabitation of love and hate. Indifference, cool, clean, uninvolved indifference, is the opposite of both hate and love. Thus love and hatred coexist uneasily in the same sentient mind for the same object.
You doubt. Do I seem to speak treason? Don't think of it as a lesson from the human race – it was only incidental that I gleaned this truth from a human. No, I am no traitor. I am indifferent to the human species. In fact, I can think of only one memorable incident in my years on Earth which has directly involved humans.
Strangely enough, this was one of those very few Yeerk affairs on Earth in which I, as ranking Visser, played the role of interested observer. Barely involved. For a military officer who spends his time on Pool or Blade Ship detail, it is always amazing to discover how much the subjugation of a planet is bureaucratic instead of military. Amazing and fatiguing. I am a Warrior. Yet part of my war is now management, budget, overseeing insignificant events which lead ultimately to thousands of infestations – I have my hand in everything. For retiring war to an afterthought, I am busier than I ever am in my native element.
And then, always, inevitably, is the bandit band of Andalites still operating on the planet's surface. Mere nuisances. Disturbing anomalies. This story isn't about them – well, only partly. Everything on Earth involves them in some way or another. Inevitably.
My main duty, planetside, is to head the Sharing, an organization begun by my predecessor to further the invasion. The Sharing is a front organization that masquerades as a human social club. The invasion force uses it to induct voluntary – and involuntary – hosts. It is simultaneously one of the most convenient and most frustrating aspects of operating on Earth. Humans come to us and literally beg to become our slaves. It is almost sickening, their need for belonging, upon reflection. But it is very good for the Empire. Still, the Sharing is, if you take it symbolically, the pinnacle of planetside bureaucracy. Conquest through paperwork.
But it's effective. That's why I hate it – I can't help but need it.
As you can imagine, the key to the Sharing's success is the image it presents to the human population. Our human controllers have adopted the phrase "public relations" for this. My role in public relations is minimal, that of an overseeing manager. I don't understand it nor do I have any wish to – humans interest me only so far as they are suitable hosts. The human-controllers are in charge of this effort.
This was how I first came in contact with David Smith – Temrash 213. He was a human controller, about midway up in the invasion bureaucracy. I saw his name signed to several of the public relations pitches that crossed my desk over a few years. There were hundreds of controllers in this capacity, you understand – hundreds of proposals a month that I saw, and approved, or vetoed. The only reason Temrash 213 made an impression on me initially was that, one day while I was reviewing paperwork, I came upon a PR proposal of his. He had written an explanatory letter and signed it at the bottom, "Dav Temrash 213, Sulp Niar Pool." He'd begun to sign a human name, his host's name as I discovered later, then crossed it out and signed his real name.
I am well aware that many Yeerks take on the name of their host, not only for interaction among humans but among each other. This was contemptible to me, as it still is. I made a mental note of David's – Temrash's – name and occupation. I am sure I forgot about him for the next Earth year or so. The Andalite fleet arrived and I crushed them. The Andalite Bandits surfaced planetside. The Andalite Bandits destroyed the Kandrona. By this time Temrash must have been important enough to save, because he re-surfaced immediately afterward with a new proposal to promote the Sharing among the humans. Human society places a large amount of importance on certain persons called "celebrities." Temrash suggested that the Sharing pay "celebrities" to say positive things about the organization. Over the next few months he sent me a list of these humans, finally settling on one with the name Jeremy Jason McCole.
The effort became a fiasco.
Those who create fiascos on my planet do not live much longer.
Temrash did. Temrash did because the day after the Bandits attacked our "spokesman," Temrash sent me – sent me personally, not just released into the bureaucratic ocean that eventually feeds to my desk – a report showing a spike in Sharing membership after McCole came out in our favor. That made an impression upon me – most subordinates can't think clearly enough through their fear.
Looking back, that was a strikingly unusual display of magnanimity on my part. I don't tolerate failure – and the only true rule is rule through fear. It is the only way to safeguard, to ensure obedience. Some vissers will talk of building camaraderie with their troops, will speak of managing by creating relationships and through psychological theories. Here's my psychology: fear equals obedience. And that creature which will not obey to stave off death will not obey for any reason. Rule by fear is the law of nature, the greatest efficiency, born from eons of evolution.
And then, another reason he lived is my admittedly whimsical love of irony. I'd completely forgotten who had proposed the McCole plan – until his defense ended up on my desk. He would have been perfectly safe if he hadn't brought my attention on him. By sending me his defense, he put himself in needless danger.
So yes, I kept him alive partly to amuse myself with the ironic circumstances of his survival. He was a pet of indifferent chance. So kindly she led him to his doom – if not for my amusement.
He doesn't know any of this, though after learning more about him, I think he may suspect it – he's nothing if not perceptive.
His plan had also been productive. Yes, he was very productive.