July 6th, 1999

I did not write yesterday, though I greatly desire to make this a daily habit. It was an incredibly exhausting day. Upon awakening, I was informed by Petta, one of the children, that a human hunter both saw and took a shot at him and his friend deep within the forest. I assigned my father the task of organizing a force to monitor the perimeter of the valley, lest any curious humans, infested or otherwise, journey within, but like most things I assign my father, I had to micromanage. At first, he allowed his team to all stand huddled in a group together, joking and conversing. It took several more attempts before he finally understood what the point was.

After that, there was another scuffle between Teb and Brik. Both in their adolescent phase, I know it's only a matter of time before they give up their animosity and pair off, but until that happens, they are nothing more than a wrist blade in my rib.

All that before 11:13 am, when the Animorphs showed up as birds of prey in the valley for a serious talk.

I both love and hate when they come. I hate it for the obvious reasons—they never call just for a friendly visit, to admire the community we've become. Only Tobias ever visits recreationally. They only come with bad news. As Yeerk attempts at infiltration or mass infestation get more and more desperate and perilous over the months, their plans for counteraction have, likewise, gotten worse. They come to me because they are guilty about the damage their plans will have on my people, both freed and enslaved. They come for exculpation, forgiveness. They come so I can cleanse their sins.

It infuriates me. And yet, I welcome them every time they appear.

I do not like the hruthin, but even he intimidates me. Not just because of that tail blade, an overestimated weapon in my opinion, but because I don't have to explain things several times before they understand. Sometimes they understand before I even finish a thought. Sometimes they understand before I do. It's not a type of discourse I am comfortable in.

But I love it. Yes, I love it. I love discussing hypotheticals, conspiracies, and forecasts with them. I love brainstorming with them, feeling the vigor and electricity of intellectual conversation. It is something rare and happy, something to be cherished when it occurs.

If only it could happen under better circumstances!

"So you believe the Yeerks will use this reclaimed semi-truck depot to distribute portable Yeerk Pools to Yeerks with influential hosts," I summarized.

"We should tear it down before they even know what's coming!" Rachel yelled.

(I believe there is an opportunity here we have not considered,) the hruthin said. (If we can track the portable pools, we have a chance to discover precisely which humans they deem important enough to receive such valuable gifts.)

"Too risky," Jake said. "We don't want that kind of resource to get into anyone's hand. We've got to do this hard and fast."

"Jake," Cassie chided. "You didn't tell her the other part."

"What other part?" I asked.

(Portable Yeerk pools aren't the only thing they're distributing,) Tobias said.

"They're using it to transport shock troops. In covered trucks. Of course," I surmised.

"You can go in there and use your Hork-Bajir ninja magic to free some new friends to invite to the tea party," Marco said, gesturing to the results of a summer ritual in which tree bark is left to stew in warm, swampy water as a rich delicacy. "It smells like a port-a-potty at the beach here."

"I kind of like it," Cassie said. "It's very…lively." She coughed as she finished her sentence.

"I think you mean pungent," I said. "How long do we have to act?"

"We can't do anything till next weekend anyway, so do as many raids as you can. Tobias will give word when we're going. And we're going to do it, of course, at a time to minimalize casualties," Jake said.

(Yeah. I've been watching the place like a hawk—)

"I think you mean as a hawk," Marco interrupted.

(—like a hawk, for the past two days straight. Trucks come in at 11:00 pm, and leave at 8:00 am. Any time outside of that, the place looks emptied.)

"Looks," I repeated.

"We don't want to kill any Hork-Bajir," Jake said. "But we can't let this place stay operational."

Once again, that terrible pause. That need for validation. For forgiveness. I hated this role. They were just making it my fault instead of theirs.

"No, you cannot," I agreed. "I'll organize my task force. We'll head out tonight. Do you know what time they change shifts, Tobias?"

(Looked like somewhere between 12:30 and 1:00 am,) he said.

"Perfect. Just in time for a new day. Thank you for this information. Would you like to stay and partake in the festivities?" I asked, gesturing to the bog two females were stirring with tree limbs, making it sound like a formality but sincerely hoping they would stick around.

"If I came home smelling like that stuff, my dad would kill me and Nora would probably spray me with that stuff she uses to mask the dog smell," Marco said with a gag. "Maybe if you ferment something like grapes or juniper berries, you could convince me to stay."

"I'd like to stay," Cassie said. "Jake will too."

"But I have—"

"Jake will too."

(I'll stay too. Putrefaction and rot don't bother me as much as it bothers all the rest of you.)

"I'll get it on my shoes," Rachel groaned.

(Then take off your shoes.)

The Andalite watched me for a moment, turned his nose up, and headed back into the woods.

(I have my own rituals to complete before the day's end,) he said.

I smiled and nodded as kindly to him as I could. Four out of six stayed only out of charity, and yet, it made me happy. I understood they were doing it just to be kind, but I decided a while ago not to let my pride or dignity refuse overt sympathy. Sometimes it's just as kind to accept help as it is to offer it.

We completed our raid later that night.

I generally only like to take four of my strongest compatriots out at a time. Five is too many to account for, three is too few to be a threatening force. To be perfectly honest, I don't quite feel comfortable accounting for four, but we rarely have much success as a quartet. To effectively subdue (but not kill) a Hork-Bajir Controller, you need one force in each cardinal direction, and one keeping watch. The watch was usually me. Not to get out of the danger, which is what it often felt like I was doing, but because I was the only one who knew what to look for.

The depot was hidden deeply within a mostly abandoned industrial park, covered in dry sidewalk weeds and poorly upkept asphalt lots. I felt exposed as I guided my team through one, but there was no other choice. If this facility was as new as the Animorphs had indicated, it was quite likely that the Yeerks hadn't even installed surveillance equipment yet. That was my optimistic thought.

Those rarely turn out to be correct.

Fortunately, however, we got to the loading bays and I kept my team quiet until I heard grunting and creaking from the third docked trailer. One that had already been filled with troops for the following day.

Imagining what their purpose would be turned my stomach, so I ignored that thought. I focused instead on how best to unload them. There was only one entrance, which gave us the better tactical position, but completely revoked the element of surprise. I was just thinking about how best to handle the situation, when I heard:

"Hey! What are you doing out of the truck?"

I nearly broke my back I stood up so fast. My already clenching stomach tied itself in complex knots used only to hoist sails. Before I could even formulate a plan, I saluted him, and whispered to my team "Just stay quiet."

"Just checking the tires. Sub-Visser's orders," I said.

"They're fine. Get back inside."

"Yes, sir." The human began to head away, but I stopped him. "Say, you don't happen to have an extra Dracon beam, do you? I left mine in the pool."

"How often do you lizards have to be reminded to keep track of your weapon? Imagine if it fell into the bandit's hands!"

They're not interested in munitions, I thought. "I know, I know. Do me this favor and I'll owe you one."

"You could do me a favor now," he said smugly.

"What do you need?"

"Visser's coming in tomorrow to do an inspection. I've got a conveyor shift, and that thing's been glitchy as hell all week. Take my shift, I'll get you a new weapon."

I winced and inhaled through my teeth, cursing my excellent luck. "In what universe is a Dracon beam equal to the honor of being eviscerated by the Visser?"

"Hey, that's my price."

I wavered, embellished, hammed it up. Saw the desperation and fear grow in the poor sap's eyes. "I suppose it will have to do," I finally agreed.

The Dracon beam made my task thousands of times simpler. And the human did not, unfortunately, live long enough to survive the Visser.

Though the mission was successful, I always found getting back to the Valley much more terrifying than getting to the Yeerk strongholds in the first place. Carrying infested brothers over our backs, who at any moment could wake up, impale us, and slit our throats, was never a low-stress task. And by the time we returned to the forest, having already walked over five miles, we had three more through thick brush and steep rises before we got home.

It was nearly sunrise when we returned. I'd been awake for almost a full Earth day. I unslung the carrion from my shoulders, informed the current watch-guards to bind them and keep them subdued, and readied to retreat to my tree.

"Toby do good tonight!" Pret, the watch-guard said. "Many brothers and sisters to become fathers and mothers!"

"Yes, someday," I agreed. I looked back at the four Controllers we'd brought back, each lined up like game we'd hunted. Three males, one female. I sighed. The balance in our community was shifting. That made 57% of our community male and only 43% female. Why Yeerks preferred male Hork-Bajir was a mystery to me, as both grown genders achieve equal size and lethality. Perhaps Hork-Bajir pregnancy was just as inconvenient to them as it currently was to me.

"Inform me when their Yeerks die," I told Pret. I turned back to head to my tree, but not before I felt something brush my ankle blade.

I looked down. One of the males had his fingers clutched gently around the keratin, pulling me back weakly. His eyes turned up to me. A keloidal scar covered the bald patch where his ear nub used to be.

"You will be free soon, brother," I promised him. "Your suffering is almost at an end."

With that, I turned back to my tree, climbed, and tried to fall asleep. As soon as the sun cracked over the horizon, I heard a wail from Teb. One more urgent than usual.

Sighing, I climbed down the tree and started my day.