Chapter 21

Things in the underground Yeerk base had calmed significantly over the last couple of days. The initial panic of being discovered by the Human population had died down, and the enormous intake of new hosts seemed to be raising Yeerk morale. Just a little bit, but enough to stop everybody running around, panicking about military attacks.

Enough to stop sub-Vissers making awful decisions.

Yarfush had a new sub-Visser now, who seemed to be handling things much better than the last one. Despite being the only Yeerk to escape the ill-fated mission in the hospital, Yarfush went unpunished. They placed no blame on him for how it went down.

I resigned myself to silence the day after the mission. I still had not recovered from witnessing the deaths of the three soldiers. I don't think I ever will. Yarfush was willing to take the blame for it, and though technically it was all his doing, I couldn't help but feel that I played a part in their killing. It was a vision that I would take to my grave, and every day, that grave seemed ever closer.

The new sub-Visser was clever enough to only send experienced combatants or controllers good with weapons into raids, which meant the Yarfush was relegated to once again wandering the Yeerk base for minor jobs to perform. These usually involved cleaning out host cages, feeding Taxxons or helping to shift Human hosts to and from the piers that lined the pool.

I had slowly started to adjust to my new home. That is not to say that I no longer found it gruesome and horrific in the worst possible ways, but the screams no longer seemed so loud, and the sight of distressed hosts became just an inconvenient drone.

I hated myself for adjusting to such a hell. It felt too much like betrayal.

Yarfush was mostly on patrol duty today, which meant circling the vast complex and looking out for any brewing trouble or for any fellow Yeerk in need of a hand. It was mostly uneventful, aside from the odd host escaping the clutches of their captors whilst being brought to or from the piers.

As we arrived to the northern end of the base, we approached Station 11. This was where I expected Twig was being kept.

((Do you mind if we search for Twig in the host cells?)) I asked Yarfush.

He sighed in annoyance. ((Must we?))

((Well, it's not as if you have anything better to do.)) I pointed out.

((Fine, but it is doubtful that we will find him. If we can't spot him within five minutes, I am moving along.))

So Yarfush took us on the less-than-scenic route alongside the host cages of Station 11. He ignored and avoided the outstretched hands and pleading that was the norm on such walks, but he moved slowly to get a good look inside each cage.

We approached the end of the line. ((I don't believe he is here, Steven.)) Yarfush uttered.

((Perhaps you're right.)) I sighed, a little deflated.

((We will check again on each trip. We may find him yet.)) He said, and I quietly thanked him for the offer.

But before Yarfush could pull away from the line of cages, something tugged at our eyes. The cell that was two down from the end of the line was holding a large number of hosts, seven at the least. The hosts consisted of, from an initial glance, five Humans and two Hork-Bajir. Most of them were lost in the darkness of the shadows, including one Hork-Bajir who was curled up tightly in the corner. We could see very little.

That was what caught our attention. The Hork-Bajir's silhouette showed only slight signs of the typically large Hork-Bajir blades.

We loomed over cage K-98 to get a better look at the suspect. Yarfush pulled out a small flashlight from his pocket and shone it at the individual. As we thought, the blades across the arms and legs were severely blunted.

This Hork-Bajir was unmistakeably Twig. He was tightly packed into the corner of the cage, quivering and curled up almost like a ball with his tail looped up and over his head. His eyes constricted tightly under the influence of the flashlight. Tears ran down his cheeks. He finally hid his face in his hands.

The Humans in the cage were noticing our intrusion, and were quick to make themselves heard by throwing verbal abuse and punching the air in my direction. Yarfush yelled at them to shut up, and that's when Twig looked up again.

((Say something else.)) I asked of Yarfush.

He caught onto my idea and returned some verbal abuse to one of the more rowdy Humans. We noticed Twig unrolling himself in the corner, his head cocking at the familiar sound of my voice. As soon as he recognised me, he squirmed to the bars, pushing past a couple of shouting Human hosts.

"Steven! Steven!" He yelped.

Yarfush felt no need to hand control over to me, and spoke to Twig himself. "Hello, Twig."

He stared up at us with sore, watery eyes. "Steven help Twig! Get Twig out of cage! Twig want to go home now!"

Yarfush sighed. "I can't. This is your new home."

I cursed him for the lack of empathy present in his tone, but I understood that there wasn't much else he could say. Nothing could really be said that would make Twig any happier.

Twig grunted and looked baffled. "Twig not like new home. Twig want to go home with Steven and Brenda."

"Twig," Yarfush started, a little frustrated. "Steven has a new home, as well. Steven lives in Station 2." He pointed in our station's general direction. "Steven lives in a cage much like the one you're in now."

The initial hope that my appearance had brought to Twig had quickly vanished. His frightened expression returned, and he simply gazed at Yarfush through the bars like he was witnessing the visitation of a ghost.

Yarfush decided that this was not a conversation worth having. "Twig, I must go. Be safe."

"No!" Twig shrieked. "Steven not leave! Not leave Twig again!"

Something tugged at my chest. Again? Did he think that I and Brenda had done this to him? Did he blame us for his suffering?

For probably the thousandth time, I felt sick inside.

Yarfush left with a few brutal final words to Twig. "I am not Steven, now. My name is Yarfush three-one-seven."

Yarfush turned and began to leave, much to Twig's despair. We listened to him cry out a loud falsetto whine that soon changed and mutated into a betrayed roar. I tried to drown it out, tried to think it was just another cry from another nameless face, but something told me that I would be remembering that cry for a long time.

We were soon out of range, and Yarfush insisted on excusing himself from blame. ((I'm sorry if I came across as a little harsh, but there was nothing else I could really do. There is no way I can make this ordeal any better for him. Hork-Bajir hosts are never willing to compromise their freedom. That's why Human hosts are now more desirable to my people.))

((You couldn't really have made things worse if you tried!)) I accused. ((You should have let me talk.))

((Drop my control in front of superiors? We would be back to Taxxon egg duty, Steven.))

I sighed, defeated. We had not managed to make Twig feel any more comfortable, and I even found myself with a few new metaphorical knives in my heart, but at least we knew where he was being held while his Yeerk fed. That was the only positive, but it was a positive nonetheless.

Three days had passed since Yarfush had last been into the pool, and he was hungry. He reported to the sub-Visser, got permission to feed, and we were soon waiting by the Station 2 drop-off pier. The base, due to the influx of new hosts being brought in via the subways, was considerably busier, so the wait was even longer than usual.

I sensed nerves from Yarfush. He had grown quiet again.

He picked up on my curiosity. ((I am quiet because everything else is quiet…)) He hummed. ((The raids are going well, we have greatly increased host numbers, and we have avoided military attack.))

That's good though, isn't it? I commented. Well, for you, anyway.

((The higher-ups expected more resistance. I suppose it's…)) He paused.

((It's what?))

He grumbled inaudibly, then said, ((I guess there is no harm in telling you now. Do you remember when Howson told you about Andalite bandits?))

((Of course.)) I said, slightly bitter that he could simply read my memory as if he had been there with me.

((Well, they aren't.))

((Okay…)) I responded. ((They aren't what?))

((They aren't Andalites. They're Humans.)) He huffed, seemingly embarrassed.

I hesitated. ((Is this what you wouldn't tell me earlier?))

((Yes.)) He said. ((You see, the vast majority of our Human hosts have never come into contact with an Andalite. Their view of Andalites comes entirely from our perspective of them.))

I considered this, but didn't quite understand what he was trying to get at. He continued.

((The Andalites are an extremely arrogant race, and don't take that as my personal bias. A lot of them truly are, especially those in military circles. That is what we tell our hosts, and that is what they believe. They think that, except for a small rogue band, the Andalites as a race care very little for yours. It gives the hosts little to no hope. It keeps them quiet.))

((And if they knew that it was Humans trying to save them…)) I began.

((Then the Human hosts will begin to believe that they have some hope of being saved.)) He finished for me. ((Yeerk will save Yeerk. Andalite will save Andalite. Human will save Human. The moment the Human hosts realise that Humans have some influence in the war, there is a risk of rebellion.))

((So why are you telling me this now?)) I questioned. ((Surely telling me now is counter-productive.))

((Things are changing, Steven,)) He hummed. ((The new hosts that have come in since the invasion was revealed are spreading rumours, and other hosts are starting to believe them. There is no real point in keeping it from you anymore. I want you to hear it from me. If we're going to be spending the rest of our lives together, I want there to be honesty.))

I would have smiled. ((I guess I should say thanks. I can't really keep secrets from you, so I guess it's fair.))

He chuckled. ((Yes, a little fairer. Just don't tell your cage-mates, okay?))

((I can't make any promises.))

((I understand. Sometimes, things just slip.)) He said, and he made my mouth smile as he brought my body up to the pier. It was his turn to go. ((See you again soon, Steven.)) He muttered as he bent us down and turned his head.

((Talk soon.)) I replied, and I felt him let go. He squirmed from my ear with the normal squelching, stretching motions and splashed down into the rusty water. I was escorted back to my new cage.

B-31, the cell I had been moved to since the war was unveiled, was holding five hosts. I made the number up to six as I entered.

I was fortunate that Howson had been moved to the same cell as me. He was talking to a black-haired woman as I arrived, but he quickly turned his attention my way after introducing me to the strangers that now shared the living space.

He must have seen right through me, because he instantly picked up on the emotions I was feeling. "Steven, you okay, man? You seem a little shaken up."

I nodded, and then leant my head back against one of the bars. "It's been a tough few days. I'm sure things have been a little different for you, too."

"They sure have." He said. "So many new people down here. My Yeerk has been keeping me busy. I haven't seen any sun in days."

"Stuck down here, huh?" I chuckled. "You're luckier than you think you are."

He smiled a little sourly. "I get that feeling, too. Did you go up to the surface?"

"Yes." I said, holding back a grimace and turning my face to stone. "Once."

Howson's eyes narrowed and he sat down in front of me. "What happened, Steven?"

I exhaled heavily in a groan and rubbed at my face with both hands. Then I dropped them and stared into his eyes. "I killed. Three soldiers. I killed them."

Howson shook his head, a sorrowful look on his face. "That's something a lot of us have to deal with. But it ain't us killing, Steven. It's them."

"I know." I snapped, angrier at myself for my shameless self-pitying. "My Yeerk keeps trying to tell me that, but… it just seems so real, you know?"

"I wouldn't know." He admitted. "I've never had to go through that. I hope that I never will, but now that we're in open war…" He shrugged.

The hours passed by as usual, and I spent my time exchanging experiences with those caged around me. I would have to wait longer for Yarfush to return due to the extra workload required to infest new hosts, and I did my best to keep myself occupied, lest I return to my lonesome bubble to dwell in pity and guilt like I so often did.

I was talking to an Asian gentleman, when I noticed the controllers around the lake becoming agitated. Some were yelling down walkie-talkies with uncertain looks on their faces. Howson noticed it to, and he was standing against the bars, watching as a sudden panic began to unfold.

Suddenly, orders were being screamed. Controllers ran around frantically to obey. There were no escapees putting up any fights, no spats erupting between controllers, and no weapons being fired. Something from elsewhere was sending them into hysteria.

Then I noticed something: The area around Station 1 was being evacuated.

"What's going on?" One of our cage-mates asked. No one answered. We were too busy watching the scenario unfold.

As soon as Station 1 had been evacuated, a loud rumble began to shake the cavern, and the source of panic became apparent. About thirty feet above the large station barrack was an opening in the cavern wall. It was an entrance to the new subway tunnel that the Yeerks had built to divert trains closer to the pool. Further down that cavern was the last station, where new hosts were dropped off.

The rumble came from the great hole in the wall, and the Yeerks were quick to abandon the area beneath it. That rumble turned to a roar that drowned out the confused screams of caged hosts.

From the cavern it burst, sending loose debris and work equipment through the air. The front end of a subway train crashed through the barriers like some great metal worm, the first carriage bending and dropping through the air and over the barracks, its front slamming down on the rock surface below. The second carriage pushed out the back end of the first as it charged on from behind, causing the train to jack-knife forward. Metal splintered and screeched, sending hideous echoes around the chamber.

The train balanced precariously on the lead carriage, then fell forward, crashing heavily into the sludgy lake. The splash erupted high into the air, tiny Yeerk bodies flailing helplessly, some splatting down onto the pool edge. The rest of the train fell sideways onto the rusty liquid surface.

The train settled. The frenzy began.