PROLOGUE

This story takes place during those busy weeks before I quit the basketball team. But I wasn't there for this part of the story. This is how it was described to me after the fact. It may differ slightly from what actually happened.

It was an ordinary school day. Mr. Chapman was sitting in his office, going through some papers, when he suddenly noticed someone was sitting in front of his desk. There had been no knock, nor announcement, nor the sound of the door opening. Mr. Chapman just looked up and realized a man he didn't recognize had been staring at him for who knows how long.

Mr. Chapman stared at the man with suspicion and annoyance. ". . . Can I help you?"

He didn't answer. The man was an adult, white, dark hair, but Mr. Chapman didn't notice any of his other features. His face was average and unremarkable . . . No, that wasn't right. The face was vague and blurry - It was like an optical illusion. The man looked normal at a glance, but after Mr. Chapman stared for several seconds, he realized the man was like an unfinished ceramic doll. He began to flicker, like an image shot from an old film projector.

"You're not human," Mr. Chapman announced.

"Neither are you - Part of you," the visitor replied. "Hedrick Chapman and Iniss."

The human and Yeerk pair narrowed their eyes. Iniss didn't like shady, ominous strangers who knew too much. While Mr. Chapman just didn't like anyone using his first name.

Mr. Chapman leaned back in his chair. "All right, let's get to the point," he said. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"We are the Quantum Kindred," the visitor said in an emotionless monotone.

"There's something vaguely pretentious about that name," Mr. Chapman said.

"We are a single entity that acts as many. In our natural state, we are not bound by the normal laws of time and space. We are a special being."

"Called it," Mr. Chapman said. "Now why are you in my office?"

"We want the Time Matrix," the Quantum Kindred answered.

Mr. Chapman rolled his eyes and sighed. "That nonsense again," he muttered. He leaned forward with his hands clasped together on his desk. "If you came to this planet because of that rumor those idiot Skrit Na started, let me tell you: The Time Matrix does not exist. There is no time machine on Earth. It's a myth."

"The presence of the Time Matrix has covered this entire city with a Sario fold - a weak point in time and space. We cannot narrow it down further, but we know it's somewhere in this city."

"That sario-whatever could have come from anything," he replied nonchalantly. "I promise you there is no time machine here. Now, do you mind leaving? I'm actually in the middle of something."

"We can sense your thoughts," the Quantum Kindred said. "We can see the Time Matrix in your mind."

Mr. Chapman froze. "You're telepathic then." After a few moments, he spoke again, but without seeming concerned. "Fine, I lied. I know all about the Time Matrix. But I took a vow to make sure nobody would ever find it or use it. I'm not going to help you."

"We do not need your consent. The thoughts of lesser life forms are transparent to us." It paused. "We have been listening to the thoughts of all the humans here, searching for information of the Time Matrix, until we found you. You will lead us to its location."

"I know why you're still talking," Mr. Chapman said confidently. "You're having trouble reading my mind, so you're trying to make me think about it. But you see, the reason you're having trouble is because after it was hidden away, I used a psychic scrambler on myself to stop nosy telepaths like you from learning too much." He smirked. "Pays to be prepared."

The Quantum Kindred said nothing.

Mr. Chapman stopped smiling. "I have very little patience for people who underestimate us 'lesser life forms'."

"We can overcome a psychic scrambler."

Mr. Chapman stared at the Quantum Kindred for a few moments. Then he asked, "Can you?"

The Quantum Kindred stared back.

This shouldn't be possible. It could see Mr. Chapman's thoughts, but somehow, even while scanning at point-blank range, it couldn't see all his thoughts. There were illogical gaps in the memories. It knew that Mr. Chapman knew where the Time Matrix was - it knew Mr. Chapman was thinking about it right now - but the Quantum Kindred just couldn't see it.

"And you won't be able to," Mr. Chapman said. "My good friend Iniss has been physically attached to my brain for a long time, looking through all my memories with my permission, and not even he knows where the Time Matrix is hidden. So what chance do you have?"

"We can overcome the psychic scrambler once you open your mind to us willingly."

Mr. Chapman stood up with his hands firmly on the desk. "I will do no such thing. You strike me as a person who's never been told 'no' before, so I'm saying it now. The Time Matrix is off-limits to everyone. This is your only warning, Quantum Kindred: Give up and go home! And if you cause any trouble on this planet, you'll be picking a fight you really don't want to have." He sat back down and picked up his pen. "Now get out of my office. I have work to do."

The Quantum Kindred was silent again. A moment later, it flickered like the static of a TV screen, and then it was gone.

.

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

My name is Tom. The Yeerk in my head is named Tem. And we were both a little annoyed.

Ms. Chapman, the host for Niss, had called us out of the blue, saying she needed our help with something. She specifically said it was about the Yeerk ship. Naturally, I dropped everything and agreed to help because I assumed it was important. But she picked us up and drove us to a furniture store.

Ms. Chapman - Well, I knew it was her and Niss. But generally we just used the name of the host to refer to host and Yeerk as a unit. The Yeerks don't seem to mind, and it helped prevent us from slipping up in public.

Anyway, she darted around the store to inspect everything that caught her eye, like a hummingbird moving from flower to flower. I followed close behind her and listened to her ramble, wondering why I was here.

"I know what you're thinking," Ms. Chapman said. "We should be in an office supply store, right?"

[Not what I was thinking,] I told Tem.

"Swivel chairs would be the easy choice. Lightweight. Easy to deliver. Not too expensive. But they're just so plain, you know? Drab. I was thinking, we should get something that's actually nice. Trouble is, there's just so many options to pick from. And obviously, we can't just snatch one of everything. It's gotta have a theme. I say we pick the material first, and then we worry about color. My first thought was Naugahyde. Don't know why, just popped into my head. I was like, 'Naugahyde, why not?' But then Niss pointed out, 'doesn't that get sticky?' So I was like, 'yeah, it looks so cheap too'. Maybe we should do suede instead. What do you think? Naugahyde? Suede? What?"

She talked a lot. If Ms. Chapman talked that much in her own head, I wondered how Niss ever got a word in.

Tem searched through my memories. [What's Naugahyde?]

[Something cheap and sticky, I guess?]

Out loud, I said, "Mrs. Chapman -"

"Ms.," she corrected. "Actually, you can call me Alison. I mean, we're all friends, right Tommy?"

"Uh, sure, Alison." I didn't bother telling her not to call me Tommy. "Why are we here? When you asked for my help, I thought you meant . . . you know, at the ship."

"I did," she replied. "We're picking out new furniture for the ship. Everyone's always messing with the computers, and the engine, and the pool, but nobody stops to think about the chairs. I mean, the chairs we have now have just got to go! They are so god-awful uncomfortable, don't you think?"

I nodded, conceding the point. "They are, yes."

"Right?! Of course, they were designed for Hork-Bajir, not humans, so what do you expect?"

I looked around nervously. I was pretty sure no one was close enough to overhear, but it's not like we were the only ones in the furniture store, and she wasn't exactly being quiet. "Should we really be talking about that stuff in public?" I whispered.

But she just waved it off. "It's fine. Don't worry. Oh, this looks cute. What do you think of this?" She picked up a throw pillow - it was poofy and fuzzy and a hideous pink-purple color.

"It looks like someone from Sesame Street got turned into roadkill," I deadpanned.

She looked down at the pillow, then put it back where she found it. "You're right, too much." Then she went to get a closer look at a duvet.

"Do you really need my help for this? Interior design's not exactly my thing."

"If I find something today, I wanted your help moving it. After all, I can hardly ask the delivery boys to send it to the middle of the woods, now can I?"

"Wait a sec. You dragged me out here just 'cause you needed a moving man?" That made me angry, probably more than it should have. I figured the Sharing members, of all people, would be the last ones to treat me like I was only there for moving furniture.

"I know what you're thinking." Ms. Chapman nodded understandingly. "You're worried you're not strong enough, right?"

I blinked, suddenly more confused than angry. "No, I'm sure I'm strong enough, it's just -"

"I know basketball is usually for the tall skinny kids, but you're not that skinny, Tommy. Not really."

"I'm not 'skinny' at all." I make sure to stand straight with my shoulders back, showing off my full size. "I work out. I can easily carry a few chairs into the ship."

She smiled brightly. "Great! Thanks for offering."

I blinked again. "Wait, what?"

She moved over to a blue plush armchair. "What do you think of this one? Too plain?"

"Hold on, I wasn't - I -"

Tem spoke inside my head. [There's no point in arguing. She's our ride home anyway.]

I sighed deeply. I stared at her and the armchair, and said, "It clashes with the pool liquid's color."

I was being sarcastic, but she looked back at it and said, "Good point." Then she moved on to the next thing.

We continued looking around the store for a little while. Ms. Chapman couldn't commit to anything. Everything was either too expensive, the wrong style, or just "meh". I don't mind saying I was no help at all. I just didn't care what the furniture looked like, but at the same time I thought everything in the store would look out of place inside an alien computer lab.

Before long a salesman came up to us. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"We need chairs for . . . an office study. We can call it that, right Tommy? Yeah, let's go with that. Very modern style office. Something classy, without being frilly. You know what I'm saying? And it needs to be on a budget 'cause we need five. As for the material, we're thinking . . ." She looked to me, expecting me to pitch in.

"Not Naugahyde," I said, which was the full extent of the help I could or wanted to offer.

"All right, let's look back here," the salesman said politely. "I have an idea you and your son might like."

"Oh, he's not my son." Ms. Chapman narrowed her eyes. "Why would you think that? Do I LOOK old enough to have a son his age?!"

The salesman quickly shook his head. "No! No, not at all. You look - Follow me, please."

As we followed him, I leaned down to Ms. Chapman's ear and whispered, "You do have a daughter not much younger than me."

"Doesn't mean I should look it," she whispered back. "Speaking of Melissa, what time is it?" She pulled down her sleeve and looked at her watch. "Three-forty - Wait, that can't be right." She pressed the watch to her ear. "My watch stopped. You! What time is it?! Right now?!" She called to the salesman.

He looked at his own watch. "I have five to five."

"Oh, good lord! We're gonna be late! Come on!" She rushed towards the entrance.

"What about the -" I started to say.

"I SAID COME ON!" She came back and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a run.

A moment later we were racing through the parking lot towards her car. "I completely lost track of time," she cried. "Melissa's gymnastics' class is almost over! And I promised to pick up her and her friend!"

"What's the big deal?" I asked. "It's not the end of the world if you're a few minutes late."

She opened the car door. "Tom, it's a matter of principle! Now get in!"

I got in the car, and quickly regretted it. When Ms. Chapman drove us to the furniture store, her driving speed was normal. Now that she was in danger of being late somewhere, her speed was binary - Meaning full stop at red lights, slightly faster than legal the rest of the time, and nothing in between.

HOOONK! Another car honked their horn at us, after Ms. Chapman cut him off at a turn and came within an inch of hitting him.

"Yeah, honk all you like! I'm in a hurry!" she shouted out the window. She constantly weaved between lanes and passed any car that dared to go under the speed limit. Riding shotgun, I tightly gripped my seat belt like a life preserver. I wondered if Niss felt as helpless a passenger as Tem and I did, or if she was an accomplice to the driving.

We pulled into the parking lot of the YMCA with a screech - the car somehow perfectly straight and centered within the lines.

Ms. Chapman looked at the car's clock with a satisfied grin. "There, right on time."

"If you're gonna drive like that again, I'd rather walk home," I quietly told her.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I would never drive that recklessly when my daughter's in the car. What kind of mother do you think I am?" She looked out the car window and waved at the girls coming out of the YMCA building. "Hi, sweetie!"

My body unclenched by the time Melissa and her friend climbed into the backseat. I worked closely with the adult Chapmans, and they mentioned their daughter to me, but I never actually met her before now. Melissa looked around three years younger than me, putting her in the same grade as my brother Jake and my cousin Rachel.

I was a little surprised to see that Rachel was the friend we were picking up. "Tom?" She hadn't expected to see me either. "What are you doing here?"

"Who's this?" Melissa asked Rachel, rather than me or her mom.

"He's my cousin. Jake's big brother." She looked back to me, waiting for my explanation.

"I was helping Ms. Chapman -"

"Alison," she insisted.

"- Right. I was helping Alison with a Sharing thing," I said, which was sort of half-true.

"Sharing thing?" Rachel repeated.

"It's that club my mom and dad are running," Melissa reminded her.

"Oh, right," Rachel said. "Are you a member, Tom?"

"Yeah. I'm a full member now, so I'm kinda running things too."

"I wouldn't give you that much credit. You're just the new guy," Ms. Chapman said with a playful smile. She drove out of the parking lot - thankfully, at a normal speed again. "Tommy was helping out with a few errands before we came here. You know how the Sharing is. Work, work, work. We're getting ready for our next open house meeting this Saturday. Trying to get more people to join. Fingers crossed."

That's not really what we were doing today, but the part about a meeting on Saturday was true. I turned in my seat to smile at the girls. "You two should come. It'll be fun."

I invited them casually, without really thinking about it. But Ms. Chapman abruptly stopped smiling. The girls couldn't see it, but she gave me a sideways glance and a subtle, but unmistakable, shake of the head.

". . . But you're probably too busy," I added.

"No, I'd like to come," Melissa replied.

"You sure?" her mom asked. "You don't have to."

"You and dad are always doing so much work with the Sharing, I think I should see at least one meeting. How about it, Rachel? Will you come with us?"

Rachel shrugged. "Why not? I don't have any plans for Saturday."

"Well, now you do," Ms. Chapman said with a big smile. "We're all going to the Sharing."

She glanced at me again with a big grin. I got the distinct feeling she wanted to rip my head off.

.

Ms. Chapman dropped Rachel and me off before going home with Melissa, so I didn't have a chance to talk with her alone. Later that evening I called her on the telephone.

The Chapmans told me before that they secretly attached alien software to their landline. Phone calls going to or from their house couldn't be wire-tapped. Yeerk-related calls were in no danger of being overheard - through the phone line, at least.

I looked around the kitchen, double-checking that my family wasn't around, and I spoke into the receiver. "Sorry if I did something wrong, but I need a little context. Why don't you want Melissa to come to the meeting?"

"I don't want her getting involved with all the alien stuff," she answered. "She's like a million years too young."

"She's -"

Tem interrupted me by thinking, [Telling her that she's only three years younger than you probably isn't the way to go.]

I frowned. Decided to switch tracks. "I wasn't inviting them to join the real Sharing. Just the public meeting. That's okay, right? We have normal people come in all the time."

"Yeah, but both her parents are full members, so that makes it way too easy for her to get deeper involved," Ms. Chapman said. "First she comes to one meeting, then she's coming to all the meetings, then she wonders what we're really doing when we claim to be at meetings she's not invited to, and before you know it she's demanding to see the pool and hear the whole story. No, it's better to just stop her from getting interested in the first place. And my husband thinks the same way."

"Well, you know . . ." I hesitated.

Sensing my thoughts, Tem spoke up. [She's just gonna argue.]

I ignored him and spat it out. "It might be better to just come clean and tell her everything."

"She's thirteen, Tom!"

Tem was polite enough not to say 'I told you so', but I could sense him thinking it subconsciously.

"I'm not letting her get within a zillion light years of Taxxons or Skrit Na. Not gonna happen!"

"I'm not saying to put her on the front lines, just stop keeping her in the dark. She's the only one in your household who doesn't know what's going on. That doesn't seem right."

"Forget it!"

I stopped holding back my thoughts. "Don't you think you're being a little patronizing? Eva kept telling me, 'don't get involved, you're too young' over and over. Do you have any idea how that feels? Even if she is young, doesn't Melissa deserve to know what her mom and dad are involved in?"

"Well, what about you?" she shot back. "You have a little brother the same age as Melissa, right? Have you told him yet? And don't your parents deserve to know what their son is up to?"

I paused, uncomfortably. "That's different."

"How?!"

"Because . . ." I looked around the room and through the doorway, checking once again that my family couldn't hear me. I saw Homer, the family dog, walking towards the kitchen. He noticed me and turned to quickly walk away. He had been avoiding me every chance he could lately.

I winced. "Because I'm the only one in this house who's a host. I'm the odd man out. And frankly . . . I'm a little scared of how they'll react. But Melissa's different 'cause she's the only one there who's not a host."

"Well, maybe I'm scared of how she'll react too," she said with a more vulnerable tone.

I couldn't argue with that.

The line was silent while I tried to think of something to say. Ms. Chapman spoke up first.

"Tom, Temrash - And Niss too, for that matter - All of you listen. I don't have a degree, or a career. And I don't know how to start a non-for-profit from scratch like Eva did. I'm just a stay-at-home mom. And these days it's not 'cool' for a woman to be 'just' a stay-at-home mom. But it never bothered me because I'm a good mother. No matter how busy I get with the Yeerks, no matter what alien-invasion-of-the-week is going on, I keep Melissa safe. And if that means keeping her in the dark sometimes, so be it. Do whatever you want with your family, but leave my daughter out of it."

I nodded. I couldn't possibly argue with any of that.

"Okay . . . I'll tell you what. When I see her Saturday, I'll make a big deal about how all the volunteer work isn't much fun. She won't want to join after that. After all, what kid wants to pick up trash in a park all day?"

"You came to the clean-up."

"Yeah, but I mean little kids. I'm much more mature and responsible," I said with an exaggerated smugness.

Ms. Chapman laughed, just like I intended her to . . . although I was a little hurt that she laughed that much.

"Yeah, I was probably over-reacting earlier," she said. "I mean, it's just one meeting. What's the worst that could happen?"


Author's Notes: In the canon books, Ms. Chapman never speaks without an evil Yeerk controlling her. And even then, I don't think she's seen in more than one book. So I pretty much created the non-Controller character from scratch. I decided to make her an expy of Donna Noble from Doctor Who, because, why not. Although, maybe I overdid it . . .

I didn't pick the name Alison. That's the name SoloMoon gave Ms. Chapman in the "Persistence of Memory" and "Eleutherophobia" fanfiction series. "Eleutherophobia" gives first and last names to a lot of unnamed characters, and it's my desire to make those names everyone's headcanon in deference to how excellent that fanfic is.