by DawningStar
You liked it?> Riae asked anxiously.
It was very good, Riae. Very good.> I gave a mental smile. I'd long held to the belief that a Yeerk could, in fact, be a Storyteller, but none of those assigned to me had ever done anything but ridicule the idea. Riae might well be the link needed between Yeerk and host, since Storytellers were widely respected, even among species like the Andalites who didn't see the point in the stories. Do you mind if I go over a few points with you?>
No, of course not. That's the best way to learn.>
Good.>
The discussion lasted most of the remaining time on the ship. Riae reacted to my observations exactly as I would expect any good Storyteller to--she admitted I was probably right in most cases, but there was a feeling of injured pride she couldn't entirely suppress.
I understood that perfectly. I'd felt just the same way while I was learning. But it was a sign that she would do well. Not because she didn't like hearing it--that was something that just couldn't be avoided--but because she was willing to listen.
We had just finished that and I was trying to explain poetry when one of the Hork-Bajir honor guard came back toward our seat. "We will be landing in a few minutes, Visser," he said in guttural tones.
Instantly Riae had retaken complete control of me. "Very well, Ralin Six-Four-Seven. There have been no transmissions?"
"No, Visser."
She nodded in dismissal and he turned to go back to the forward compartment. A loyal Yeerk, Ralin,> Riae commented. Not many of those left. Not personal loyalty, of course. No one can afford that these days. He's just loyal to whoever he's assigned to this week. One of the few people I come close to trusting.>
Was that a tone of nostalgia in her voice?
Yes,> she confirmed, I do rather miss the old days. Back when there was actually an enemy to fight, not just each other...>
The old days always look better. Mostly wishful thinking. You can't tell me there wasn't political infighting under Esplin Nine-Four-Double-Six, for example.>
I wouldn't try. He's legendary. Fast track to promotions, serving under him--for the ones who survived, at any rate.>
And that was back when the war was at its peak.>
True, true...ah, well. No use thinking about it now. There's probably never been a government without political infighting, as you put it.>
I hesitated. Riae...>
She knew what I wanted to ask. For a while during her story and the following discussion, she had pulled back, away from my thoughts, but now she was listening again. That's classified information. You'd get in trouble.>
So? I'm already in trouble. So are you. And sharing memories with a host, even classified memories, isn't exactly counted as a major crime.>
There was a long silence. I felt Riae open my thoughts, almost unconsciously finding why I wanted to know. All right,> she said at last. I'll show you. It'll take a while...>
That's all right. Probably better for you not to be distracted while you meet your team anyway.>
Very well.> The two of us let out one long breath. What the Vissers think of Storytellers,> she mused. It was the first time I'd attended a meeting of the top Vissers, just after my promotion to Visser Nine...Are you sure you want to know, Cassandra?>
Yes.>
And I no longer saw through my own eyes as the interior of the ship dissolved...
"Vissers One through Ten, assembled by request of Visser Two. The Council awaits your report, Visser Two."
The voice was unemotional, but clear of any trace of static. One would never know it came from a different world, broadcast through Zero-space on a heavily coded and split frequency. Riae shifted a human foot nervously. The most junior Visser there, it wasn't likely she'd be called on for anything...but it was possible, and Riae found herself hoping it didn't happen. Illogical. She should have been eager for the chance to serve the Council of Thirteen. But she could not deny the fear, and it made her wonder if perhaps she was not cut out for high rank.
Visser Ten sneered at her from his seat, Hork-Bajir face twisting in hatred. One rank lower than she, several years her senior. She knew he resented her promotion over him. She'd have to watch him closely.
"Thank you, Councilors," Visser Two said, standing. "And you, my fellow Vissers, for coming."
He knew how to give a speech, she'd say that much for him. As though they'd had any choice but to come. The Council had ordered their appearance, and they'd obeyed.
"As you know, I have been researching the uprisings of the rebel faction calling themselves the Yeerk Peace Movement, or the resistance," he continued. "I have found some disturbing correlations between the Yeerks known to be involved in this faction and their hosts."
There was a small rustle through the chamber. It wasn't considered precisely polite to discuss hosts. It was a necessary evil to take over other races if the Yeerk Empire was to survive, but better not to discuss them. They were animals, no more.
That's what you think,> Riae's own host whispered. A human female, she was for the most part reasonably cooperative. She'd given up entirely. But still she wouldn't let that pass silently.
Visser Two looked faintly amused at the disturbance. "I know," he said, "I'm being terribly crude. My apologies. However, the evidence is such that I feel I must let you know of it."
Visser One nodded slightly, Andalite head motioning ever so slightly for the other to continue.
"These statistics are based mostly on the large-scale captures several years ago, with a few older and more recent records included," the Visser began. "Nine of ten Yeerk rebels had been assigned human hosts at the time they rebelled. Nearly all of those remaining had once been human-Controllers."
This means nothing,> Visser Four broke in. Riae eyed the Andalite-Controller with concealed dislike. An opportunist if ever there was one, he'd take any chance to point out mistakes others had made. The majority of hosts are human. Naturally most of the rebels would be human-Controllers, low-ranking scum that they are.>
Now there was a sentence that could be taken several ways. A couple of the human-Controllers in the chamber bristled slightly, but it wasn't an insult to them--quite.
Barely disguised humor touched Visser Two's voice. "Naturally. But there is more. I have taken the liberty of conducting a study of various hosts, their reaction to enslavement, and their effects on Yeerks. Despite the fact that most hosts have never known freedom, many respond at first with anger, making them unpleasant to live with for months or years. While inconvenient at times, this rarely has any effect on the Yeerk Controlling them.
"But eventually they all give up. I'm sure we've all seen them. They sit in their cages staring at nothing, hoping to die. And we know there won't be any more trouble from them.
"Which is why one group I have found is so unusual." Visser Two glanced around. Riae could tell he was coming to the point of the dissertation. "There are a small number of hosts who neither scream nor despair.
"This minority is occasionally sympathetic to the Yeerk cause, but always opposed to the infestation of involuntary hosts. What is more, they absolutely refuse to give up. They do not actively fight us, nor are they often involved directly in the peace movement, since hosts are liable to be reassigned at any time. Their resistance takes the form of lies told during the Yeerk's feeding time. These lies are apparently not meant to be taken seriously, but those who listen often are not quite so hopeless. They are more likely to have serious, lengthy conversations with the Yeerk assigned to them. Among the hosts, the people who tell these tales are called 'Storytellers'."
Riae was startled to feel a faint prick of interest from her host. The human rarely paid attention to what happened outside, preferring instead to sink into a sort of half-asleep trance.
What the hosts do to amuse themselves is none of our concern,> objected Visser Four. So long as they cause no trouble, why should we care?>
A faint smile crossed the other Visser's face. "Patience. I'll get to it. While there are representatives of other races among these Storytellers, most are human, and therefore the majority of the listeners are human, since the various races are usually kept separate.
"Some ninety-five percent of the Yeerk rebels had been assigned to a Storyteller or someone who listened to one for a long period of time. I find that significant, since such hosts are a minority."
Visser Two sat, his smile growing broader. He knew he'd made his point. That overwhelming statistic had silenced even Visser Four.
There was a moment of silence. "What do you suggest we do about these Storytellers, then?" asked Visser Three, her Ssstram mouth slurring the words slightly. "If they are such a minority as you suggest, would it be best to eliminate them?"
"If you kill them off, others will pop up," Visser Five disagreed. "We must find some way of neutralizing their effects altogether."
"If we publicized their deaths--"
"Then the rebels and the other hosts would believe we had something to fear from them, and we would have more trouble than ever."
Visser One leaned thoughtfully back on his hind legs, stalk eyes searching the faces of his fellow Vissers while his main eyes respectfully looked at the screen. With the Council's permission, I suggest we not spread this news about. If you can quietly dispose of Storytellers in your regions, fine; if not, try to have them reassigned to Yeerks who will be unaffected by their speeches.>
A short pause. "The Council concurs, Visser One."
You won't get rid of them that easily,> the human host mind said. We won't forget the stories.>
Troubled, Riae searched the human's mind. Her host had never been assigned to a Storyteller's cagegroup, had heard only bits and pieces and summaries from those who had. Yet even the thought of the Storytellers brought a strange kind of determination.
The human projected a grim mental smile. You could never understand it, Yeerk. I almost feel sorry for you, for that.>
Riae carefully hid the sudden thought that overtook her, pushed it down into a far corner of her mind where it couldn't be seen, where she wouldn't have to think about it. But still it was there.
She wanted to understand.
A sudden jolt of anger pulled me from the memory and back to the present. How dare they!> Riae's mind practically shrieked. I winced mentally at the sheer volume. Something must really be wrong for me to feel her emotions with such strength, especially when I'd been in the midst of a memory-trance.
What is it?> I asked. I still couldn't see, disoriented from the transfer, but my sight was slowly clearing.
Oh--Cassandra? I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd hear me so loud.> Riae made an effort to calm herself. It didn't really help much. Those--those...> Not finding a strong enough word in either of our vocabularies, she settled for the distinctly unsatisfactory idiots! They've gone and authorized the use of a proton explosive!>
A what?! Who? Why?> I felt shock color the thought. A proton bomb was quite capable of taking out half the city, and notoriously difficult to contain properly. Anyone who would use one in an inhabited area was insane or suicidal or both.
I wish I knew. I can't find out who it was, they've covered their trail with mountains of paperwork. The only thing I can think of is that someone hasn't been reading up on their explosives, or else...>
Or else someone wants you dead.>
Let's not get paranoid. A proton bomb would be overkill. Though they'd stand a good chance of taking me out...I have to get in there and keep the team from using it.>
Wait a minute! You're going in alone?>
A sigh. The so-called team is already there, and they have a proton explosive with them. I have to. I'm waiting for a reassignment from Visser Six to get here, then I'm going in. We only have two hours. Maybe less.>
I felt a chill. From Visser Six?>
Yes, why--oh, surely you're not thinking that--you are. Come now, Cassandra, you know very well that's impossible.>
I'm not so sure.>
Riae shook our head very slightly. No, you wouldn't be, would you. Cassandra, I'm beginning to understand what you say about how the stories can bring hope. I'm trying to understand your poetry and your worldview. But this...they aren't real, Cassandra! They can't be! You made it all up!>
I know.> I couldn't help believing that in some way, the stories I created were real. Still, believing that one of them was coming true here and now was going a little far even for me.
I kept on thinking that until the com unit on the desk buzzed and the computer's voice said, "Ilie Six-Nine-Five is here."
Riae and I stared at it. A coincidence,> Riae said faintly. Ilie isn't all that rare a name, surely.>
Can't be.> I wasn't sure whether I meant it couldn't be a coincidence or that it couldn't be happening. I rather thought I meant both.
The door opened and a human woman of about twenty entered. She had long brown hair and a nervous expression. And I felt as though I knew her somehow, the same almost-familiar way I'd felt with Palinit.
"The Kandrona shine and strengthen you, Visser Thirty-Seven," she said.
Riae tried to regain her composure. "And you, Ilie Six-Nine-Five," she said. "Did you have something to tell me? I was informed you wished to speak with me privately."
The woman nodded. "I do. This is going to be hard for you to believe, but it's true...I...we've spent the last thirty years in a separate universe, one created with the Time Matrix by Karen, former host to Aftran Nine-Four-Two. There are a great many of us, and we--"
Ilie stopped, eyes fixed incredulously on Riae. The visser had begun to laugh. "This," she choked out, "is way more than I was ready for when I said I wanted to be a Storyteller."
Ilie shook her head, confused.
Riae straightened, smiling ruefully. "I believe you, Ilie. Rena."
"How--how did you know--?"
"Meet Cassandra, my host. She's been telling a story about you. How she knew, or guessed, I don't even want to know." Riae sighed. "She doesn't know. Maybe this Karen of yours does. No matter. I'll help you."
It felt rather like a story--the same detachment, the same objectivity. A story was never entirely objective, of course; always one side was preferred over another, one person followed through the action. But it didn't feel immediate, as though the Storyteller was involved in the action.
Of course, to a certain extent, that was true.
"According to the tracker on their equipment, they ought to be here," Riae said, staring around the deserted ruins. "But..."
"But they aren't," Ilie completed. She shook her head. "Maybe the tracker got left behind?"
"Unlikely, but possible," Riae sighed. "Or..." She blinked as a notion from the other presence in her mind, strangely detached at the moment, found its way through. "Or maybe they're under us."
Ilie frowned for an instant, then nodded. "Of course. It makes sense. The only place the rebels would be safe from the patrols."
"Down in the oldest Taxxon tunnels." Riae couldn't suppress a shudder. The tunnels did not have a good reputation. "The underside of society. Every government has one."
"And if they set off a proton bomb down there, under the city..."
"They wouldn't, surely."
"We can hope so." Ilie looked downward doubtfully. "I wouldn't trust it. Better to make sure. How do we get to them?"
"There used to be an entrance over that way, but it may have collapsed. The only maps of the place are decades old...I never thought I'd be going down there." Again a wave of shameful fear overcame Riae.
"What's down there that's so bad?"
Riae looked at her with faint surprise. "You haven't heard? No, of course not. I forget where you've been...Stay on Earth long enough and you hear these things. Rumors. Not stories like the Storytellers of the hosts make up, but things that happen, and nobody wants to believe...the Taxxons that grow to giant sizes on the dead, the oatmeal-affected Controllers, the escapees that live for years, maybe, down there in the darkness, forming gangs and killing one another for the privilege of a garbage dump or a polluted stream. I wish I could shrug it off as a lie, but..." She slowly shook her head. "I'm a Visser. I'm among those covering it all up."
The older human's eyes were wide. "We didn't know things had gotten so bad," she murmured softly. "I--Rena," she identified herself quickly, "I stayed in the tunnels for a while back before I found the Village...there were a few dangers, but nothing like that. It was the main hideaway for rebels and the last few members of the Peace Movement...they weren't bad, kept most of the Taxxons away and the addicts fed..."
"There was a sweep of the tunnels a few decades ago. At least they called it a sweep. They picked up most of the Taxxons and all the rebels, got rid of the oatmeal-addicted Yeerks...it only got worse, without the structure of the organized rebellion."
Ilie/Rena shook their head in dismay.
Riae began to walk toward the place she thought the entrance to be. "It was the only possible choice," she added. "They were a threat to the Yeerk Empire. Better the chaos than a full-scale rebellion." But her voice was unconvinced, and the others knew it.
There was a gaping hole leading into the underground tunnels. An old staircase had obviously collapsed long ago, but it would still be possible to clamber down the slope of rubble and into the darkness below. The two, or four, stared down into it for a long moment, then cautiously began to descend.
It was not quite pitch black in the tunnel. A sickly, pale greenish light came from the phosphorescent fungi on the walls, and rarely, one of the lights neglected for decades would flicker briefly back into dim life before dying out again. Riae jumped at every sound, Cassandra's vivid imagination for once a liability.
"Which way do we go?" Ilie whispered. The words seemed to fall dead in the tunnel, the damp walls absorbing rather than echoing them back.
"I--I'm not sure," Riae admitted. She glanced around uncertainly. "I suppose we'll just have to aim for the locator and hope the tunnels lead through."
Ilie bit her lip and nodded reluctantly. "Guess so."
The tunnels twisted and split and came together again until the pair had become almost entirely lost, choosing passages at random. Paying more attention now to the tiny glowing screen of the locator than to the surroundings, perhaps it was unsurprising that the assault, when it came, caught them utterly unprepared.
Twenty or twenty-five ragged beings of different races poured from a side tunnel in an absolute silence that was almost more frightening than the speed of their attack. Riae groped frantically for her small Dracon beam, but it seemed stuck in her pocket. Terrified, she wished that Cassandra had been a stronger host body.
Ilie had fallen into a defensive crouch. "Wait!" she called, not a yell, but loud enough to be heard. "We came to help you!"
The rush didn't slow, but Riae thought she saw one human woman signaling to the rest. In an instant they were surrounded. The Dracon beam remained just out of her grip, and Riae berated herself for not having it out and ready. She'd make a poor rebel, ignoring everything around her!
And then a deft hand neatly removed the Dracon from its place. "A Dracon beam," the girl behind her reported. "Nice quality, brand new. Yeerks, all right." Her voice held a deep contempt.
The apparent leader nodded. "Came to help, did you? Talk fast," she ordered coldly.
Riae saw Ilie--or was it Rena?--take a deep breath to steady herself. "We're with the resistance. We heard about what was going on here and Karen sent us to help out."
A man snorted in disbelief. "Karen? You're insane, whatever else you may be. Karen's a myth, a story."
"Can you afford to turn down our help?" interjected Riae desperately. "They have a proton bomb! That'll collapse the whole tunnel system! How are you going to disarm it without us?"
She'd struck a point. The leader hesitated for a long moment, and finally nodded. "You're right. They'll already have set it; they were doing that when we got away from the battle. They didn't bother to chase us." A bitter expression crossed her face. "Astonishing they felt we were important enough to come down for."
"What do we do?" asked a Hork-Bajir haltingly. Riae repressed a horrified look; half his blades were no more than stubs, cut or ripped off.
"We trust them--for now." The human aimed a look at the two which warned eloquently of their fate if they betrayed that trust. "We'll circle back around, take the lower entrance to the chamber. Midori, stay with the Yeerks. Hold onto the Dracon."
"Right," the girl behind Riae agreed. "I'll keep an eye on them."
The entire group began to move, keeping Ilie, Riae, and their guard in the center. There was very little conversation, only a couple of near-inaudible whispers between the leader and several others.
"I'll let you keep your Dracon for now," Midori said to Ilie in the same low tones, "since you didn't try to draw it on us. You may need it."
Riae turned to get a good look at the girl. She could not have been much older than Cassandra. Her matted hair might have been blond had it not been caked with filth, and her eyes were a brilliant green-blue. "Your name is Midori?" Riae asked.
"Not so loud! Yes, I'm Midori."
"You seem very young to be a member of one of the gangs," observed Ilie, her voice matching the girl's in its pitch. "Are you an escapee?"
"Not exactly. I've lived down here all my life. My mother had escaped, but she's dead now." There was a sort of weary resignation to the statement. "Caught in a crossfire. Besides, this isn't a gang, according to Faizah," and a tilt of the head indicated the leader, "it's a resistance group. I'll admit it's far better than any other gang."
"How did you join?"
Midori shot Ilie an amused look. "I was a loner. They found me. I joined. And I've proven myself enough now to be one of the most valuable members."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a thief," she said without embarrassment. "The best there is. Most all our weapons are my handiwork."
Riae remembered the nimble hand which now held her Dracon beam and privately admitted that Midori might well be an excellent thief, though she saw nothing to be proud of in it.
Do you not?> came a soft question from Cassandra. The young Storyteller was waking from her half-sleep now, accepting the unbelievable situation. It's a worthwhile skill, down here. And apparently one that not many master.>
And already she seemed to understand their captors and temporary allies better than Riae. The Yeerk sighed mentally, settling back into the parts of the human's mind that controlled memories. Unfair. I'm supposed to be the one in charge here, and you're the one who's pointing out everything to me.>
A silvery mental giggle. You're funny. I never really noticed that before.>
Riae missed a step in surprise. What did you say?>
You're funny. I never really noticed that before,> Cassandra repeated patiently.
Riae started to shake her head, caught herself in time to spare questions from her companions. What are you talking about? Why'd you sleep for so long?>
I'm not sure,> Cassandra said thoughtfully. I...had to think. To come to some conclusions.>
And did you find your conclusions?> Riae asked, curious in spite of herself. Cassandra felt too cheerful, too unconcerned, especially considering the situation they were headed into.
Can't you see?>
Riae examined her host's recent memories more closely. Except...there weren't any. They left off when Cassandra had fallen asleep and picked up only a few moments ago. There was nothing to explain the sudden change in attitude. No,> she admitted reluctantly. Have you found some way to hide your thoughts from me?>
Cassandra laughed again. Why should you be bothered if I had? But no. I haven't. Actually I don't know why I'm feeling this way. I just know everything's going to be all right.>
The confidently optimistic sense of the human's mind baffled Riae entirely. Let's hope so,> she said, and left it at that.
