Enter, The Visser ordered.
The doorway silently irised open, allowing the Hork-Bajir Controller to step inside. Inclining his head respectfully, the Controller addressed him.
"We have located the Andalite ship, Visser Thirty-two."
Excellent. I will come to the bridge shortly.
The Hork-Bajir Controller inclined his head once more, and left without another word. Casting a last fleeting glance at the projector with his left stalk-eye, the Visser followed his lead.
What is it about this armored alien that is so fascinating to you, you filthy Yeerk?
Keep asking, I may answer you someday.
Visser Thirty-two chuckled coldly as Alloran fumed, he was truly starting to enjoy this. Reaching the bridge Visser Thirty-two assumed his normal station in the center of the triangular area.
Onscreen.
An image of the nebula, which was called the Graysha by some species that the Visser didn't know about, appeared on the forward screen. The Blade ship then began scanning the surrounding area for the homing signal.
I thought the Yeerks knew every species in the galaxy, Alloran sneered.
Be silent, slave.
The transmission signal flashed, notifying him of an incoming message. Pressing the link conformation panel, Visser Thirty-two waited to find out who had contacted his ship. And why.
The most unexpected face appeared on the screen. So his old friend Elfangor was calling, how strangely gratifying. Crossing his arms, Visser Thirty-two faced the holo-screen with an expression of supreme confidence.
Ah, Elfangor, I believe. Still have the Time Matrix, I hope? I'm here to take it from you.
The picture shifted slightly, from a prerecorded still to a live feed. Elfangor was glaring at him, livid rage barely held back by a thin veneer of grudging civility.
So, Sub-Visser Seven. You survived. Too bad, Elfangor said harshly.
I did survive, Visser Thirty-two said, feeling the need to brag. But you almost got me there, you really did. And by the way, it's no longer Sub-Visser Seven. I'm the first Yeerk to capture an Andalite body. I have already delivered more intelligence on Andalite fleet deployments than a century of spying could have yielded. So it's not Sub-Visser anything anymore. You are now addressing Visser Thirty-two.
Elfangor was unaware of the fact that the human Loren, obviously still a Controller, was coming up behind him. Aiming a Dracon beam at his upper-back, and waiting for the right moment. Concealing his surprise and delight, Visser Thirty-two waited to hear Elfangor's response. Knowing that he wouldn't have to listen for long.
You're still just a slug as far as I'm concerned. You want the Time Matrix? Come and take it from me. I promise you --
TSSSSEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!
Elfangor was cut off quite promptly as Loren shot him in the back. The screen deactivated as he fell, and Loren's grinning image vanished. Visser Thirty-two didn't waste any time for self-congratulation at the moment, instead watching as Loren powered down Alloran's ship, the Jahar. Powering up the Blade ship's own engines, Visser Thirty-two glided up to the smaller craft.
Calmly, he watched as the Jahar grew larger and larger in the forward screen. He wondered briefly why Loren had not contacted him yet, but he figured that she had her own troubles. Restraining an Andalite, even one who was unconscious, would not be an easy task.
Brushing aside his idle musings, Visser Thirty-two deactivated the engines and let his craft coast for a few seconds, before activating the retro-rockets and bringing the Blade ship to a dead stop. He was growing a bit impatient with Loren's lack of response, but he held it in check. Barely.
Preparing his boarding tube and fitting it to the Jahar's hull, he waited for the hatch to open. Impatient, Visser Thirty-two sped up the process, throwing the hatch open with a resonating boom. Someone inside the ship fired a Shredder, hitting one of the Hork-Bajir Controllers and knocking her out.
Going around the comatose Hork-Bajir, Visser Thirty-two fired his own Dracon beam. It hit the traitorous Human-Controller Loren, rendering her unconscious just as she had done with the Hork-Bajir. Visser Thirty-two was enraged that one of his most loyal lieutenants had betrayed him and sided with the Andalite filth.
But, could it be that Salan Nine-One-Four had not betrayed him, and instead been forced to abandon his human host? Now that he thought about it, that seemed more likely. He remembered that Salan had been at the end of his feeding cycle when he had been ordered to infest Loren, and he berated himself for not choosing a Yeerk from the pool instead of enlisting Salan.
But there was no time for such thoughts now, killing Elfangor took precedence. Stepping over Loren, Visser Thirty-two raised his Dracon beam. And something large slammed into the Jahar with an audible crash.