I was not completely sure how capable Chapman was of maneuvering a human vehicle, but judging by the number of rude gestures we received, he was driving improperly.

"Um... Dad? Shouldn't we slow down?"

"No time to waste," her father answered cheerfully, swinging in front of an oddly shaped car with a hollow back.

"Dad, that truck just flipped you off," Melissa pointed out. "I don't think we're driving all that safely."

I could see Chapman's hands twitching on the wheel; I could see his red face. His bloodshot eyes, or at least what I could see of them reflected in the rearview mirror, were insane.

"Melissa, honey, Daddy needs to use the facilities," he grated.

She blinked. "Oh. Sorry."

"Yeah." The car went faster, if possible.

Use the facilities for what? I considered asking my question, but decided that I'd settle for living through the car ride.

Chapman put his hand over hers -- thus piloting with only one hand, which really did nothing for my optimistic hopes of survival. "I really am glad you want to become a full member, Melissa. It'll be a great chance for us to spend more time together."

Melissa looked at his hand. "Dad..."

I shifted in the back seat so I could see what she was staring at -- the hand was spasming. So, I noticed, was his left ear. The side of his face towards Melissa was normal, but I wondered what the left half looked like. Unfortunately, as it was close to the window, I had no room to look. Chapman suddenly hunched over, withdrawing his hand and clenching his jaw muscles. His face stopped twitching.

How did this man ever become an assistant principal? He's crazy!

"The cops are going to pull you over," Melissa resumed, after a moment, as if not knowing what else to say. "Where are the cops, anyway? Man. They'd find me if I drove like this."

"You only have your shhhhermit." His speech suddenly slurred, and then became halting. "I'm a... licensed... driver."

"So, you're saying you're licensed to drive like this?" Suddenly she stopped dead. "Dad... were you drinking...?"

He grunted in response. "Of course n... maybe a... little," he muttered. "I... Melissa... Melissa!"

Please just let us make it into a parking space, I silently begged our demented driver. Ahead of us, Tom, having come to take part in the induction ceremony, was pulling into the lot.

Suddenly Chapman's hands jerked the wheel. As we entered the parking lot behind Tom, the car swerved sharply and crashed through the brightly colored "Welcome to the Sharing" sign. Melissa screamed; I cowered, thrown across the back seat.

The vehicle screeched to a halt. All three of us pitched forward; Chapman and Melissa were hurled against the human safety restraints, but I hadn't worn one, so I just hit the back of their seats.

Melissa and I were frozen. I was seriously rethinking my decision to join this lunatic's organization.

Chapman whimpered, shaking. He fixed his eyes on Melissa and moaned in a low, guttural voice.

"Daddy...?"

"Run!"

Then his right hand slapped his own face. "You idiot!" he roared. "You've only made it certain! Certain, Chapman, do you hear me? You are ours! She is ours!"

Melissa hit a button on her door. The car locks surrendered and we stumbled out.

"He's crazy," I panted. Then I fell. Something hit me hard from behind, and all I saw was the dark smile of Tom Berenson.


"Unh," I mumbled.

[Good morning, Kylie. Slept well?]

"Yaaaaah!" I jerked hard on the cold floor, but only about half as far as I'd intended to. My limbs slid back to where they'd been, and slowly my upper body rose, putting me in a sitting position. My hands placed themselves on the floor to keep me upright.

I tried to scream. The voice chuckled. [Bad Kylie. My vocal chords.]

[What the --] I stopped dead, realizing I had not even spoken audibly -- just in a silent cry.

[I know, I know, it really is disconcerting. But on the bright side, you're a full member now!]

[Melissa!] I shouted.

[She can't hear you.] I felt my eyes turn to stare at her, seemingly of their own accord. She was waking up, her body mechanically moving to assume a position similar to mine on the warehouse floor. Her eyes were glazed. Her arms and legs twitched.

Twitched. [Chapman,] I guessed. [You're in his head, too.]

[Not completely correct,] it answered, [but astute nonetheless. One of us is in his head, yes. We're called Yeerks. Garden slugs, really. A garden slug is your master, ha-ha. How does it feel?]

[Garden slug?]

It paused. [You don't know what a slug is? They're everywhere on this planet.]

I was silent, but apparently that didn't matter; I felt it tearing through my mind. [Aaah! Stop!]

He ignored me. Suddenly, I felt like something had stiffened around my brain. Its voice was shaky with excitement. [The hell!]

It knew, I realized. And it laughed. [Yes! Every Yeerk's dream come true -- a unique host body! Let's see what secrets fill your mind, Dalenite!] It rummaged cheerfully through my mind. [Sycaili? Si-ky-lee. Nice name, really. I've never heard of these Dalenites, but apparently they're gone anyway -- pity; one less set of host bodies. Very moving history, there. Well, consider it a life lesson,] it added, closing my memories for the moment. [This planet belongs to us. If other aliens come, we'll conquer them too. Like I have conquered you.]

[What is a slug?] I demanded weakly, refusing to understand what it was talking about. Or maybe just incapable of understanding.

[Easier to show you than tell you.] A picture zapped into my mind: a grey, slime-covered glob, really; hideous and apparently flexible enough to curl around a brain. To curl around my brain. Disgusting, I thought. I felt revulsion.

But it felt revulsion, too, revulsion for itself, and that didn't surprise me as much as it maybe should have -- I know what self-hatred is, I thought bitterly.

[No, you don't,] it snapped, evidently reading my mind. [You don't, Kylie -- Sycaili -- the Dalenite turned human.]

[Who are you?]

[I have no designation.] It considered. [But since you don't know anything about Yeerks anyway, you don't know what the significance of that is.]

I waited, but it didn't continue. [What is it, then?] I tried to probe its memories. It laughed at me again.

[The involuntary information flows only one way. You know nothing except what I give you.]

[But you know everything about me,] I argued. [I have a right to know something about you.]

[Yeerks don't believe in justice. We believe in facts, so let me give you a few facts.] It paused to gather its thoughts. [Hmm. Well. You are a slave. My slave, specifically. You will never run, walk, crawl, stand, or sit on your own again. You will never have an unsupervised thought. I will laugh at and mock you every second of your life. I would destroy your family if you still had one. I am evil. You exist to serve me and I will make your life hell.]

[Because yours is?]

It snorted. [Sure. Because mine is. At any rate -- once every three days I will feed on Kandrona rays in the Yeerk pool below the ground of this place] -- a picture of a cavern filled my consciousness, an illustration for his speech -- [and you will be free, for a minute or two. Sort of. Chained and caged and all that, but you'll have access to your own neurological centers, which is something, isn't it?]

I made no response. It seemed surprised. [You're taking this well,] it observed. [Wait. Hah. You're relieved! You don't want to make choices anymore, do you? You've screwed up enough. You're glad to surrender your control, you weak fool.]

Still no response. Still no concession. I wasn't being strong. I was just too numb to answer.

[Well, give it a few days.] My parasite's warning was indifferent. [Your apathy won't last long.]