Visser 3
(It is 2:00 am. I should be sleeping.) I snarled. (This better be one hell of a call.)
"I don't know what it is, for the last time." Sub-Visser 17 said snappishly, increasing her pace to match my fast trot. We were headed towards the communications quarters, where several terrified low-ranks had received an unidentified transmission.
Apparently, I was the only one in the whole yeerk pool with a high enough ranking to give them the go ahead to open communications. Which was why I had been yanked out of bed a 2:00 am by Sub-Visser 17, who had been yanked out of bed by the head of communications an hour earlier.
Needless to say, we were both two very cranky yeerks. And since we were both too high of a ranking to lash out at each other, the next sanitation Gedd we saw was most likely going to get it.
"Through here." She said, leading me into a side corridor. I sleepily followed her, feeling the floor turn from carpet to rough and tasteless dirt under my hooves.
(Well?) I demanded, as we came to a stop outside of a rusted door at the end of the hallway. (Why are we stopping?)
She pointed at a red light above the door. "Never enter unless that light is off. Things can get very crazy in there. Trust me."
I waited, tapping my hoof impatiently. (How long?) I growled after thirty seconds.
"I don't know." She said, shrugging. "The record is- Well, maybe you don't want to know the record."
I glared at the red light with all four of my stalk eyes. It shined back.
(Go off.) I told it privately. It stayed red.
(Go off!) I commanded it. It defiantly continued to be red.
So I waited patiently.
I waited calmly.
I waited quietly.
It still didn't go off.
(That is i-) I began.
"Rrr-whee whee whee Rrr-Whee Whee Whee." A rough voice whistled, accompanied by the squeaking of a cleaning trolley.
I turned my stalk eyes around, and glared sinisterly at the gedd behind me. A pale green smock and matching gloves hung from it's bony form.
"Rrr-whee?" It whistled in a puzzled voice.
(Go clean somewhere else.) I commanded it. (We're in the middle of a small empire-wide emergency.)
"Rrr- I'm authorized to clean down here from eleven to-" It started, but then stopped talking abruptly. Having your head removed can do that to you.
A nasty look crossed Sub-Visser 17's face as some gedd blood flowed around her shoes. "Visser 3!"
(What?) I said, shrugging. (I'm sure- No, wait. Never mind, I just killed him.)
"Funny." Sub-Visser 17 said, rolling her eyes. God, if she was three ranks lower I would have shown her something even funnier. "Hopefully the reeking corpse doesn't draw every taxxon in the place."
(Is the light off yet?) I asked, wiping my tail blade on a dust rag.
"No." She growled, sucking her teeth. "If their transmission is so damn important, why are we-"
She trailed off, listening to a loud thumping noise coming from the other side of the door. After a few moment of scritching and scratching, the door flew open and a yellow blur whirled past us.
(Finally.) I said, ignoring the taxxon, which was making triumphant skreeing noises and feasting on Gedd guts. I rubbed my stalk eyes and walked through the door-
-and into chaos. Hork-Bajir and humans were whizzing around on human rolly-chair things, stretching various wires across the cavernous room and yelling things.
"-Grash fleet 629 to rendezvous D-87!-"
"-And councilor seven is ordering a new host-"
"-And, then, like, he totally should have been-"
"-Visser 26 scheduled for feeding-"
"-Homeworld And redirect Empire Ship Madra to Earth orbit-"
"Visser 3 is here!"
Everything went totally quiet. A few chairs slammed into each other, and a speeding Hork-Bajir toppled into a coil of wires. I guess the sight of me naturally commanded respect.
(What is so important,) I hissed quietly. (That I had to be woken up 2:00 am?)
A very, very large Hork-Bajir stood up. I immediately recognized him as Eoran 859, one of the few yeerks left who were with us from the beginning. After his host lost his left arm on the Taxxon homeworld (and survived, which is no mean feat when you're surrounded by taxxons), he retired to Communications. We weren't exactly friends, but we both respected each other. The younger yeerks in the empire had no idea what it took back then to rise in power. Nowadays you could find a planet covered with useless, backwards primates and they'd make you Visser 1.
"Esplin, we received unidentified transmissions on port 87." He said. "And at the same time, the radar center said the planet perimeter alarms went crazy. We need Visser-level clearance to establish contact."
Sub-Visser 17 grumbled something unintelligible as I trotted over to the console.
On the screen was a list of numbers, along with information for each port. Number 87 was flashing, with the words 'Unidentified connection type." to the right of it. I signaled the computer to connect, and the large screen flickered to life, with an empty blue bar in the center.
"Decoding transmission patterns." A mechanical voice said. "5 percent."
Great, more waiting. Tension filled the air, and everyone had abandoned all pretense of working. All eyes were on the blue bar.
"Loading 40 percent."
"Do you think there's time to get some coffee?" Sub-Visser 17 yawned. A Hork-Bajir female made shushing noises and handed her a thermos.
"Loading 69 percent."
I blinked my stalk eyes rapidly and assumed a powerful leader-like stance. Whatever was on the other side of that connection, the correct image had to be presented.
"Loading 89 percent."
I stood in front of the monitor and shuffled my hoof.
"Turn around, Turn around!" Eoran whispered hurriedly. "The camera is the other way, our first contact with an unknown alien species will be a close-up of your rear!"
"Loading 99 percent."
I twisted myself around, redirected my stalk eyes, and pushed Sub-Visser 17 out of the way just as a the connection was established. The monitor came to life, and all of my hearts stopped beating.
It was a picture of Earth. A live video-feed of the planet, our beautiful, host-rich, currently-inhabited-by-Visser 3 planet, surrounded by a fleet of monstrous ships. They were all diverse and intricately built, some sleek and jet black, some curved and golden, and other unique ships that looked like they belonged in an art archive. The one quality that they all did share was a rapidly rotating, mothership sized black cylinder on their bellies. And they made up only about a tenth of the ship mass. The other nine tenths probably consisted mainly of weapons.
"A humble and friendly greeting seems to be in order." Eoran said, clutching the console tightly for support.
Sub-Visser 17 seemed unfazed. "Please. Humble, Friendly, and Visser 3 don't even belong in the same sentence together. The planet will be a scorched lump of space coal within the next five minutes."
Eoran clamped a hand over her mouth as the direct connection kicked in. A pale face appeared, very similar to a human's. Long, gleaming, silver-white hair framed the thin face. The eyes were small and golden, and on either side were ears, large and pointed. The nose was small and delicate looking. I saw several human controllers go limp in their chairs. Well, most parts of them.
"Greetings, representatives of the yeerk empire." she said. The voice was light and musical, resonating perfectly through the room and causing my knees to wobble and tears to come to my eyes. What the – Andalites didn't have tearducts!
(Habba-duh.) Alloran informed me privately. Thankfully, I wasn't relying on him for any conversational matters.
(Greetings, alien.) I said. (I can't help but notice that your anatomy resembles that of the dominant lifeform on this planet.)
"The resemblance is purposeful." She said, smiling. "We wish to blend in with the earthlings."
(Why?) I asked.
"Our endless war with the Beyta kind have left our numbers decimated." She said, with a slight frown. "We require the bodies of other species to reproduce. Humans are the perfect hosts."
(You use their bodies?) I demanded. (To lay your eggs in or something?)
"Close enough." She smiled.
(We require these humans.) I said. Sub-Visser 17, obviously fazed now, was making desperate gestures towards the screen with the massive fleet. Eoran held his head in his hand.
"Yet we require them also." She said. She smiled again. "Perhaps a compromise can be reached?"
(The yeerk empire makes no compromises.) I said.
"Are you quite sure?" She said, with a sorrowful look on her face.
Sub-Visser 17 make a sort of quiet, wrangled pleading noise.
(Yes.) I said.
"Then prepare to die, yeerk." She snarled darkly, and ended the transmission abruptly.
There was complete silence.
"Why?" Sub-Visser 17 moaned. "What possessed you to declare war on a species that has earth surrounded by warships? They could wipe out this place a thousand times over and still have enough firepower left to destroy half of Asia!"
(Shut up.) I said, marching for the exit. (Just shut up, before I do something that you're going to regret.)
I slammed the door behind me and stormed back to the main yeerk pool.
(ATTENTION!) I bellowed. (Everyone is to cease all other activities, and prepare to defend the yeerk pool!)
Everyone stopped moving.
(WELL?) I screamed.
"You have to direct them." Sub-Visser 17 sighed, coming up behind me. "They wouldn't know a planet defense plan if they infested it."
She looked expectantly at me.
(I missed the planetary defense training lesson.) I said helplessly. She shook her head.
"Scramble the bug fighters!" She yelled. "Man the dracon cannons! Seal the entrances! I want every yeerk inside of a host, now! And for emperor's sake, make sure you have a dracon beam!"
Yeerks began scrambling to obey her orders. I blinked.
"Well, maybe we can at least take a few of them with us." She muttered.
Slowly, the wheels in my tired brain began turning. (Sub-Visser, you'd be a genius if you weren't so stupid. Where's Jer-Yee? I need somebody to pilot my Blade ship.)
Sub-Visser 17 suddenly began coughing and rubbing her throat. She continued for several minutes, until she ran out of air and had to breathe.
(Is something wrong with your host?) I demanded. (Answer me!)
"Jer-Yee two has been missing for days, sir." She said, cringing away from me involuntarily. "And the hunt for his host has so far been unsuccessful."
(Didn't I order her found?) I yelled. (Who was in charge of this operation?)
"Iniss 52!" She said.
(Another one of Iniss's relatives.) I snorted. (Their whole spawn branch is pathetic. I'm going to pay a visit to the late Iniss 52, and when I come back there had better be a pilot waiting for me!)