I was free of the Yeerk Esplin, yes, but now I found myself shackled – re-shackled, really – by my own people. I retained the rank of War Prince, and with that came many obligations. Many, many obligations, when one was the honored guest of a Captain whose sole purpose in life seemed to be sadistically thwarting one's plans.

In some ways, I understood Asculan's position – one could not maintain control of a fleet, or even a Dome Ship, by first running decisions by the former host-body of one's greatest enemy. But though the Andalites of all peoples should understand the difference between host and Yeerk, it was becoming obvious that few honestly could.

I found it strange, this feeling of confinement within the great structure that was the Andalite military. For so long it had been my very life and, while I had not always agreed with the decisions of individual Princes - or even the Electorate - I strove always to advance our cause. And now, free after all of these years of forced treason, I could see only flaws in our once-noble race.

The humans were correct to describe us as arrogant, but once this would not have bothered me; once it would have been a mark of pride. Now in the blindness of my people I saw all of my old mistakes being made anew. Now I looked upon the haughty attitudes of the Captain and his crew and saw something to be subverted, used toward the fulfillment of my own goals. Their refusal to acknowledge Arbron's great value, the assumption that Toby Hamee was naught but a stupid Hork-Bajir, that they disdained the female aristh and ignored the nothlit Tobias…these were things I could use.

The question was: use to do what. I did not have a record of excellent independent decision-making, and while I could see the levers one might pull to triumph over the Captain's supposed personal conquest of Earth, I no longer had a specific goal. The Hork-Bajir Toby Hamee did, but while I understood her determination and her interest in me, her plan lacked any consideration for the Andalite species. For all of my personal quandaries, this seemed to me a grave and ubiquitous oversight: at the moment, no one seemed very concerned for the Andalites at all, and it would soon become our downfall.

The selection of Aximili as the liaison to Earth was but the tip of this problem. I knew well that the only worse candidate would have been the elder brother himself, but Aximili's long connection with the group of young humans had convinced the commanding officers of his suitability. Never mind that this association was itself a source of liability, or that Aximili was, as I had had ample opportunity to observe, a deeply unbalanced young Andalite. This was regretful and yet hardly surprising, and made our burgeoning relations with the humans all the more tenuous.

Not that anyone had asked for my opinion. Not that I might have any insight into either species; not that Esplin had once pored over all the Yeerks' collected knowledge of this new host species as thoroughly as he had the Andalites. And certainly not that Aximili could not even talk to these humans of his; not that he avoided his Prince as if abjectly afraid. Not at all.

Of course, Prince Aximili had dozens of excuses ready for the commanding officers he would soon have to placate, but none fooled me. It was clear that Aximili was prepared to avoid Earth indefinitely, even if he had to permanently cut ties with the humans to do so. He probably even saw it as something of a neat ending: what Elfangor began with such passion and willful ardor, Aximili will end coolly, conscientiously, for the good of all involved.

It was equally clear that he hadn't yet seen fit to mention any of this to the humans. They had finally reached a consensus and were scheduled to be reestablished on Earth late tomorrow, the sixth day after the final battle. The various publishing and media agents had been notified, and reports from the planet confirmed that Aximili was expected to be in attendance. Aximili was, by his own admission, of an entirely different mind. It was far from clear what he expected to do instead, but he was adamant that he would not be returning to Earth.

When asked, the aristh Estrid had only cryptically remarked, ‹Prince Aximili himself does not know what Prince Aximili will do.

And, indeed, this seemed to summarize the situation quite nicely.

----

‹You know what I don't get?

It was the nothlit, the strange creature who was somehow both human and the son of Elfangor. He seemed both reluctant to acknowledge me and eager to talk. The reluctance was likely his shorm Aximili's doing: I could hardly imagine that the young Prince was taking kindly to my continued interest in his activities.

‹No,› I replied to Tobias. ‹I do not.

This was, I knew, the proper response to this style of human questioning. Any other answer would have merely goaded him to anger.

‹I don't get how you fit into this. I don't get that at all.

I laughed. It felt good; it was the first time in years I had been so utterly amused by something. Tobias's hawk form seemed to regard me warily.

‹And you imagine that I understand?› I asked.

‹I did,› he admitted, ‹but you don't really, do you? No one does. Arbron says that you guys went to the Taxxon homeworld, and that's where he became a nothlit, but even he doesn't understand what happened afterward.

‹Tobias,› I asked quietly, humor gone, suddenly replaced with my need to repeat this strange question, ‹do you believe in Ellimists?

Now it was Tobias who laughed, long and bitterly. ‹You're asking the morph-capable nothlit, you're asking Bird-boy, if he believes in the Ellimist. I've seen time stopped, the Hork-Bajir saved, gone on field trips in the past, and you wonder if I believe in the mastermind behind it all?

Again, I was surprised.

‹You have interacted with one of these creatures? Directly?

He nodded, an almost comical movement of his dangerous bird's head. ‹Direct enough to kill.

‹But that is impossible!

‹Think so?

He was right. Of course it was not impossible; it was just radically beyond anything I knew, anything our science accepted. But, as he said, so was a morphing nothlit. And I had posed the question; I myself acknowledged that only the interference of such a powerful being could properly account for my many, fragmented memories. Dimly, as if the memory of a dream, I could hear it still: the all-encompassing laughter.

‹He...he moved us. Somewhere, some-when,› I said slowly, remembering. ‹But that was already after. Esplin was...I tried...Elfangor was there, and the girl. Both of the humans were there, but it was she who interested Esplin. He never found her, on Earth. He found the Chapman host, but never the yellow-haired one.

‹Wait,› Tobias interrupted, ‹Chapman?

I shook my head, trying to clear the multitude of thoughts. ‹Yes. Esplin was almost fond of him. He was – he was Esplin's first human host. Before.

Before. Before my infestation, I meant. Before I became a traitor to my people in the purest way possible; before my mind was opened to the most cunning of our enemies, the one who had known from the beginning that this was the way to conquer my people. Esplin had wanted us already on the Hork-Bajir world, when my only thought was of stemming the Yeerk conquest of a race of warriors; he had known the moment he saw us what we were, trying to hide in the Taxxon bodies...he would have taken Elfangor, he would have taken even Aldrea, but I was so much more delectable...!

‹Tobias?› My thought-speech sounded shaken, even to me.

‹Yes?

‹I...please get Aximili. There is much I must tell you.

As I watched Tobias fly away, I thought about what else I must do: I had to talk to Esplin. I had to know what he remembered. It was ridiculous, terrifying, would brand me a traitor a hundred times over to anyone who learned of it, but I could not bear this not-knowing. The story that had been unfolding within my mind these past days had finally stretched out, vast and familiar. Of course the boy was here; of course he was Elfangor's son. Of course Arbron. Of course, even, Toby Hamee, great-great-grandchild of the Prince I once believed responsible for all of this.

Only I saw the whole of it; only I had been there for everything. Only I...and Esplin.

----

The human called Cassie still held the Yeerk slug, now safely encased in a modern version of the portable generators my Prince Seerow had designed so long ago. It was absurd to leave him with the human child, yet no better candidate was available. Though I had once raged against the pathetically passive decision not to simply execute my former tormentor, I was now glad he was in such safe hands. Good that we eventually allow him to speak for himself, yes, but even better that he was now available when I had such need to speak to him.

It was not apparent, however, how this would be accomplished. We could not allow him any manner of host, as any creature capable of communicating was far too dangerous to entrust to Esplin. Nor was the communication device our scientists had been set to devise anywhere near ready for use. Even if it had been, it hardly would have been put at my disposal.

In the end, it was Cassie who found the solution, as distasteful as it was to both of us.

"You morph him," she said simply, her dark eyes staring intently up at me. The words made me shiver in disgust. Bad enough to have lived with him inside my head, but to become him?

"I've morphed a Yeerk," she continued. "It's not as if you'll even need to take a host; all you want to do is talk to him. We can't really get his permission, of course, but..."

In this moment, with a brief flash of insight, I realized how lucky I was to have approached only Cassie. I did not like to imagine what would have happened if the other humans had been present. As it was, I was not certain I could trust even her.

‹Yes,› I agreed. ‹Only to speak to him. And best that I do it as a fellow...Yeerk. I do not think I could tolerate any other method.

Cassie looked at me sadly. "It must have been so awful. Even we – the Animorphs, I mean – we never...we would have killed you both, I think, if we could have."

I nodded, understanding. As I slid my hand into the warm liquid of the tank, I said quietly, ‹I wanted you to.

Acquiring Esplin was easy. The method itself is relatively simple, of course, but I was as familiar with this Yeerk as with myself. My fingers rested against his small body gently, at ease. I had hated him, I had feared him, and now...

That was a thought better left unfinished.

I looked at Cassie with my main eyes, scanning the area for a final time with my stalks. It was private, as isolated as was possible in this great Dome. I stepped closer to her so as to not be long outside the viscous environment so essential to Yeerks, and began the morph. I became Esplin.

Despite myself, I savored this morph, the first in so very long. The sensations themselves were disquieting, the disappearance of the senses I relied upon never failing to disturb me. I shrank, falling and falling toward the ground as my fur was replaced with the thick slime-layer and my organs with a complex system of percolating fluids.

I remembered the first time I had seen the strange aliens, the way they had seemed so insignificant. I remembered joking with a friend that it was amazing anyone had even realized that they were intelligent, and him replying that he still was not certain they were. I remembered Prince Seerow's trust and kindness. And, as I turned into my most hated enemy, I saw how everything I had done, every reaction I had to each unfolding event of this war, had lead to this moment, and all the moments that came before. Then, just as I realized that I now was my supposed enemy, I felt pressure around me and, through the Yeerk's skin, tasted the salt of a human touch. I was held briefly, then I was free, floating in warm currents and the gentle benevolence of the Kandrona rays.

I felt the touch of another! And yet, not. It was as if I were looking in one of the human's mirrors, seeing another of my own flesh. The question that this not-other seemed to have asked reflected my confusion.

‹Brother?

In that moment, the answer was yes. I no longer knew who I was, who this was. I was too far gone to understand the context of the question, to realize that Esplin 9466 Prime believed that, incomprehensibly, he had been presented with his true twin. Instead, I simply opened my thoughts to this other-me in an almost instinctual way, bonding with his communication palps.

‹Alloran!› came the shocked revelation and, with that, I remembered. Yes, Alloran. Yes, me.