Author's note: (( and )) denote thoughtspeak. The full title of this chapter is The Russian and Molokov/Where I Want To Be

"wasting the Empire's force on this puny class-four species…a perversion of strategy…the concept of fools…Ashamed? Only that I must refute this laughable idea…"

Efflit 1318 scornfully terminated the telecast. "This shouldn't be difficult."

((Efflit, what are you doing? )) Visser Three swooshed his host's tail as he walked through his quarters on the Empire Ship.

"Saving you from this rhetoric." Efflit turned to face his superior.

((Turn it back on,)) he commanded. ((If he's so arrogant about his tactics, he might have a reason behind them. With any luck, he'll give a hint of them before the meeting today.))

"Today? A bit idealistic, aren't we?"

Once a generation, Yeerks invading various planets met to discuss the most appropriate strategies. Though on some it was just a formality (the Taxxon "debate" had consisted of bureaucratic tedium over which lines of longitude food supply bases belonged at), tensions were escalating for the Earth one already. It was no secret that the Visser, still resentful that the Council of Thirteen had rejected his militaristic proposal, was preparing for another try. He would be opposed by the current spearhead of the invasion, credited for the discovery of the planet, Sub-Visser One. Though the Visser outranked his rival, he knew not to underestimate him.

Evidently, Efflit did not. "It'll go on a lot longer than one day."

((I'm aware of that. Turn the telecast back on.))

"You can do that yourself," Efflit muttered petulantly.

((I'm saving my energy.))

"Yes, and you'll save more if you don't waste it worrying about this…Sub-Visser."

((And be completely unprepared when the meeting begins. Which I assume you don't want, given your devotion to my policies.))

"It's your policies I support, Visser." The "not you" was almost audible.

((But you're not the figurehead, and if I fail, you won't take the blame.))

"There are plenty of high-ranking people who support this cause."

((But apparently none more capable than you to be my assistant.))

Efflit hadn't stayed alive by picking every fight that he could. "Perhaps you need some time to ponder this yourself."

((Yes, perhaps.)) The Visser's tail blade arched, almost in boredom.

Efflit exited coolly, his Dracon beam hanging limply in his host's left hand. Once he was safely out of the Visser's private quarters, he smirked as he unclenched his right. The transponder was in it. If nothing else, he could keep the Visser from fixating on that.

But no one could have kept the Visser's mind from its turbulent wanderings. Essam and the future didn't concern him as he paced around his room: it was the past that troubled him. He had no logical reason why: by any and all accounts, he was wildly successful. The only Andalite-Controller, a high-ranking Visser, and if Efflit's boasts were any indication, a sure victor in the meeting.

And yet emptiness plagued him, gnawed at his mind. Quantum voids surged and merged with Alloran's silent protests. He dedicated his energy to repressing them, but that only empowered them, recognition the reward they craved.

He didn't know what he was doing on the planet at all. The humans were weak: though he didn't like to admit it, the bumbler outside could have taken them with the necessary authority. He had discovered them, and who was taking the credit? That pathetic Sub-Visser! He reached for the transponder. Not finding it, he returned to normal consciousness and searched for it, which consisted of throwing various objects around until he gave up. A dangerous resignation, as the malaise resumed.

He was no idealist, and understood that the Sub-Visser would never respect him for his accomplishment. That was fine, he didn't need approval from people like him. Efflit, even the Council…He did not want their thanks, but didn't know what he did want.

It had been a long journey since his spawning, and not just in light-years. He'd ascended through the ranks, creating opportunities for others and destroying just as many. Though not yet a Councilor, that wasn't necessary for him: he liked the fighting more than interminable politics, which explained much of his annoyance at being there.

Essam was an opponent, though, as assuredly as those Andalite bandits. He would try to enjoy as much of the strategy session as he could. The frustration of politics manifested itself when he had to deal with people like Efflit. An appointment from some distant council, the annoying low-rank took his responsibility too seriously. The Visser had no idea what he was getting in return: the chance to harass him, perhaps, which too many people wanted. Assassination attempts were crude, but there were subtler ways of hurting a Yeerk's reputation. He hadn't been behind many of them for a long time, but his underlings might have, or people vaguely aligned with him. He got all the blame.

And the corresponding credit? An envied rank with the chance, nothing more, of leading the invasion of a planet of which he was responsible for the Yeerks' knowledge. Was he a fool to ask for more?

It had not come without sacrifice. Studying the Andalites fastidiously, he had endured the taunts of people who didn't believe they could be defeated. They had their weaknesses, as surely as he had his, but his had not been exploited. Yet.

It would be sadly ironic if his real threat was not one of the Sub-Visser's subordinates, but one of his own. Efflit was cocky, always looking for another edge…Having so many people working for him-vaguely aligned with his beliefs would perhaps be a better term-had a downside. Or maybe having the illusion of control over them was the smaller upside to a larger issue-or a downside in its own right.

There would always be those who believed they could topple the top. Perhaps he had wanted to be on the Council in his youth: he couldn't remember. That was his true sacrifice along the way: the loss of the passion that had got him there. Now, his force was dedicated to remaining where he was: entrenching the social order-the same one that let people like Essam dictate strategy.

And if-when-he was victorious in that, too? An all-out war against the backward people? Conquest, ultimately, of the Andalite homeworld? He already had an Andalite host: where was his loyalty to the Empire, to the people that rewarded Essam, that wanted to see all of them outfitted in hosts like his? He would no longer be an anomaly…Only the leader of a past success. The past blurred everything, taking his struggle with it.

He had fantasized of being what he was, and now, he had nothing left to dream of.