Chapter 20
We got to the shack without incident. Once inside, I put the man face down on the ground, more gently than he deserved. Marco and Ax got to work, tying some more rope over the tape already on his wrists. They then tied his legs together at the ankles. Using the last bit of rope, they strung the knots at his ankles to the knots on his hands, drawing his legs up to his back until he was trussed up as neatly as a rodeo calf.
When this was done, he rolled over onto his side and glared at the three of us inside of the shack – me, Marco, and Ax. He glared especially hard at Ax, who pretended not to notice. (Well, that's finished,) he said with the attitude of someone finishing a particularly nasty bit of cleaning. (Shall we depart?)
The three of us turned to leave the shack, and for the first time, the controller started making noise. He was still gagged, but he was squirming and going, "Mmm! Mmm!" When I turned back, his eyes were wide and desperate. It made me feel better. Finally, this controller was acting like we expected him to.
I watched him wiggle violently in his bindings for a minute. (Marco, are you sure those knots are going to hold up to three days of this?) I asked.
He shrugged his big gorilla shoulders. (Ax tied them.)
(I believe they will hold,) Ax said. (I looked them up on the internet. They are called running slipknots, and the more he struggles, the tighter they should become. I quite like the art of human knot-making,) he added.
Not that I didn't trust Ax, but I didn't trust any knot to hold up to seventy-two hours of squirming by a desperate controller. I leaned down to speak to him again. "Human stop grafash struggle. We watch. You die if move."
When I said this, he started struggling even harder. His muffled yells became more urgent, and he rocked back and forth. I could see the way his hands were turning white – he was starting to cut off the circulation as he writhed. Ax saw it, too. (He knows we mean to leave him here. Perhaps he has decided that if he's going to die, he will take his host with him.)
(How do we stop him? Knock him out?) Marco wondered.
(We can't keep him unconscious for three days. We can't even stay out here with him.) I thought about it for a minute. (Maybe if we let him say his piece, he'll chill out.) Marco untied the gag, and the man coughed and wheezed for a second. Then he spoke for the first time.
His voice was polite, cultured, and over-the-top creepy. He soundedlike the sort of self-educated jerk who though he was smarter than everyone else. It made it easier to dislike him, as if we needed another reason. "I realize you Andalites' plan. You mean to leave me here and starve me to death. That is fine – I accept my fate. I will have you know, however, that this human will continue to kill other humans whether I am controlling him or not."
I was still in my role as a Hork-bajir. I also knew this Yeerk would say anything to survive. "Human shut up. Hrrilit, you -"
"No, you shut up, Andalite," he hissed. "Knock off that damned Hork-bajir idiot talk. We both know what you really are. I did not insult your intelligence by pretending to be the human I control. Do not insult mine."
(What we are is irrelevant, Yeerk,) Ax spat. (We would not hear your lies for longer than we must, so say whatever falsehoods you think will convince us to set you free and let us be on our way.)
The Yeerk made the man smile – in my opinion, it made the guy look exceedingly ugly. "I won't lie to you, and I won't try to convince you to spare my life." He paused for a moment. "I would prefer death to this prison."
(Explain yourself,) Jake said in his most emotionless, blandest thought-speech voice. He'd joined us in the shack. Rachel, too big to get through the door, stood just outside. Cassie faithfully kept watch over all of us from the sky.
"You Andalites understand that we Yeerks have a system of ranking controllers based on their usefulness, correct?"
I hadn't known that, but apparently Ax did. (I believe you rate your hosts on a scale of one to twelve, based on ease of control and several other factors. What of it?)
The man nodded. "Most humans are placed in the four to six range. Three is considered the minimum rank for an effective host. We do not come across many hosts who rank less than this, especially humans. Usually they are old, sick, or crippled, and we do not bother with them. But when we take one by accident, we do not waste them."
(Get to the point,) I said to the man in thought-speech for the first time.
"This human is a sub-one. We would not even use him for breeding purposes, in case his sickness infests other, potentially useful hosts."
Marco spoke up. He sounded a little too human for my tastes, but the Yeerk didn't appear to notice. (If this human isn't fit to be a host, then why do you infest him? What's your angle?)
"I have no angle." To my surprise, he looked deeply ashamed. It was almost funny. "The Yeerk who graded this host made several notes on it. Extreme homicidal tendencies, irrational thinking…and the fact that he enjoyed being host to an invading alien race. We could not trust him as a voluntary – he would likely snatch control away any time he recognized to opportunity to kill. He was interested to see if the Yeerk who would control him would kill more people than he would have, had he been himself."
(Again, Yeerk, if what you say is true…then why do you control him?) Ax demanded.
"It's a punishment!" he blurted out. "I fouled up an assignment. The Visser recognized this human as useful for distracting human law enforcement for a plan of his. I know not what this plan is, so you'll be wasting your time trying to get it out of me." He gulped air. "As punishment, I was ordered to this host and this mission. And I am going insane. The nest of poison that is this foul creature's mind is driving me crazy. And none of my pool-mates will help me out of this. That is why I ask – no, beg – you Andalites to do what my own people will not. If you truly are here to save human lives, you will kill both of us. Me and this horrible host. You will kill us both."