AN: Thanks to the great SoloMoon for allowing the borrowing of the name, Essa 412, for this lovely little canon yeerk.
The dark warmth swirls in currents over the yeerk's flesh as they swim towards the surface. The pitch-black world comes alive with a single sonar burst, echoing back the shapes of the other yeerks that swim around them and the contours of the taxxon's ear canal that rests just under the surface of the Pool. With one last kick of their tail, Essa 412 flows forward, reaching through the gap between themselves and the inside of their host.
The warm darkness peels back as the yeerk's palps seep into the vast neurological network beneath them. The pulse-beats of six hearts under the soft taxxon flesh reverberate through them. The earthen smell of the Madra Pool flows into Teelnan's open maw, past the circular gate of teeth quivering against the want of other scents. The splish-splash of small prey beckons, easy to slurp up with only the dip of their large head into the Pool.
The splish-splash of their fellow yeerks. Not food. Never food.
They pull back from the edge of the pier and the call to their hunger. The hork-bajir guards stationed to each side are as tense as always when a taxxon host comes to reunite with their yeerk. There's always a few taxxons scattered over the time taken for one orbit of this planet who give in to the ceaseless hunger. Those who plunge their forever gaping mouths into the Pool, slurping up as many yeerks as possible before a sharp arm blade ends them.
Teelnan is not one of those ravenous fools. They learned long before the yeerks came to the homeworld how to manage their hunger around defenseless young worms, those taxxons too young for their legs to have even pierced the developing buds along their bodies.
Essa 412 sinks into their contempt for the guards who doubt their control and for the wary yeerks who swim just out of reach of the shadow of Teelnan's body.
They shiver in amusement. Essa 412's host may not be a visser, but the taxxon is feared if only for this moment. One day, Essa 412 will inspire this fear among their brethren. Not because of a ceaseless hunger, of course, but with the wreckage they leave behind slicing through the Andalite forces as sharply as any of those prey animal's tail blades.
"Little Worm is hungry." Teelnan's thoughts curl through Essa 412 with old amusement. Many small yeerks have slid into their mind, absorbed their experience in spaceflight and battle before moving on to younger, more suitable hosts for their roles in this war. Very few have ever had the hunger of little worms, always searching for blood and meat to grow stronger.
"No, I just fed." Essa 412 scurries over the metal of the pier and past the taxxon hosts who wait for their turn at reinfestation. The warmth of the Kandrona still settles into their yeerk body, filling in every cell too fully for the heat to fade for a few hours yet. They tell the truth, technically, even if the desire for battle burns as hot as any star.
"Little Worm wants to fight tonight." Teelnan points out.
They won't, though, no matter the want. A yeerk who hasn't even worn their host for a quarter of this planet's annual cycle wouldn't be trusted anywhere near the frontlines of such an important battle. Despite Teelnan's many, many memories of the flashes of dracon fire cutting through the blackness of space, Essa 412 simply lacks the necessary experience to make use of such a veteran host. Never mind that they have proven themselves the most efficient pilot of all their poolmates and of any of the other yeerk broods born within this planet's past orbital cycle. If the Andalites coming tonight had only waited until a full orbit had passed, then maybe Temrash 114 would have allowed Essa 412 the honor of slaughtering their enemies.
But Temrash had insisted on guard duty of the ground forces for Essa 412 and their other talented siblings who have chosen to specialize in Bug Fighter technology. Supposedly those who are barely more than spawn can't be trusted to fight a dome ship in this crucial battle.
Essa 412 hasn't shared a feeding cycle with Temrash since that particular decision was made. It would make little sense to do so. What right does an inexperienced spawn have to intrude on the time of such an esteemed lieutenant? It's much better for Essa 412 to spend their feedings around those of their rank. The sharp ends of their legs stab into the ground with the bluntness of their thoughts as they quickly traverse the cavern around them.
Teenan's amusement ripples through the yeerk, but the host's feelings are ignored due to their unimportance. Even the opinions of voluntary hosts matter little, so Essa 412 refuses to make even a single remark back to whatever, wordless sympathetic sentiment that the host sends their way.
A shadow, jagged and long, looms to their side. Essa 412 swings to the side away from whichever careless hork-bajir decided to walk so closely. The agitated hiss that strikes from Teelnan's mouth freezes the hork-bajir in their tracks.
Essa 412 rears up, bringing their height to an equal level as the other controller who stares back with wide eyes and flared nostrils, the only signals of emotion in an otherwise stiff face.
"Sibling," growls out the hork-bajir, their gaze flickering to the telltale red streaks along Teelnan's body. They're not yet as vibrant as they'll be in the last cycle of Teelnan's lifespan, but they're prominent enough for most yeerks familiar with Essa 412 to recognize the pattern on sight.
"You didn't wait." The unfamiliarity of the hork-bajir's features fade into recognizability. The particular space between the wrist and arm blades, the wrinkled patterns stretched across her face. Tesla 247 watches Essa 412 in startled confusion. Because Tesla has never left the Pool's banks without Essa 412 following close behind.
Confusion seeps from Teelnan into Essa 412, swirling between them as they lower themselves from such an aggressive arch. The yeerk has been stewing in anger for several planetary rotations, but even so, their position by their sister's side has never been forgotten despite this. How could it be when that has been their place ever since they separated from the decaying bodies of their parents.
"Sister." Essa 412 softly whistles. The title slips out naturally. Even if it has only been recently since Tesla 247 has taken her host gender as her own as is the tradition of most yeerks. Even if only as recently as the last sunrise, it had taken effort not to slip back into greeting her as 'sibling.'
Tesla 247 is sister just as the taxxon's hunger is constant. Indisputable facts as hard as the rock weighing down on the roof of the cavern above them. As inarguable as the way that the lack of Tesla's presence hadn't even crossed Essa 412's mind as they raced away from the Pool's edge.
Nothing is spoken. The silence between them's gaping wider than the space between the human's homeworld and their single moon. The oddity of the previous moment presses down on Essa 412's thoughts all along their quick journey to the meeting area, a flat stretch of ground next to the two-story offices that shadow Essa 412's fellow spawns, the rest of the redundant ground defense in the coming Andalite invasion.
The sight of the other Essa, Essa 557, in their brood who's also managed to attain a battle-oriented host fails to bring the annoyance that always arises when watching him flick his sharp wrist blades together in boredom.
The other Essa always brags about his stronger host body, so Essa 412's always annoyed. Just like Essa 412 always follows Tesla from the Pool.
The agitated hiss that escapes Teelnan's mouth draws the attention of several of the taxxons, who promptly go back to ignoring Essa 412 and Tesla's approach once they spot the distinguishing features along Teelnan's flanks.
Essa 557's attention stays on them, his jagged hork-bajir grin matching the quick screech of his wrist blades sliding together before he pointedly looks to the taxxon closest to him. Several minutes ago, that blatant disrespect directed at them would have meant something more than…relief at the familiarity of the gesture.
Essa 412's expectations for their annoying brother have not changed. Which should not be an unexpected comfort.
A flash of orange, the vibrancy of a split taxxon's guts, snags Essa 412's attention. Teelnan's renewed hunger salivates inside of their maw before they process that the orange is attached to the intact human head of the controller who approaches their group.
The human appears soft. Especially with their thinness, the flesh on their arms would slide down a taxxon's throat nicely. The orange curls of hair may even taste good as well if their organ-like color is any indication.
The human controller stops far enough away from their group that even the most ambitious lunge from a taxxon wouldn't reach them; although, any grown hork-bajir could traverse that distance easily.
The human's lips tilt up in that species' expression of happiness. "Is this ground unit 3?" the controller asks, a tablet grasped loosely in his hands.
"Yes." Essa 557 barks out before anyone else can say anything. Essa 412 highly doubts that the human controller ranks high enough for that kind of enthusiastic response. But if their brother wishes to make a fool of himself, so be it.
"Okay dokey, there's been a bit of reassigning going on. So, some of you are coming with me." The human glances at the tablet before continuing, his voice trembles once in his next words. "Apparently, our security has been compromised, so we're deploying Bug Fighters to their outer orbits right now. Since, you know, we'll all probably die if we wait until tonight." At the crack in the human controller's voice, most of the taxxon controllers his in fearful agitation. Except for Essa 412 as Teenan's body poises in stillness.
"The Andalites have discovered the location of the Pool, so some of the guys that were supposed to be shooting down their fighters tonight are instead guarding the convoy that's relocating the Kandrona out of the city. Since, you know, we'd all starve without the thing if the Andalites blew it up." The human controller gestures to the unit before him, "Most of you are now assigned to ground transportation duty for the evacuation of the Pool itself except," the controller raises one finger in the air and then runs it over the surface of the tablet, "for Essa 557, Tesla 209, Tesla 247, and Essa 412. You guys will be replacing the soldier pairs that they had to pull off the frontlines."
The widening tilt of the human's lips grows with the burn of anticipation that roils through Essa 412. This is it. The night that they will show all of their fellow yeerks their great skill in battle. It is doubtful that they will ever again be relegated to guard duty or any other useless task after this. Perhaps if they kill enough Andalites tonight, even the great Visser Three will be impressed.