Chapter Ten

Kareis 924

<That was stupid. That was so, so, so stupid.> I repeated this to myself over and over before realizing how utterly human it sounded. Which only brought to mind the very reason I had done the stupid deed. It was the dawn of the next day, the morning after the incident at the Pool. Julie was in a sort of daze, a silent, thoughtful kind of daze, with her thoughts swirling in quiet patterns which I chose not to disturb. I did not need one of those all-possessing outbursts again, especially not now. Not for the first time, I started to question the wisdom of choosing Julie as a host.

Suddenly, she spoke, for the first time in many hours. <Why? Why did you do that?> I saw all the motives and sub-questions behind it, flashing in a ray of confusion. She replayed the scenes in her mind, of Visser Three nearly killing Jiran, and thus her father, who she still cared very much for. She remembered, in an odd, slow-motion way, of how I had given her control for that short time. But dominant in her mind was that single question, the intensity of wanting-to-know that was rooted in the curiosity that was one of the very things that marked her mind as human.

And naturally I answered. This may sound strange to you, you Yeerks who have or have had in the past, sentient hosts. We are taught from the beginning of our training that we are to take several measures to subdue them. First, we explain to them what is going on to quiet them and eliminate that sudden strength that comes from panic. We are told not to communicate with them after that. They give several reasons for this, such as in a worst-case scenario where one's host becomes in custody of the enemy, but I am beginning to believe that the real reason for this is that so we don't grow too accustomed to them. After all, with a healthy career and steady promotions, one can't expect to stay in the same host for more than a couple star-cycles. Of course, we all do, not being able to resist at least boasting a little, and after a while it's pointless to make our thoughts private. But perhaps I had over-broken that rule.

Besides, the predicament I had faced in the Pool last time would have never happened if I had not allowed myself to get so connected with my host's emotions. But I digress. Realizing there had been a strange moment of almost total silence in Julie's conscious brain as she waited for an answer, I quickly replied <Several reasons. One was that I wanted to keep Jiran alive. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, my supposedly fiercely loyal mission partner was plotting against me with Visser Three. I don't want the only accessible source of information deleted. Besides, if I let Jiran be killed, I would be entirely alone on this mission. Or most likely assigned with Demap 502.> I let my disgust seep through. It made the perfect mask. <Believe me, you don't want to know him.>

<I believe you,> Julie replied quickly, as if by a reaction. But she really didn't. I don't know how, and I was beginning to be afraid of the strange mental powers she seemed to have, whether it was intuition, psychological analysis or something else, I had no idea, since she didn't know and I wasn't able to perceive it. <But there's something else, isn't there? There has to be. You valued Jiran but not that much. You were going to let him die.> There was some contempt in her voice. <But then, all of a sudden you changed your mind. You made sure that it wouldn't be too late to save him, and gave me control, an act that almost cost you your life. I can only ask again, why?!>

I sighed inwardly. She was beginning to demand things as if it was her right to know. But which was the worse alternative, what Julie would think and try to do if she found out what had fueled my sudden change of heart, or what Julie would think and try to do if she knew how readily I would have killed the one who was her father? So, as I often did, I made a slight alteration to the main point. Julie was very thoughtful, but it was easy to get her sidetracked on a tangent. <It was imperative that you have the control for that short time. I have to go by the story that a sudden rush of emotion from you that made me loose control. It's very risky, but if I play it right I can get off through a loophole.>

<Isn't that what you always do?> Julie still sounded resentful. She was vaguely dissatisfied with my reply, but didn't pursue the subject. <So what are we going to do today? Locate the Andalite bandits? Assassinate the Visser? Or go with the old reliable scheme of enslaving humankind and strip-mining Earth? Lots of fun and profit in that one.> Her tone was bitter and cynical. I decided to take the words at face value, pretending I didn't know what she was really talking about rather than have her ranting on and on for hours later.

<Well, there is going to be a Sharing recreational activity tonight. There's a meeting of the prominent members there as well as a little operation that the Andalites will probably try to sabotaged. Since I don't have any other assignments tonight I'm just going to be waiting for them.>

Julie was extremely skeptical. She was wondering the same thing I was: If we, through all the advances of technology, both human and Yeerk, could not track down these renegades, how then were we, a Controller who looked like a fourteen-year-old girl, armed only with a compact Dracon beam, without even the support of my fellow people if I needed to use group force, supposed to accomplish this? She was contemplating asking me what the operation was, but decided that she wasn't sure she wanted to know, excellent judgement there, in favor of something else. <How exactly do you know all this? I mean, I never heard it, but I'm "the host," right? I'm the ears, the eyes? So how did you hear it?>

<We were, ah, conversing in the Yeerk pool.> I briefly sent a image of being there, deprived of the senses which were tied so extricably to her human brain, yet communicating with one another. I gave her some small bits of our conversation, censored of course. I did not need the vomiting disgust that would surely come from Julie getting some of those mental pictures in her mind.

Suddenly, Julie though of something. <Hurry up, I'm going to be late for school.>

For a moment I thought of saying something along the lines of "You're not going to school at all; as far as the world is concerned you don't even exist at all," but I let it drop. There had been too much of that kind of argument lately for my taste. So I set off through the usual morning routine that Julie had set up long before me: shower, brush teeth, wash face (which, with all the products that she had for her skin, ended up taking a good part of the morning) dry hair (which made me strongly consider having it shaved until Julie strongly protested) and try to dig through her closet to find an outfit combination that I hadn't worn this week or very recently. What made humans so obsessed with meaningless things like that, I do not know. Even Julie, haven taken a semester course in sociology, didn't know what had sparked such a fad.

There I go again.

I went downstairs to eat breakfast with my supposed family. Julie's mother was rushing around, taking sips from her cup of coffee between bites of a bagel, going through stacks of papers and pamphlets which she slid into her briefcase. She's an executive at a major company. Fortunately for Julie, we haven't gotten a hold of it, though we do have our people there and it is a national chain. Jiran was much less rushed, also drinking coffee, but also sitting at the kitchen table calmly reading the newspaper. This may sound like a bad human stereotype, but Jiran's work started much later. And he had seemed to take an interest in reading the papers, with the news and international conflicts and whatnot. And more importantly, it gave him somewhere he could focus to avoid making eye contact with anyone who might accuse him of treachery.

"Okay, bye everyone!" Julie's mother called out as she walked, heels clunking on the vinyl floor as she held her briefcase in hand with a purse over her shoulder.

"Bye, honey," Jiran replied almost absently.

"Bye, Mom!" I called out with a little more enthusiasm to make up for it. She gave a little wave and a sweet smile of ignorance at the people she assumed were her husband and daughter and left into the house to drive away in one of the cars I could not believe that humans, with all their imagination, still relied on for transportation.

I watched her car drive off and then abruptly turned to Jiran. "Well, now that she's gone, there's a little something we need to discuss." Jiran just took a sip of his coffee and flipped a page of the paper. I tried to stay calm. "Father, I need to talk about something," I could feel my voice shaking with anger, breaking throughout the thick sarcasm. "It's about something that happened last night."

He looked up at me for the first time. "I --" he stammered. It was understandable. He had committed an act of betrayal, which was all in the better interests of his life and career, of course, since Visser Three had "asked" him to. But standing here in this house, I was the superior. I was the one who could eliminate him. In addition, there was the awkward position set up by our human hosts. There was somewhere, in the human subconscious which I employed even when I ignored Julie, that declared this man to be my father, just as Jiran had one which said I was his daughter.

"Jiran," I said sharply, arms crossed and ignoring Julie's fears. "I only want to know one thing. What are the circumstances of your near-death last night? From what I was able to catch, you and Visser Three had something against me. And for that matter, how many other people are involved in this?"

He looked nervous and directed his gaze off to the side for a moment. In a rather loud voice, he replied, "What are you talking about? What near death? The great Visser never would have killed me, and if he did, I would have deserved it." I listened, incredulous, for some sarcasm in his voice. There was none. "And why would anyone be plotting against you? You're close to being Visser Nine. You're a great leader. Of course you'll never be as great as Visser Three, but . . ." he saw me staring at him with what was probably a mix of fury, fear, and shock. He faltered only briefly, then continued. "still, what are you talking about?"

I was about to burst out something, when Jiran leapt over and clamped a hand over my mouth. You can imagine how indignant I was at this gesture. To go over to a superior and prevent them from speaking . . . in most settings, it was suicide. But this was not most settings. He simply nervously mouthed the words which I could make out "I apologize" and say in that same loud, conspicuous voice, "Come on. You're going to be late for school." I looked at the clock. There was roughly forty-five minutes until we would be in the "going to be late" range. He looked at me with an expression and gestured that signified "Just go along with it" and we left through the back door out on the small back deck.

Out there in the crisp morning air, Jiran heaved a sigh of relief. "All right," he said. "We can talk out here. Listening devices are a pretty new field in technology, so as long as we're outside or somewhere they can't pick us up."

"Listening devices?" Things were sounding worse and worse.

<Do I smell a conspiracy?> Julie suddenly popped up. <You know, Kareis, it might not be long before you join the ranks of Julius Caesar and -- most likely -- John F. Kennedy. And I'm not sure about these, but I have a feeling of those lines about Hitler and Stalin, too.> This time, while I didn't care for some of her implications, and I didn't feel like responding, I didn't ignore her.  

"When did anyone have the opportunity to install bugs?"

"Remember the electrician who put in the holophone? He did a little extra stuff while he was at it. Visser Three wanted, and still wants to keep a close eye on you. Or ear, whichever the case may be."

"That's kind of strange though. Why would he want bugs when he's got a little troupe of stooges, one of whom is posted in the house?"

Jiran looked at me angrily for a moment, but, I suppose realizing that my comment was justified, looked down once again. "I wasn't given this sub-assignment until a little later, until after you had had this host for a little while. I guess he supposed you had this whole secret militia, and after hearing some phone conversations and other things he would have solid evidence to convict you to the Council of Thirteen. After a while, though, he grew impatient. He is still certain you have some kind of illegal operation going on, so I was . . . appointed to uncover any of your secrets. I was entirely unable to convince him that you don't have any master schemes," he looked up for a moment and smiled tersely, "except getting promoted, of course. He was ready to kill me for my failure, you stopped him and somehow managed to get away with it. And here we are right now." He sighed.

"Jiran, what you're saying is that you were, for the lack of a better word, hired, to keep me in line and find out if there was any act of rebellion that I was committing. You were practically killed for not producing evidence to that effect, and I clearly remember the Visser saying something about 'Why doesn't she trust you? Did you give her any reasons for that?' It would almost suggest you were trying to worm some crucial information out of me. And, for that matter, why should I believe a word you're saying now, if it's your job to pretend you're such a loyal comrade?"

"If that was true then why would I be telling all this to you? Or if I made up a story similar to this, why would I tell you about the listening devices?"

"To make it more believable," I answered flatly. "You reasoned that since I was in intelligence I would count on some kind of spying device. I wouldn't be surprised if there were none at all."

<Stop it,> Julie said, more annoyed than anything else. <You're too skeptical.>

"Kareis," Jiran said, using words that were strange to him because they were entirely human in origin. No Yeerk would say such a thing: "I'm sorry. I had no other choice. Don't worry though. I didn't even give hints of any promotion plans you may have. If, by chance, you do have some master scheme you're actually planning to go through with, it's safe."

<Which would you rather have, my skepticism or your death?>

That was a little harsh, and she responded with a burst of anger, but she pushed it down as she did many of her strong emotions. <But you put him in a no-win situation. He's your partner, Kareis. He's our only ally.>

<Partner or no, he cannot be trusted. And I have no allies. I am, as the expression goes, a lone wolf.> I looked at Jiran with a forgiving expression. "That's fine, Jiran. I realize how things are. I was . . ." it was surprising how much emotion I could put into something that I had total apathy for. Perhaps it came from Julie; she was a good storyteller and a decent actor. " . . . I was in a similar situation, long ago on the Hork-Bajir world. It wasn't Visser Three, exactly, but it was another superior. I had to put on a show of betraying a comrade. I understand." I said again. "And just as long as you'll keep me informed, I'll be happy to play along."

He sighed again with relief and smiled. "All right then. Just watch what you say inside the house. Or in any other structure, for that matter."

<Wait a minute,> Julie thought. <Since Jiran knows all about the listening devices, why can't you just disable them? Just snip a few wires and . . .>

<No,> I cut her off impatiently. <It wouldn't work. They have operators monitoring these kind of devices twenty-four hours a day. Silence for three days straight would slightly draw their suspicions. But come on, are you really naive enough to think that Jiran means what he says? Or that I really trust him enough to ask that the bugs be removed?>

<But I thought . . .> she was silent for a moment, angry at herself. <Of course,> she said to herself, almost bitterly. <It was another scheme, another well-played lie. I couldn't even tell.> Jiran opened the door and we stepped back inside again, with him closing it behind me. Wondering if maybe the people listening to us could hear sounds such as the doors opening and closing and the steps of our feet I said, "Sorry, Jiran. I have to get something for school. I still have a little to do on it, but I probably won't take to long."

He grinned in spite of himself, and replied, "Fine. But it's imperative that you get done in thirty minutes. My host's employers don't take tardiness lightly." I found myself grinning too, at the irony of it, a game being played by someone who had revealed a hidden delver of secrets to extract secrets of his own, and someone who pretended to believe them while carrying out a plot of their own, as I went up the stairs.

<What are you doing now?> Julie asked. <Okay, okay, the school thing was a little funny -- in a mean  sort of way. But how are you going to spend your time supposedly working on a school thing? Don't tell me you're going to spend half an hour sitting here reading The Iliad.> Julie is studying works of an ancient nation in her English class at school (which seems kind of strange, when you think about it), and has to do a report on a work called The Iliad. She is highly irritated with it because it is translated from Greek, written in an awkward style that is sometimes hard to really understand. Her only consolation is that she doesn't really have to do anything: in the end it's up to me, so I have to be the one to read the ponderous work and try to analyze its hidden meanings and the peculiarities of the culture the author lived in.

<No, not at this particular time.> I went over to  her conputer and turned it on. It took practically forever for it to charge up and all the programs to load -- by the time it was ready to go I could have generated some Z-space physics equations and applied them into a ship's navigational program on any decent machine. If humans ever make it as an independant species, all I can say is that they'd better have another technological revolution or they're going to end up another race's labor slaves.

That too, is an old argument I and Julie have had countless times. This time I only thought it silently, to myself as I logged onto the internet. Yes, the regular, plain old human internet. See, I had recently suscribed to a program called Web Access America. We took over it after its CEO mysteriously dissapeared and the company almost crumbled. We suspect that he was also one of us -- I'm not sure of this, but records indicate that it was Esplin 9466 Lesser's last position. No one knows where he is now, but to tell the truth I'd rather not know. Anyone with the same genes as Visser Three isn't someone you want to get too close too, and some people who knew him say that he was even more sadistic than his primary twin.

Once on WAA, just by typing in the right "keyword" and having a special chip that I attached to the computer's motherboard give the correct code sequences, I could enter our own private network. The network is free for all authorized personnel to use. Which may sound like a contracition, but that just means that there arn't any high-security user moniterings like the one I saw in the computer at the Pool. Here there was just the minor tracker that could identify my serial number, which only certain people even know. Which I was counting on, because I needed to send some messeges to a couple associates.

<Oh cool,> Julie said dryly. <It's the Yeerk Galactic Network -- in the comfort and privacy of your own host's home!> She was imitating the infomercials for various software and programs on TV. I've found that the way most humans deal with something they find very strange or irritating is to apply some form of humor to this. Being in a cynical mood, Julie had chosen to use sarcasam as of late. <What new wonderful advancement will they come out with next? Minature portable Kandrona generators that you can keep in the basement? Mind alteration that will make any person a willing host? Why not pick up your own version of Andalite morphing technology while you're at it?>

<Actually, we've tried all those things,> I replied cooly. I can't say it wasn't satisfying to feel her shudder. I let her think over all the things my people would do with that kind of technology, then added, <don't worry, we've never been able to accomplish any of those things.> The releif that came made me feel both glad that I hadn't divulged any of the details of those experiments, and also that it was a shame to reassure her so soon when there were so many gory details to disgust her with. Julie's so easily disgusted, it's almost fun, in a sick sort of way.

My first messege was to Protanus 426. He was my closest partner in my plan. In fact, he was the only one who knew the exact details and purpose: to form an alliance with the Andalites and end the war. There were others, namely Tiber 205, Latkan 835, and Gepad 783. They were also in on my plan, but mostly all they knew was that I had a sceme that involved toppling Visser Three out of his position of power and rising to it. This had been part of the original plan, but seeing as I was already in some slight trouble (slight as in Visser Three having a strong desire to kill me) so Protanus and I decided that the best way would be sabatoge which would be blamed on the Andalite bandits. Which would, of course, get the Visser in trouble, going along nicely with the story I told the others about usurping the Visser. The only way we could see to gain contact with the Andalites in a way that would not result in our heads being removed after the first word was in a rather forced kind of way; we would have to "capture" them, and offer our proposition at Dracon point.

Reading the messeges as I wrote them, Julie peiced together those letters, along with the conversations I had had with my associates while still in host, though mostly it was safer to converse in the Pool where no one but the single other mind could hear me. <Maybe it's right that the Andalites will definetly be there -- but only if they know about it. They may be good spies, but they can't hear about everything. How can you be so sure they even know about it?>

<Hmm . . . well, maybe the posters all around the school and town that said something to the effect of "Come to the special induction ceremony of The Sharing," held in an enclosed auditorium, "special prizes offered," might have something to do with it. Plus I made sure to deliberatly broadcast a receivable messege to another station here of our plans to hold a massive infestation of the human youths. The Andalites won't be able to pass it up.>

Julie was momentarily impressed, then thought of something else. <Wait a minute, you sent out transmissions that you were absolutely sure they could receive? Didn't you think that probaby the only receivers they've got here are modified human receivers? You told me something to that effect a while back. So with all the people like the CIA listening for foreign spies, or SETI looking for extraterrestrial life --> she paused to contemplate the irony of that situation, then continued, <but how can you know some human guy with a ham radio couldn't pick it up? People do not take odd-wavelength messeges about "mass infestation" of young people lightly.>

<Don't be stupid. Humans technology wouldn't have a chance of even detecting, much less deciphering any messege we send. And the Andalites are even more sophistocated in that respect than we are. They probably use human transmitters as the scrap material, but they have little . . . add-ons, much like the chip I installed in your primitive computer's motherboard, which could get sound readings from infared light, say nothing of our transmission wavelengths. Of course, we change the transmission periodically so that spies can't hear everything we're sending out, but we still have access to an old one that they tried to trick us with -- twice. I broadcasted it plainly, on that old frequency; they have to hear it.>

<All right, fine.> Sometimes I would get impulses from Julie to do certain things with her face and body in certain moods, such as a clenched fist when she was angry, or as in this case, raising a single eyebrow when she was feeling skeptical. The strange thing was, she wasn't even trying to do these things, they were just natural impulses from her brain that I could override but not entirely shut off. So, not feeling like changing anything, I let the eyebrow raise itself. She didn't comment any further, and she didn't clarify her thoughts to herself, so I didn't know why. Something about how it all seemed to easy, to clear-cut. She didn't like anything like that -- it made her nervous, it seemed as if she was tempting Fate by playing along.

I was done and still had some time to kill, so I turned on the TV. Some of the programs on it are actually quite interesting, and much of the science fiction is wonderful if viewed as a satire or a farce. At the moment, the only thing on that either Julie or I cared for was Xena: Warrior Princess. She had been intrigued by it because it had seemed interesting, but when she had watched it she dismissed it as cheesy and shallow. Nevertheless, it had somehow become part of her daily television routine, and I still watched it, to keep up appearances and, I'll admit, for my own amusement.

Xena is roughly based on the ancient mythology of the Greeks, the same culture and stories the aforementioned Iliad draws its roots from. Today's episode concerned the three Fates and their role in a mortal's life, particularly Xena's. This made me think of Fate in general, and what Julie had thought about tempting it by falling into such a well-laid plan.

If you had asked me in my early years, I would have told you I didn't belive in any sort of fate or guiding power or destiny. There just was -- there was the universe, and all the creatures in it, including us, who had risen to sentiency in the pool, and so must take the resentful universe for our own and bend it to our will. But later, my experiences led me to think otherwise. Not exactly about our role in the universe -- that came later. But I learned that sometimes Fate, for reasons we cannot fathom, contructs for us certain roads. They may seem too smooth and clear-cut to be anything but a mirage, but if you are to get anywhere in the world, you must take it. And so, seeing my path before me, I set down it, guessing, but never really knowing, that it would lead to death.

In the typical human fashion, my eyes had involuntarily drifted away from the TV screen and was focused on a nearby wall. Julie hadn't protested; she, too, was deep in thought. Besides, they show she same episode in the morning and in the evening, and she knew that she could catch it during my free time tonight.

Chapter Nine | Chapter Eleven
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