I remember from my former human host, an adult instead of a premature child like the one I inhabited now. I was Visser Twelve then, and I was standing before Visser Three. We were almost equals then, at least to my perception, and certainly on the same plane. But he was still my superior, in charge of the entire Earth project of which my job was only a part.
<Greetings, Visser Twelve,> he welcomed me with a curt, impersonal air. <May the Kandrona shine and strenghthen you.>
"And you, Visser Three," I replied, savoring how it felt to hear Visser Three himself giving me the formal greeting, instead of the other way around. "May I ask the purpose of you calling me here?" I asked. I was busy lately, and I didn't have time for him to address me.
His main eyes narrowed a little, probably because it had been a long, long time since anyone had dared to talk to him that way. Even the other Vissers always kept their distance, stayed respectful in fear of their plans being ruined otherwise. But now that I commanded that position, he would never rule over me in fear again. <You have a new mission now. You are to work on special assignment: communications. There have been threats of treachery; mutiny, allegiances to . . . other Vissers,> Visser One had her eye on Earth too, and many of us had tired of Visser Three's harsh rule and secretly helped her, <among the lower ranks, and this is to alleviate the problem as well as any potential ones in the future. For this reason, you must work alone.>
It angered me that Visser Three even now would order me around. "What are the origins of these orders?" I asked. Realizing that I had sounded insolent, I rephrased, "Were they issued by the Council of Thirteen or . . . some other source?"
Visser Three's thought-voice grew quiet with a calm, potentially deadly anger. <Actually, they came from me. I am in charge of the Earth project, and I am your superior Visser.>
Perhaps I should have said "Yes, Visser Three," and quickly walked away, but he would no longer be in charge of me as he had been for so long. I began cautiously, knowing that even though I was safe from him, I needed to choose my words carefully. "With all due respect, I wish to question your order."
This made him snap to attention. His roving stalk eyes were fixed on me in an instant, and even his tail which he dared not use against me was arched. <What?>
"You gave me an order to continue my new mission alone. However, you do not have authority to tell me this. As a Visser I am entitled to my choice of at the very least a minimal Taxxon operating team, my Hork-Bajir fighting troup and in this case some human-Controller experts in this field." These were the excuses, the official grounds for my argument. But the real reason, when I got down to it, was one person. One single human-Controller. Not an expert in any field except climbing the ranks along with me, he was Foran one-three-seven. My poolmate, my companion since our basic training. And something stronger than that, something I could not name. I did not know how to describe it, because it was not anything attributed to Yeerks, only to creatures that had to find a mate to reproduce and carry on the generations. But my human host's mind, which was usually morose and silent, spoke suddenly in dazzled realization. <You love him!>
I denied it to her and to myself, but inside I knew that if it was not the thing that humans call love, it was something close related . . . Suddenly my host's mind, the girl called Julie, surfaced inside her conciousness, and the overwhelming memory was cut short. However there were still the leftovers that lingered with that memory appeared and made themselves real once again.
We were both Hork-Bajir, engaged in furious battle. Foran, I, and our battle companions. The aliens that we battled, called the Gira, were one of the only races besides the Andalites to fight the Yeerks at the time. And fight they did. They had boarded our ship, and wore special "encounter suits" to survive the oxygen and carbon that was harsh to them. Their suits had been modified with blade-like appendages all over, in imitation of our own Hork-Bajir blades. The Gira, although ingenious, had little imagination, and could hardly conceive of anything they had not seen before.
So we fought both with our Dracons against their Blasters, and by blade-to-blade combat. I was winning against three of them that had ganged up on me. Wondering where Foran was, I used one hand to shoot with my Dracon beam while the other arm swept down at a Gir next to me, at the central area of the suit which held the cyberbionic computer which tied the shell to its user. Suddenly, I felt something on my back. I could only turn halfway around, to see the shaded peripheal figure of a huge warrior Gir. I felt death take hold as a half-seen blade plummeted to my unprotected face.
Out of nowhere, something rose up and with a tremendous leap like a monster or a demon of legend attacked the Gir, knocking it to the ground and striking in blows of anger. It attacked with arm and feet and even head, anything that it could possibly use as a weapon, driven by a terrble fury that I had never fathomed. It was a Hork-Bajir: Foran. I was so numb with shock and releif I almost got killed again by a Blaster as I watched. The Gir's suit shorted out and was reduced to a crumpled shell as the creature inside died.
<Watch out, Kareis,> he said casually in the Hork-Bajir communication, standing up and heaving deep breaths. <You've got to be more careful.>
He did that for me! I exhaulted. But why . . .
The memories were faster now, more frenzied and exploding with emotion.
"Is it true, Kareis? Is it true what I've heard, about what you're doing . . ?"
<Kareis nine-two-four, you are now Visser Eleven. Foran five-three-seven, you are sub-Visser Ten.>
No longer, Visser Three. Never again will I serve you.
We must rise now! They cannot keep us down!
"Foran! We can't do it!"
"No, you were right before. We have to, or die trying."
"Very well . . . Let's go, then."
Last of all was something a little more recent, one of the things I had tried my best and hardest to forget. It was the stark imprint of Visser Three, standing in front of Foran. Inside I was screaming, but he was brave in his last breath as Visser Three brought down the glaive of his tail blade and snapped the human vertebrae in two.
NO!
We were both jolted back into reality as the car stopped at a red light. Kareis gasped. "Are you all right?" our driver looked back at us with concern that could be nothing but genuine. There was no reason to pretend in here. That seemed kind of strange, knowing that she was a Yeerk, but then again it also seemed strange that Yeerks would have things like friendship and patriotisim and even love. Yes, although I could not exactly call myself experienced in the matter, it was obvious that what Kareis and Foran had felt toward each other was indeed love, if a little lacking in chemistry.
So now I understood: Foran was the person Kareis had loved and lost. She knew all too well what it was loose someone that she knew and loved. And if I was not mistaken, it made her feel horrible to be enslaving my mom. But maybe in the end would be more important were the details that had surrounded the memory. Kareis hated Visser Three, that was easy to see. And Kareis and Foran had been in some kind of plot going on, something that they weren't supposed to be doing. There was some vague feeling that it had to do with Yeerk politics and power, and the Andalites, something that went hand-in-hand with Kareis's plan to make allies with them and then betray them. And it was most certainly this that got Foran killed. But what was it? And why did it seem to conflict with what Kareis wanted to execute now?
The car drove down a long avenue and came to a slow stop. Kareis started to get out, and our driver waved goodbye to me. "4:00 later today, right?"
Kareis shook her head. "No, that's okay. I've got my own way around. But you'll have to take me back to my house in the morning tomorrow. Sorry, but my host's mother thinks you're my friend's mom."
"That's perfectly fine. I have errands to run anyway, might as well." It probably didn't hurt her too terribly to get in the good favor of the future Visser Nine, either. "Good luck Kareis," she said. Ah, the conference. Adding in a little softer voice, "We're all depending on you."
With a small aknowleging nod, Kareis slung her duffle over her shoulder and walked with artificial confidance into the building, the central office for The Sharing. We were going in. We were going to confront the Yeerks.