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My name is Alahar 7865. If you are a Yeerk, you know me as the Alahar 7865. I am famed not for any great feats of bravery or conquest, nor for any special cleverness. No. Quite simply, I am the Yeerk who has served directly beneath Esplin 9466, otherwise known as Visser Three, for over forty human years. And survived .
I piloted the Visser’s spacecraft during the Hork Bajir conquest. I attended the Visser during his governance on the Taxxon homeworld. I accompanied the Visser to Earth when he was selected to head the invasion of that planet. I profess no personal ambition and accept no promotions, as the Visser fears any challenge to his authority. Instead, I exist to serve the Visser’s every whim. In exchange, he treats me less like an underling and more like… not a friend, as the Visser does not have friends. He treats me like a pet. Indeed, on Earth I learned that my new host body would be the domestic animal known as the cat. The Visser had encountered a cat in the home of Iniss 226. He took a liking to the creature and suggested that I inhabit one.
Unfortunately, the feline brain is quite small. Habitation by a Yeerk thus severely shortens the cat’s lifespan. I remained in the body of the Visser’s cat for less than a year before the Visser tired of the conceit and ordered me into a new body.
We had infiltrated an Alanis Morissette concert via the women’s restroom. Female humans need to urinate more often than do male humans, so we decided that it would be more efficient to focus our energies on infesting females. In addition, the enclosed-stall layout of the female bathroom made it easier for us to install small Yeerk pools. I found myself infesting a young female human with shocking purple hair--dyed, of course. The female human worked as a graphic designer. She herself owned several cats and pestered me with questions about my time infesting one. Of course, the Visser soon requested that I dispose of the female’s cats, fearing Andalite bandits might morph one and infiltrate my human dwelling. I had to put up with a great deal of wailing from my host after I did so. But I admit I was somewhat pleased not to have to brush cat hair off of every surface. Living as a cat for nearly a year, I had already ingested my fill of the creature’s vile shedding.
Fur-bearing mammals are so untidy.
I did not mind the transition from infesting the cat to infesting this human female, who was named Rebekah Glass. In particular, her skill with Powerpoint intrigued me. You see, I have made quite a study of the various sentient species of the galaxy, in search of further possibilities for the expansion of the Yeerk empire. I also seek out potentially useful morphs for Visser Three. Naturally, Visser Three encourages this preoccupation and requests that I present what I have learned on a regular basis. The human technology of Powerpoint has turned out to be handy for my purposes.
But even Powerpoint could not save me from the terrors of today’s presentation.
“Visser One?” I demanded of Gelim 419. “Visser One has chosen to attend my report?”
Visser One and Visser Three do not get along.
My human host laughed at me. <Your boss is gonna be pissed, huh?>
I ignored her voice. My human host is irksome. Even though, in theory, I can read all of her thoughts, she possesses the unsettling capacity not only to speak ambiguously but to think ambiguously. She may make a sarcastic remark, such as, <Wow, maybe he’ll finally kill us. That’d be a relief,> and both mean it and not mean it at the same time. It is, I believe, a consequence of the human’s split-brain structure. It is quite disturbing.
Gelim stuttered at me. His human host is a small, slight male. My host, though female, appeared physically intimidating next to his.
“Visser Three will not be pleased,” I warned him. “You’d better bring extra pretzel rods.”
“Yes, Alahar,” he said. It’s well-known that Visser Three enjoys consuming pretzel rods in his human morph. The aggressive chewing they require seems to release his stress. Visser Three has a difficult job. I sympathize with his high level of anxiety, though I prefer not to bear the brunt of it. To that end, I make sure he has everything he needs to avoid becoming too distraught.
“Pretzel rods , not pretzel sticks ,” I emphasized to Gelim. Enriss 5023 made that mistake once. The Visser removed her head.
“Yes, Alahar!”
It’s possible I enjoy the treatment I receive from other Yeerks who understand I enjoy the Visser’s favor. I work very, very hard to retain that favor.
We set up the conference room as required. We made sure there was ample room for Visser One’s Hork Bajir guards, as well as Visser Three’s group of both Hork Bajir and Human Controllers. The Visser appeared in his preferred human morph, a large male. He arrived before Visser One, which I could tell annoyed him. He likes to make a grand entrance. Seated, in human morph, he does not project the intimidating aura he prefers.
Visser One arrived two minutes past the hour--a power move. She entered with a pleasant, relaxed demeanor and even leaned in to shake my hand as I stood near the podium where I’d set my computer up to give the Powerpoint. I shook back reluctantly, eyes darting to Visser Three. He wouldn’t like this. My human host commented to me, <Hey, Visser One is hot.>
<Shut up!> I told her. <Visser One is Visser Three’s great rival.>
<Yeah, I can see why.>
My host is aware, you see, that I had long had some admiration for Visser One. After all, Visser One discovered the humans. As a student of exobiology myself, I can’t help but find that impressive. But if Visser Three discovered my sympathies….
I prefer not to think about what would happen.
<He’d probably use his Anterean Bogg morph,> my host taunted. <You know. The one you found for him.>
<Shut up!>
<You’d really better hope this Powerpoint goes well, huh? You’d better hope it goes better than the last one you did for my actual job . Better hope Visser Three has lower standards than Mr. Teller.>
With great effort, I was able to silence Rebekah. She retreated to her corner of our shared mind, her speech muted to inarticulate wailing. I cleared my throat and cued up the presentation, noticing that Vissers Three and One had, in the meantime, exchanged their own icy greetings.
“Visser.”
“Visser.”
“What a pleasure to see you support important research into new host bodies,” said Visser One. “I’m sure you’re particularly interested in the subject of today’s briefing. After all, this new species is very similar to your current host body, isn’t it?”
Visser Three snapped a pretzel rod in two before answering. His attendants tensed visibly. “It’s true. The Garatrons have some similarities to Andalites. But they of course lack the morphing ability.”
“For now,” Visser One said mildly. “Of course we all look forward to your successful capture of the Escafil Device.”
Our scientists have been attempting to reengineer a captured Helmacron ship in order to search for the morphing cube. Visser Three has not been overly encouraging of this project. Naturally, he realizes that were morphing power to become widespread among Yeerks, his relative power would diminish. And after all, is not all power relative? I certainly choose to see it that way.
“It will be trivial to obtain after we conquer and infest the Andalite Bandits,” Visser Three said. His pretzel rod now lay in small pieces on the table.
“The Inspector will be pleased to hear of your surprising optimism,” Visser One said.
“Yes, yes.” Visser Three looked up, annoyed--directing his annoyance at me. “Alahar, is there some problem? Can we not proceed with the presentation?”
“Yes, Visser!” I said. I clicked frantically at the mouse, hoping to speed up the presentation’s first slide. Unfortunately, this had the effect of advancing several slides in quick succession. A vision of Visser Three’s tail blade flashed through my mind as I attempted to regain my place on Slide One. Finally I attained it.
The subject of my presentation was a new race we had begun to conquer: the Garatron. It was timely because we had all heard that the Council of Thirteen’s Inspector would be appearing on Earth in a Garatron body. For the same reason, it would require very, very careful handling.
“Th-the Garatron,” I said, stuttering only slightly out of nervousness. “A species we once classified as a Class Four--too dangerous to engage--but which we now, given the growing might of the Yeerk Empire, believe constitutes a Class Three. Not numerous enough to match the planned growth rate of the empire, but highly useful, nonetheless.” The first slide showed a Garatron. The second slide showed the creature in action, a blur of speed. I clicked, and pertinent facts slid across the screen in a dynamic way designed to hold attention.
“A Garatron can run more than two hundred miles an hour and can exert over 10,000 watts of power in a single burst of exertion. One leap may propel them over twenty feet in the air.”
The next slide showed a Garatron and an Andalite, side by side.
“Now for what the humans call the million dollar question. Are the Garatrons and the Andalites related?” I swallowed. “Though Andalites remain the most prized of hosts, we do, in fact, believe they are. The Garatrons use thought-speak, much like the Andalites. They, too, consume nourishment through their hooves. Even Garatron naming conventions resemble those of the Andalites. Andalite names, we have learned thanks to Visser Three’s deep and comprehensive knowledge of Andalite culture, commonly derive from elements in the natural landscape, such as types of trees, grasses, and flowers. Garatrons, on the other hand, have names whose meanings I am told roughly relate to emblems of physical strength or prowess: Craggy Overhang. Large Rock. Swift Wind.
“Of course Andalites--with typical arrogance--deny this relationship. They claim the Garatrons emerged separately. More Andalite lies!”
A click, and the Andalite body and the Garatron body merged on the screen. A giant question mark blinked over this image.
“So what is the truth?
“We have lately obtained access to some records found aboard a captured Skrit Na ship. According to these records, ancient Andalites once celebrated a ritual not unlike the human Olympics. We believe they called them a name that roughly means Contests of Worth.”
I had used my human host’s knowledge of art history and her animation skills--at one time she had desired to work for the emerging studio Pixar--to create the next slide: mock-up footage of what an Andalite Olympics might have looked like. With some whimsy that now seemed ill-advised, I had mimicked the style of Ancient Greek pottery art to depict Andalites running, leaping, and tail-fighting.
“Unsurprisingly, given the Andalites’ ruthless and meddling nature, bioengineering and chemical manipulation soon became the norm in their contests. The result, over a number of years--as few as several decades or as many as two centuries, from what we can deduce--was the Garatrons. A race bioengineered by the Andalites for their aggression, high energy, and swift, agile build, all necessary traits for excellence in sport. The Garatrons, however, were not able to adapt temperamentally to Andalite society. Following a series of scandals and abuses in the Andalite Contests of Worth, the Garatrons were declared a separate species--or, if you prefer, claimed independence from the Andalites. The Andalites quarantined them on a planet over one hundred light-years from the Andalite Home World.
“We believe the Andalites and the Garatrons might theoretically remain capable of producing offspring.”
Back to the slide with the mingled image of Andalite and Garatron, plus a blinking question mark. I was terrified to look at Visser Three. However, this was potentially useful information that I could not conceal from him. I would suffer more later if it were revealed that I had known this fact and not disclosed it. Information disclosure is always a delicate thing with the Visser. I rushed on to the more promising section of the presentation.
“Perhaps more importantly, the Garatrons appear to be a source of shame to the Andalites. This shame could have a psychological effect if Garatron shock troops were put to use in battle against the Andalites. Indeed, the Garatron may prove key to expanding the invasion to the Andalite home planet.”
A slide showing the Andalite homeworld, surrounded by a mockup of Yeerk craft--including a very careful rendering of the Visser’s Blade Ship, which I chose to draw subtly larger in scale than the other craft. End of presentation.
“Are… are there any questions?” I ventured, squinting as a Hork-Bajir flicked the light switch and the fluorescents overhead buzzed to life.
Visser One was nodding in contemplation. Idly, as if without thinking, she reached out and drew the dish holding the Visser’s pretzel rods closer to her. She removed one and toyed with it as she spoke. “Yes. Do you believe a Garatron could best an Andalite in single combat?”
Visser One! Asking me a direct question! Visser Three, glaring at her! And at me!
“I, uh, I…”
“Answer,” Visser Three snapped.
“Certainly not a morph-capable Andalite,” I said hastily. “The Garatron has… superior… speed… but… is more fragile in build and uh… not as metabolically flexible. Designed for quick bursts and not extended combat.” I did not add that extended combat would be unlikely. A Garatron could overwhelm an Andalite within seconds.
Visser Three appeared appeased. He narrowed his eyes at Visser One. “The Visser seems to believe that the Inspector and I will engage in combat. Unlikely.”
“Not at all,” Visser One said smoothly. “I am more inclined to speculate that, should the Inspector deign to do so, you may test your hosts’ compatibility as mates.”
<Oh, shit,> my host said.
Pandemonium erupted in the conference room. The last thing I saw before a Hork Bajir elbowed me in the face was Visser Three, human face twisted with rage, demorphing into his Andalite form.
On the whole, it went better than some of my past presentations have.