End of the war

It had been a long time since Tom had been that horrible to me. But I didn't need his comments to feel bad. A few days earlier, Visser-3 had joyfully announced to us that there was no longer any need for the invasion to be secret. That from now on, there were enough of us and we were well infiltrated among the ruling human elites to be able to act openly.

Following this speech, I was assigned to monitor the entrances of the station where the other Yeerks forced entire families into trains that would take them to a giant infestation platform that had been created in the heart of the city. People had been woken up in the dead of night and dragged forcefully to the cars. My role was as simple as it was boring. Stay positioned at the entrance and be ready to shoot if this Andalite commando, which had been sabotaging our operations for over two years, tried to attack us.

Overnight, my life had returned to what it was before Tom became my property. My days were henceforth punctuated by the cries and sobs of humans who did not understand what was happening to them, except that if they boarded those trains, they would probably never return home. Needless to say, Tom was not thrilled to see that I was cooperating. To his utmost horror, I was forced to permanently deprive him of all control over his body, and he had to passively watch the events from the depths of his mind.

In any case, we were now permanently surrounded by other Yeerks, so even if he had been more cooperative, I wouldn't have been able to give him control or leave his body as we had gotten used to doing. Since it was no longer necessary to maintain our cover, I could no longer go back to sleep at his place. I now had to devote all my time to serving the empire. The next (and last) time I would dream of Tom's parents or the Grouchy Smurf, it would be on that train platform when their turn comes to be harvested. And we had no way to warn them discreetly so they could escape. Anyway, where would they run to? Soon, the entire planet will be under our control, and every human will have a Yeerk in their head.

But I was pulled out of my thoughts when a loud noise sounded behind me. I turned around and saw that a group of humans had managed to topple a statue, which decorated the entrance of the station, onto their escort. Already, everyone was taking advantage of the chaos to scatter in all directions. But it was a lost cause. We were prepared for this kind of incident, and they were all quickly subdued. All except for one woman who, despite the threat of dracon rays, rushed at the guards. The guard was surprised, but his training quickly took over and he fired. She was immediately vaporized, but she had managed to distract them long enough for what I assumed was her daughter to break through the encirclement.

The little girl, who must have been approximately 8 years old, was running and crying in the hallway located under my line of fire, while human-controllers were chasing her. Under Tom's helpless cries of horror, I shouldered my dracon beam and aimed. The other Yeerks didn't know it, but I was an excellent marksman. If I miserably failed all my shooting tests at the time ofMy exams were only because at the time, I was too inexperienced to know how to properly control my former host. During training on holographic targets, I had excellent results, but for more realism during the exam, the targets were hosts too old or damaged to serve, which were allowed to escape. I couldn't stop my hand from trembling.

Anyway, from where I was, that little girl was far too easy a target to miss even by a poor shooter. After a few seconds of hesitation, I fired and heard a cry of pain followed by a spray of blood that splattered the entire corridor. I had hit the leg of one of the controllers who was chasing her. It immediately disintegrated. He was now agonizing on the tiles and would have died if the others hadn't abandoned the chase to help him. I saw her one last time as she disappeared behind a row of bushes surrounding the station. She was definitely out of reach.

The supervisor in charge of overseeing the operation then stormed out of his office furiously, shouting.

Who is the traitor responsible for this shot? Find them and neutralize them.

I immediately dropped my weapon and assumed a contrite pose.

Under-screw, it's Thévenin 7-8-9, the person in charge. Said one of the controllers busy using a Yeerk technology device to regenerate his comrade's leg.

Her face lit up with understanding.

Who is the congenital idiot who assigned the only Yeerk capable of missing an elephant in a hallway to this position?

It's Visser-3 sir.

He turned pale and went back to his office after ordering his teams to return to their posts and never speak of this incident again. None of them bothered to even blame me for my mistake. The other Yeerks had long considered me a lost cause not worth the time to reprimand. Moreover, I had the favor of the Visser.

Don't think that's enough for me to forgive you, you filthy slug.

He hadn't called me a slug for months. Yes, everything had gone back to the way it was before. And I was going to have to learn to be satisfied with it.

oOoOoOoOo

2 hours after the little girl's escape, I was contemplating the immense crater that had replaced the city. Above, the Yeerk mothership was slowly landing. Even after so much time, I never tired of the senses humans possessed. With their incredibly developed sight, even such a terrible landscape held a certain beauty. But I was distracted from my contemplation by a question from Tom.

Do you think she had time to escape?

I didn't understand why he was so fixated on this girl when hundreds of thousands of people had probably perished as a result of the bombing. But it was the first time in 3 days that he addressed me with something other than insults, so I replied to him.

Probably not. We fled by ship and barely had time to get away from the impact zone before the mothership started firing, so on foot she didn't stand a chance. Even with an hour's head start on us.

(Maybe someone gave him a ride?)

Most of the cars ended up stuck in traffic and couldn't get out of the city in time. And anyway, humans are too selfish to help those around them.

A heavy silence followed.

To cheer him up, I added:

Don't you think it's magnificent? From now on, that's where we're going to live.

(That you are going to live, you mean. And you honestly think I give a damn about the scenery?)

Can I ask you a question?

(What do you want to know what color I want the bars of my next cage?)

(No, but if you have a preference, don't hesitate) I replied with the utmost seriousness, not realizing he was being sarcastic. After a pause that I took as agreement, I continued: Why aren't you more sad for your family? Normally, they were also in the city when the Andalites attacked our base.

(Of course I'm sad. Mind your own business.)

You are lying. You are not sad at all. On the contrary, you are terrified that I might discover something. I asserted in a calm voice. How frustrating it was not to search his mind at that moment. Maybe I should do it. After all, now that he refused any cooperation with me, I had no reason to keep my promise not to invade his privacy. But instead, I asked him:

Tom, I promised not to search your mind without your consent and I will keep my promise. I just want to know. Are they still alive?

(Yes, normally, they are fine.)