The dilemma

Cannon recall:

For others, this chapter takes place right after volume 16. I'm not summarizing this volume this time because it would spoil too much for those who haven't read the books.

oOoOoOoOo

Hey, dwarf. Want to shoot some hoops? Tom said joyfully, throwing a basketball towards the old swing where Jack had gone to sit after dinner.

Jack caught it just in time before throwing it back to Tom.

Thank you Tom, but I don't feel like it.

Then he began to look at the sky again, a blank expression on his face.

Come on, a little game. To make me happy.

Is it really you, Tom? he asked, making sure no one was listening to us.

To this question, Tom's cerebrospinal fluid filled with hormone with such a foul smell that it gave me a slight nausea. Not as nauseating, however, as the hormone spike that woke me up every morning. Being the Yeerk of a human teenager was really a pain. All his emotions on edge and his (...) desires. I really hoped it was a consequence of being deprived of social interaction for over a year and that, with time, he would soon regain control of his emotions. But I doubted it. According to the documentaries called "reality TV" that I watched on TV, Tom already seemed to be a particularly unemotional human.

In any case, an intense feeling of embarrassment was clouding all his thoughts (and my sense of smell). He was ashamed of his condition as a host and even more so to talk about it with his brother.

Yes. He replied.

I still don't know if I should really believe him. Commented Jack.

To be honest, I also have a hard time believing it. You know, given the circumstances, I would understand if you didn't want me to stay. No matter how much control I have, he keeps listening to everything we say.

No, stay. I trust him.

He sat on the swing next to him.

You shouldn't. I am very grateful to him for everything he has done for us. But he is still a Yeerk. And a particularly dangerous one. He loves his hosts, but he doesn't consider us equals. To him, we are just hisPets. It will break his heart, but if necessary, he will not hesitate to take us to the slaughterhouse.

I have no choice but to trust him a little, if I want to be able to sleep. Jack emphasized.

Do you still have nightmares?

Yes. Jack replied, beginning to gently swing his feet (which, according to Tom, was a sign of discomfort in him).

And you still don't want to talk to me about it? Tom insisted.

No.

For a few minutes, the two brothers remained silent. Tom made small back-and-forth movements on the antique swing while his brother resumed his contemplation of the stars. A comfortable silence settled between them. You know the kind of silence that sometimes settles between friends who have known each other for so long that the mere presence of the other is comforting. I particularly savored the moment, but Tom eventually broke it by asking.

Do you feel like talking to me about what's bothering you? And this time, I want an answer with more than 3 syllables. I bet it has something to do with that Cassie. He finished by giving a little friendly nudge to his brother.

This time it was Jack's turn to blush.

No, nothing is happening with Cassie.

Why?

I don't know. With the war and all that. We're not really in the mood for it.

On the contrary, it's because there is a war that you should hurry to take advantage of it. And Thévenin gently and not at all insistently reminds me to give you the usual sermon about the fact that you are too young, that there is no chance of victory, that the Andalites are child-eating monsters, and blah blah blah.

Through Tom's eyes, I saw a smile appear on Jack's lips. I didn't really appreciate the way he had summarized my subtle recommendations, but I had to admit that in several months I had never been able to get anything other than a grimace from the Grouchy Smurf (but that was probably because he continued to suspect me of mistreating his brother).

So if it's not a girl, what is it? I know Marco left you. After all those years as a couple, I understand it must be a trauma, but you need to move forward.

He laughed. It was a weak and tired laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. After a moment Tom asked:

It has nothing to do with teenage stuff? Is it because of the war?

Yes.

Can you talk to me about it?

Jack thought for a few seconds.

Yes. Visser-12 is aware of the essentials anyway.

Anyway, I wouldn't have let you go until you told me everything. Come on, spill the beans. I'm sure it'll do you good. And Thévenin promises not to judge anything you say.

(Isn't that right, Thévenin?) Tom asked me telepathically.

(I didn't promise anything at all. It's totally irresponsible of him to keep helping the Andalites. If he continues, I'll be forced to report him and …)

Anyway, by the time he finishes his sermon, we will be done.

Jack smiled again.

(Okay, I promise. But you really need to do something to make him stop his nonsense. He's putting both of us in danger.)

While I was mentally speaking to Tom, Jack took a breath and began his story:

A few days ago, Marco found a forum on the Internet where people aware of the Yeerk invasion gather. Most of the registered users on the site are crackpots posting the usual conspiracy nonsense about lizard men who have been ruling the world for centuries. But some clearly understood about the invasion.

Sorry to interrupt you, but Thévenin is asking to regain control. Do you mind having to talk to him?

Is he really asking you for permission?

It's very recent. And only at home. Since he knows that the parents have noticed there is a change, here, he lets me take control. But on the condition that from time to time, I do things he likes.

What does a Yeerk like to do? Kill baby dogs? Jack asked incredulously.

If only. Thévenin has the most boring hobbies in the world. If you knew what I have to endure. Even an asthmatic grandfather is more lively than him. Tom replied humorously.

I was so accustomed to his complaints on the subject that I wasn't bothered by this largely exaggerated description. I had long resigned myself to the fact that humans were devoid of any form of good taste.

On second thought, I think I would rather not know. Okay, pass him the control. Jack replied.

It's me, Thévenin. If Visser-12 really knew about the existence of such a site, then he would have asked our IT specialists to retrieve the identity of all these people before shutting it down. If what you say is true, then I will have to inform my superiors. I can let a handful of teenagers know about the invasion and turn a blind eye to the help you provide to the Andalites, but not to a group of several hundred humans organizing to resist us.

Useless. After investigation, the Andalites discovered that the site was managed by Visser-12's twin brother.

Sorry to interrupt you again, but that too is impossible. It's been more than a year since Visser-12 condemned his brother to die of hunger.

Yes, I know. He deprived his brother of access to the Kandrona and there is no way to make a Kandrona generator with Earth technology. Let's say he found an alternative way to feed himself. How to put it. He became a cannibal. He found a way to make a substitute for the Kandrona from other Yeerks. The site is a fake resistance group that he uses to identify potential controllers. His next target is a 9-year-old child whose father is obviously a controller. He reassured him and encouraged him to talk about his doubts to his father. When they are both controllers, he will kill them to retrieve their Yeerks.

For a moment, I remained shocked without saying anything.

If Visser-12 is aware, why doesn't he stop this monster?

Because he wants to know how to make this substitute for his own use. Having to leave their host every 3 days is the only weakness of the Yeerks. Visser-12 is ready to do anything to get rid of it. As long as he hasn't found a way to extract the formula from his brother, he is forced to let him roam free.

I had nothing to say in response to that. I had long known that the upper castes were made up of psychopaths best kept at a distance, but I was still in shock. Although, thinking back, I had already had to carry out orders far worse than that. Unintentionally, I had a flash of my last mission on mercaré34521.

There is an ancient law respected by all species in the galaxy since time immemorial that forbids the creation of overly advanced AIs. The line between what is allowed and what is not is blurred. Why are the AIs in our translation chips allowed but not the seemingly simpler fighter pilot AIs?

In any case, after the Yeerk archaeologists discovered what had happened to those who had broken this rule, the empire began to respect it (even if it meant not honoring the first emperor's promise to abolish forced labor in the mines and industry). Nevertheless, while there is no longer any trace of AI creators in the galaxy, it is not uncommon to come across their creations. However, even the Andalites were disappointed upon discovering Mercaré34521.

On this war-torn planet, a motley gathering of organic species waged a desperate guerrilla war to slow down their extermination by an army of machines far more numerous than they were. And when I say motley, it's an understatement. There were hundreds of intelligent species with completely different forms. Some had tentacles, others arms, others trunk-like appendages. Some were less than a meter tall, others 10 meters. No indication that they came from the same biome. Some didn't even use the same amino acids to encode their DNA (which made it impossible for them to eat each other and thus share the same ecosystem).

But the strangest thing is that this diversity of conscious beings, never before observed, survived on a dead planet. The temperature was rarely below 70°C, the atmosphere was almost nonexistent, and liquid water was completely absent. The Andalite world-ship, having discovered this world by chance while retreating after a Yeerk offensive, immediately decided to save its organics and launched a bombardment of the robot concentrations closest to the organic resistance pockets.

Then sent shuttles to bring them weapons, food, and medicine. Once on the ground, the Andalites were extremely disconcerted that their translation AI was unable to translate the language they were using. Nevertheless, they received a warm welcome from the locals and quickly agreed to launch a large joint assault on their enemy.

In response, the screw that arrived a few days later in orbit of this world immediately came to the aid of the machine armies that had already lost control of more than half of their planet. And I do mean their planet. Indeed, very quickly, we received millions of messages from the robotic civilization imploring our help. They saturated our network, but this unprecedented volume allowed our translation AI to understand their language and history almost instantly.

For hundreds of millions of years, this uninhabitable planet was occupied by self-replicating machines (a later examination of their program suggested that they were originally abandoned mining machines). Over a slow evolution, they eventually developedA group consciousness, then individual, then a civilization ignorant of the existence of organics. Their religion claimed they were divine creations and their science struggled unsuccessfully to understand how a series of random chemical reactions had managed to create the nanites they were composed of.

For the overwhelming majority of their history, nothing happened. The robots, despite their individual consciousness, had retained the ability to connect their phototronic brains to the same network and exchange all their memories and perceptions. Thus, no lie or misunderstanding disturbed their lives. Their history was summed up as a long peace dedicated to finding ways to improve their well-being. It was two hundred years ago that they managed to create animals to serve them. Initially limited to a few bacteria capable of converting corrosive gases that damaged their circuits into useful chemicals, they soon created all sorts of animals to perform various tasks for them. But ten years ago, they created their best and last range of organic slaves. Unbeknownst to them, this range, more intelligent and versatile than anything they had created before, became conscious and rebelled against their masters.

After years of war, the organics were about to be definitively eradicated when the Andalites arrived and began bombing their cities without any regard for civilians. All their attempts to communicate had been in vain. Our arrival was a miracle for them. When Visser28 landed to negotiate the terms of our alliance, they were frightened to find that we too were organics. For them, organics were necessarily creations of the machines. If we were there, it was because we had annihilated our creators and at best aimed to enslave them. The explanations were long and difficult, especially since the Vissers are not known for their patience and subtlety.

But in the morning, it was a solid alliance proposal that was ratified by the collective intelligence of the robots and the council of 13 (the latter ratified it remotely from the emperor's ship). We would provide military assistance to the robots, in exchange they would build custom host factories for us on their planet. They refused to share the secrets of their technology (just like us) but gladly agreed to join the Yeerk war effort against the Andalites.

For almost a year, we fought on this inhospitable ground. Even my Hork-Bajir body, accustomed to the most extreme conditions, struggled to move in this suffocating atmosphere, having to constantly wear an oxygen mask. These were the most exhausting battles of my long life and the ones I had the most difficulty surviving. But the Andalites eventually also understood the language of their ally. Their translation chip, more advanced than ours, had been confused that organics used a language similar to what humans call Basic.

A crisis then shook the Andalite political world. After what he had done, their law and moral code required them to withdraw from the conflict and recognize the sovereignty of the machines on this planet. However, it had become a pivot of the front line that had resulted from the Andalites' retreat a year earlier. And he could not let them become major producers of hosts for the Yeerks. Not to mention that emotionally, they had much more empathy for these strange organics than for the machines.

The events that followed were not very clear (even for me who was there). All I could say with certainty is that history books recorded that Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul (the brother of Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill) managed the feat of convincing the two enemies to sign a peace treaty (providing for a fair sharing of the planet) and to declare neutrality in the conflict between the Yeerks and the Andalites. I know that this version was false, because at certain times when Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul was supposed to be in the robotic capital, he was piercing my lung while one of my shots left him with a scar that he carried until his death. Nevertheless, the Yeerk empire did not contest it, so it must not have been too far from the truth.

Furious at what he considered a betrayal by the robots, the officer in charge of this part of the front ordered my team to take advantage of the peace to secretly spread a virus that had been jointly developed by Yeerk and Mercaréin scientists. Seeing 90% of their population suddenly fall ill, what remained of the organics rose up in what he thought was a final desperate revolt.

But they were surprised to find the capital of the robots defenseless due to the sabotage ordered by visser28. The robots were exterminated in unspeakable barbarity, without the Andalites being able (or willing) to intervene. I never found out what happened to the organic survivors. I hope they managed to find a cure for the virus and that now they live in peace. But I will never forget the cries of horror from our former mechanical comrades with whom we had survived so many difficult moments under the blows of abomination with bodies deformed by disease. And all this was my fault.

All this because I had chosen to obey without thinking, as I had been taught to do and as I had done all my life. Just because it was the only logical thing to do to survive.

But all that was in the past. I regained my senses and replied to him:

I understand that it gets you down. I've been through similar things. But it's not your fault. Sometimes, you just have to accept that there was nothing you could do. And as long as there is life, there is hope. If you have the address, I can drive you to see that kid and warn him not to talk about it to his father.

It may already be too late. The kid may have already become a controller. And why would he believe two oddballs like us talking about an alien invasion, rather than the adult who has been reassuring him for a week? And even if you prove to him that we are right by showing him that you are a Yeerk, I doubt he will trust us more.

So we're not going to do anything? I asked at the same time as Tom.

Tomorrow the Andalites will try something. But if they first dealt with Fenestre, it's because of me. I decided it was more urgent to contact this group of resistance rather than save that kid while there was still time. I decided to let him live so he could kill other Yeerks (...). Thévenin, I'm sorry, I'm not saying this for you, but (...)

Okay, I understand. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. You talk as if you were their leader. But whether it's for the Yeerk or the Andalites, humans are just primitives. At best, they pretend to listen to your opinion.

Like you with Tom?

Tom and I, it's an exception. Honestly, do you think I am a normal yeerk? Once again, your opinion had no impact on their choices. They...made their choices, because all that matters to them is fighting the Yeerks. Collateral damage, they don't care.

For one reason or another, that did not seem to console him. I resolved to try one last approach before handing control back to Tom.

Listen, in a war, most of the time, the choice is between two bad solutions. And on top of that, you have to make the decision in 3 seconds without any way of knowing which one is worse. Or even if you really have a choice. It's inevitable, you will make bad decisions. You won't oppose horrible decisions in time, or on the contrary, you won't manage to make the right decision quickly enough. Or you choose the most logical option at the expense of the most moral one, knowing that you'll wonder until the end of your days what would have happened if you had been braver. The only ones who don't make mistakes, the only ones who don't doubt, are those who make no decision and participate in no fight. Besides, often, they are the quickest to judge you. But what's done is done. There's no point in going back over it.

The only thing you need to ask yourself is how to make better decisions in the future. Or ask yourself if this fight is really useful? Is it really worth it? When in doubt, remember why you are fighting and you will know what to do.

He looked at his brother for a long time.

Yes, he is worth it. Thank you, Thévenin. He exclaimed before hugging me.

I was so surprised by this reaction that I stiffened.

I think you didn't understand. In fact, what I meant to say(…).

(Stop. Just return his embrace.) Tom warned me.

I complied. Then, embarrassed, I gave way to Tom. Once again, I had failed to convince him to remain neutral in this war and to resign himself to becoming a host in the future. Yet, I had never felt as good as I did now.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: Do not look for this planet and the law prohibiting advanced AIs in the original books they are my inventions. I added this to the original work to explain why the Yeerks and Andalites do not use AI in their war or even in their daily lives. In the 1990s, it was not necessary to explain this, but in 2023, it is impossible for a reader or an author not to ask this question.

And then, I find the parallel between this fictional planet and ours rather amusing. Who's to say that the first bacteria weren't machines created by sThe aliensWho tells us that we are truly alive? For all we know, real life is completely different from us.

Here it is, the intellectual wanking moment of the day. You can start asking normal questions again like: 'How am I going to express in a simple review how amazing this fanfiction is?'