Jack has a secret

The next day, upon returning from the pool, my host was eagerly awaiting my return.

(So?)

Once I had finished taking control, I signaled to the Hork-Bajir to let me raise my head out of the water and took a deep breath. The most unpleasant thing about re-entering a human body is the sensation of drowning. Many Yeerks complained to the Hork-Bajir to stop forcibly holding humans' heads underwater during the entire procedure. But I had been a guard long enough to know that with involuntary humans, it was the only effective method. Nevertheless, I now understood the persistence and recurrence of the controllers' complaints on this subject. Once I had calmed down, I responded to him.

Jack is definitely not a controller.

(Whew, thank you Thévenin) replied Tom with relief.

(It is somewhat insulting that you would prefer he be drugged, but I have another piece of news that should interest you.)

"Spit it out," he asked me with concern (news about the Yeerks is rarely good for humans).

Temrash114 died last night. A small Andalite commando attacked the hospital just before the governor came for surgery. They boiled alive all the Yeerks in the infestation pool, then used their morphing technology to destroy the hospital. Upon learning this, Visser-3 was furious and had the Yeerk in charge of site security executed. We better keep a particularly low profile in the coming days.

Once he had assimilated the news, I had the pleasure of feeling joy from my host for the first time. But this pleasant feeling was quickly replaced by panic and pleas from him. I then took my gentlest approach to say to him mentally:

It will be okay, Tom, I'm not angry. I understand that you are relieved after all he did to you. And I promised you to never torture you.

To further calm him, I gave him a mental hug. He pushed me away, but being in his mind, he couldn't hide from me that he had appreciated it.

(Yes, I know) he replied.

(But you still don't believe me). It was not a question, but a statement.

While I was talking to him, I had climbed one of the many staircases that allowed access to the surface via a hidden exit. Yesterday, I had barely noticed it, but today it seemed like a real ascent.

Unlike the other feeding areas secretly set up by the Yeerks around the globe, this cavern not only housed a gigantic pool with the volume of several Olympic stadiums but also all sorts of administrative buildings, factories, arsenals, and housing for controllers of various species who lived permanently in the HQ (like my former pool guard colleagues). It was a true underground megalopolis and one of the nerve centers of the invasion. Consequently, the protection of the place was vital. It had therefore been deeply buried, and zero-gravity elevators were prohibited. The only way in and out was through endless and labyrinthine stone staircases regularly equipped with security posts.

I turned around to take a break and I was able to get an overview of our facilities. With human eyes, it was breathtaking. Under a stone sky that stretched beyond the horizon, there was a vast black lake where the light of the LEDs was reflected like stars. All around, all sorts of colorful species were bustling in a precisely choreographed dance. I really wanted to take a few minutes to rest and admire the view.

But even from here, we could hear the cries of the humans locked in the cages, and after the almost sleepless night I had just spent, I didn't have the energy to fight Tom's desire to leave this place as quickly as possible. I felt as exhausted as the time when I had to defend access to the engine room of the x-301 satellite for several days before reinforcements came to break the Andalite siege. I was probably getting older.

Since last night, Tom's feelings towards me had improved a lot. But consciously or not, he continued to fight my influence and wanted to regain control of his body. I had to face the facts, he would never become a willing host. I hadn't gained any of the advantages I hoped for, and my situation was objectively worse than when I possessed my old Hork-Bajir. Nevertheless, without being able to explain it, I was happy with this change of hosts. I had taken a sort of strange pleasure in taking care of him. Maybe Tom's fragility had activated an old instinct to protect our hosts. Or more likely, I had discovered another aspect of my deviance and had to ensure that no Yeerk discovered it.

Once in the daylight, I asked Tom where his mother's car was. He hesitated for a long time but eventually answered me. That relieved me. I was beginning to think I would have to constantly struggle against him. Maybe, after all, in some respects, Tom was a better host.

oOoOoOoOo

5 days passed and things didn't go so badly. I gradually learned to pass myself off as Tom, and the psychiatric examination that his parents imposed on us (Jack and me) revealed nothing abnormal, apart from a high level of stress in Jack, which was attributed to the onset of adolescence. Tom stopped worrying about his little brother when he resumedSuddenly a normal behavior. I noticed that indeed his behavior had nothing to do with it, except that he seemed to harbor a deep resentment towards me. This hurt Tom, but he understood that his little brother felt abandoned given the indifference tinged with hostility that Temrash114 had shown towards him. Despite Tom's protests, I tried to get closer to Jack (he was afraid I would turn him into a controller). But Jack didn't give me the slightest chance and pushed me away coldly. This once again triggered conflicting feelings from Tom.

When evening came, I took a ball and quietly left his house to go to the nearest basketball court. Once I made sure it was completely deserted, I passed the ball to Tom.

Ouch! That hurts. Exclaimed Tom, still displaying a huge smile as he regained control of his body. As long as I had control, I felt a large part of the pain emitted by his body in his place. But now he had to endure all the pain from the various injuries inflicted on him by the guards.

(It is your fault, if you did not resist so much, the Hork-Bajir guards would not harm you. Well, they would harm you less.)

Well yes, it's my fault if they hit us to make us go faster. He said with annoyance as he began trying to make baskets and dribbles against an imaginary enemy.

(Speak in your head, someone might hear you.) I said panicked. (If another human-controller passed by and discovered that I am giving you control, I would be lucky if I suffer a quick death.)

(Sorry)

(It doesn't matter. You know if you stopped fighting the guards, I could convince them to treat you better.)

I know and I'm really trying. But every time he takes me to the pool, I, I...

(I understand. It's okay, we'll go at your pace) I replied, giving them a mental hug and assessing their performance.

The second day, while we were in gym class and I met the gaze of his former teammates, Tom sadly thought back to the day when Temrash114 had decided that Tom should leave his basketball team so he could devote more time to serving the empire. At that moment, he had been completely torn having to helplessly witness the destruction of that part of his life. Apparently, before his infestation, basketball was his whole life and he was expected to play in an organization called the NBA (I didn't know what it was, but in his thoughts, I saw that it is very prestigious for humans). That gave me an idea.

When night came, without telling him anything, I took him to the nearest field and surprised him by giving him control. He then felt immense joy. But as soon as he tried to dribble, the ball slipped from his hands and he fell to the ground trying to catch it. I tried to reassure him by saying it was temporary. That it had been so long since he had control of his body, it was normal for him to need an adjustment period. But an hour later, he missed a basket he would have previously made with his eyes closed and collapsed to the ground in tears.

In just a few days, he had made a lot of progress. But he could never again be part of a professional team. Despite everything now, heHe had accepted it, he was eagerly awaiting the next time he could play. And his outings were a good way for him to recover from the two hours he had to spend in a cage amidst the screams of the other hoods, recalling the many traumas he had suffered during his previous visits to this place. I would have liked to spare him his visits, but I had to feed myself and report to my superiors. Not to mention that for me, his two hours outside his head were a blessing. Two hours without any responsibility, just having to be myself and not having to endure intrusive thoughts.

Once he was exhausted, I convinced him to let me take back control and sang him a Yeerk lullaby to make him fall asleep. I went home with my host asleep (receded in his head) convinced that that night he wouldn't inflict his nightmares on me and I could think in peace. But after a few hours, Tom was awakened by screams coming from his little brother Jack's room.

Without even thinking about it, he got up and immediately went to see what was happening. I didn't like letting him move around the house without my supervision, but for once, I let him do it.

Once in the room, he stared at his little brother who was struggling in his sleep, screaming:

No! Get out of my body!

Tom approached him and grabbed him by the shoulder to try to wake him up. Immediately, he jumped out of his bed and his face turned towards Tom. As soon as he saw him, his face filled with fear. Faced with this look, Tom instinctively stepped back and raised his hands.

Calm down, dwarf. It's just me, Tom. You are safe.

What are you doing in my room? Jack shouted with a look full of hatred towards him.

I could feel that it upset Tom. Until now, Jack had seemed cold and resentful towards Tom, but he had never given him such a look of hatred. It was as if he hated him from the depths of his being.

Uh, you were having a nightmare so I wanted to help you. Is everything okay?

Everything is fine now, so get out of my room.

(Go back to bed Tom, Grouchy Smurf will be calmer tomorrow morning). I asked him, but he ignored me.

You know, I'm here if you want to talk to me? You can tell me anything. You screamed 'get out of my body'. What did you dream about?

All of a sudden, I was interested myself. I was so focused on what Tom was doing and on being ready to take back control at any moment that I hadn't really noted what Jack was saying. I shivered at the thought of what it could mean and the implications it would have. But I made no comment and just observed Jack through Tom's eyes. Hatred had briefly given way to fear.

To nothing. You have trouble hearing. I was dreaming that I was drowning. I must have yelled get out of the harbor. Now, get out.

OK, I'm leaving. Calm down. Good night, dwarf. I'm here if you need me. Even if I'm asleep, you can wake me up.

Tom decided to lie back down on his bed, but he did not fall asleep. He was furious.

Thévenin, can you explain to me, what is this mess? Why is my brother dreaming that he is infested by a Yeerk?

I have no idea. And for all we know, he told us the truth. He might have just dreamed of ...

He interrupted me:

(Replay the memory now.)

Are you sure? It may not be a good idea.

(Do it!)

Once again, I should have been outraged that he dared to give me orders, but I complied without a word. We replayed the memory, and it was clear that Jack had lied to us. The more I replayed the memory, the clearer it was to me that my worst-case scenario had come true.

"What did you do to him? You took advantage of my sleep to hurt him, you bastard. To think I was starting to trust you," Tom reproached me.

(What? Tom, I swear I didn't do anything to him. You have to believe me. What interest would I have in doing that?)

(I don't know another of your sadistic pleasures.)

I didn't even bother to respond to that and continued:

Did you hear like me? He dreamed that something had entered his body, how could I have done that without leaving your head?

(Do you think another Yeerk has infested him?) he said, feeling dread.

(No, we already talked about it. I would know if that were the case. Not to mention that if he had a Yeerk in his head, it would have stopped him from screaming. He is free and aware of the invasion. Aware of us.)

NO! He shouted as he understood the implications.

I regained full control so he wouldn't wake his parents or his brother.

Calm down, Tom. It's not that bad. If I take care of his infestation, I can make sure he gets a gentle yeerk. One that had good relations with its previous hosts.

(No, maybe we misunderstood. Maybe he just secretly watched Alien and dreamed that a xenomorph was laying eggs in his mouth).

Tom, you know the rules as well as I do. Even if there remains a doubt, I must organize its infestation to ensure that the invasion remains secret. If it is discovered that I have...

I'm begging you, don't do that. I'll do whatever you want, but please not that.

It was useless to reason with him any further. I decided to put him to sleep by force (something we were supposed to do only rarely to avoid damaging our host) and stay alone to think. But very quickly, I was besieged by nightmares where, because of him, his family was infested and then tortured before becoming one of those empty shells we increasingly encountered in the pool line. This irritated me greatly. Could he not leave me alone, even for a moment? Since I couldn't think about it calmly anyway, I might as well postpone the decision. And he was right. Maybe we were worrying for nothing.

The rest of the week, I spent a lot of time secretly observing him. I noticed that he was extremely stressed. Far too much for a human teenager. To the point where I wondered how it was possible that he didn't fall ill. Moreover, he was regularly absent, giving reasons that turned out to be bogus upon verification. Nevertheless, he was entering adolescence. Maybe he had joined a gang. And we still hadn't ruled out the possibility that he might be using drugs. I really hoped he had just started using drugs.

However, at the end of the week, I received a strange phone call:

I have a message. Said a thick and twisted voice just after I picked up.

What? I asked.

Don't give up, Tom. Never give up.

It hung up before I could answer anything.

(Thevenin doesn't mean anything. You know, you're not very good at passing yourself off as a human) declared Tom with a pleading voice.

Whose fault is it? If you let me access your memories freely, it would be much easier.

(This is not what I mean.)

I know, Tom. I know very well what you mean.

I used the phone's return key to be sure. It rang into the void and after 7 rings, I ended up on the voicemail of Marco's father's cell phone (I had learned since the first night that he was Jack's best friend since childhood).

I could no longer ignore the problem. The more time passed, the more likely it became that Jack would try something stupid to free his brother or warn the other humans. If that happened, the whole family would be forcibly infested (and there was little chance it would be by gentle yeerks). And at best, I would be reassigned to a Hork-Bajir for incompetence (I don't dare imagine what would happen if the case was deemed serious enough for Visser-3 to personally choose my punishment). As unpleasant as it was going to be, I had made my decision. All that was left was to decide how I was going to go about it.